In recent times I was
present at a strange ritual in one of the gloomy spots of Great Yarmouth – a
ritual concerning death and the grey reaches beyond. I arrived on the edge of a
cemetery, where other wayfarers were gathering, and after an interval of
exchanging pleasantries, a deathly creaking sound reached our ears and we were
joined by a strange apparition – a tall masked man, pushing a decrepit old
wheelbarrow. He beckoned us to follow, and led our group down the abandoned
path to the very heart of the graveyard. It seemed we were not the first to
tread this lonely path (I say lonely, there were a good few of us, and they
seemed pleasant company); a man dressed in a slightly old fashioned suit – the
sort of suit one might wear at their own funeral – sat there in the middle of
the clearing. He greeted us cheerfully, welcomingly, expectantly, while the
masked barrow-pusher arranged us in a circle around him.
Of the terrifying visage of ‘Karen’, I shall say little,
only that the cloaked monstrosity who appeared in our midst began to circle the
suited man – Stephen – as he attempted to play a game of Duck Duck Goose with
us. It was clear from the outset that we were not going to be able to get away
from the spot-light. For the following three quarters of an hour we saw the
strange characters in the world between life and death, and got to grips with
the extraordinary job of somebody who has to guide lost spirits from one world
to the next – wherever that might be.
The play Psychopompoi,
written and performed by Michael-Israel Jarvis and a handful of talented
actors, is intriguing, immersive as can be, and is nothing less than
staggeringly fun. We, the audience, are not merely observing the proceedings.
We are part of them. From the unorthodox method of attending the play, through Karen’s
unnerving treatment of the alarmed audience members, which involved a free
piece of raw onion, to the interactions between the four main characters, I was
with it all the way. There are moments of grim realisation, there are some of
profound beauty, and here and there are even a few unexpected laughs in the
spirit of the darkest comedy.
Though somewhat confusing at first – with Karen’s cryptic
answers and peculiar imagery – we are never overwhelmed by such things. The
characters are all who they seem to be and, as the play progresses, the few odd
ingredients slot into place to make up a clear and vivid picture by the end.
There are questions raised by the play, but the answers are liquid enough to be
attainable by anybody, even me.
So what we have in Psychopompoi
is something fun as well as poignant; something expected as well as
surprising. It is deeply entertaining to be in an audience which is played with
by the performers – for it is not just a momentary tagged-on gimmick as I’ve
seen used in other plays, but a central part of the entire performance. I loved
it, and can only recommend you give it a go if you’re lucky enough to have the
opportunity.
Suitable for anybody who is going to die some day.
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