MANCHESTER INTERNATIONAL FESTIVAL BLOG
Day 2 (evening): Dr. Dee
Well that was completely mental.
I think one moment summarised Damon Albarn’s latest wildly ambitious work, and it came after an hour and a half of overwhelming, relentless musical and visual invention. As Dr. John Dee re-entered the stage - miraculously without musical backing - he proceeded to explain his position in the narrative in a rare few minutes of dialogue from the ‘protagonist’ (though Albarn’s post-modern narrational role threw the meaningful existence of a traditional protagonist into question). He vented about how his contemporaries and foes thought ill of his trans-world communication (late in life he engrossed himself in attempts to talk to ghosts and spirits, having established himself as a mathematical genius/alchemist/supreme navigator, thus landing himself in some ‘trouble’) and unorthodox approaches to understanding the world, while defending his cause and duty to the country he lived in. This was a sweet sweet clarification of the central struggle in the opera - between the doctor and his foes over acceptable methods through which to understand the world and attain knowledge.
And it was followed by John Dee’s young lover (?) being set up about by a scryer on a rotating bed, as pillows were ritualistically ripped, feathers filled the air, and a piercing orchestral crescendo swamped the scene, with the aid of no dialogue.
It was moments like this, among many others, that led me to conclude that this show was more thematic and centred on analogies, rather than it adopting a more linear narrative (though I’m sure there was a loose one somewhere). Or maybe I was just slow; or maybe the narrative development was crystalised evocatively in the lyrics (which were intensely hard to decipher continuously/though the many vocal lines I captured displayed the ‘commentator’ role Damon seemed to be filling rather than those of a narrator); or perhaps the plot was consciously dislocated, veiled and then put in metaphor. Either way, the dominant forces in this production were inarguably the music and the visuals, and boy were they dominant.
From start to finish, a relentless score was juggled between the orchestra (situated below the stage) and Damon Albarn’s imperial bandstand (situated above the stage on a ‘floating’ platform). This duality certainly opened up creative doors and allowed for a fluctuating, multi-genre soundtrack. At times Albarn’s band would delve into militant african drumming layered in ominous keys; at others folk-pop; at others ethereal kora-led fluttering (these African instruments/players presumably referencing the empire Dee helped envisage for Britain); at others music supposedly influenced by the time the play was set in. In between any given gap in the playing of the above, insert an orchestra and you can see how this could become slightly overwhelming, and get in the way of there being any room to breath in the play, or any room for a narrative to be explained.
However, it was hard to get annoyed, seeing as how visually involving it all was. As I briefly mentioned, the stage was set in three parts: a floating, higher stage, on the edge of which Damon perched in a somewhat godlike pose, the main stage on which the play unfolded, and a lower chamber in which the orchestra set to work. As intriguing as this set was, the way in which they made use of minimal props and projections was pretty *awesome*: white, large-scale paper concertinas shuffled about the stage to be morphed into objects and walls, while also being utilized in the conjuring scenes to mask and create magical illusions (very convincingly, might I add). Indeed, in was the scenes in which spells and rituals were performed that were the most hold-your-breath dramatic. Onto the stage, moreover, were projected ritual symbols, runes and all manner of medieval mystical imagery. One memorable scene in which the two were combined involved a white concertina wall being pulled back and forward across the stage by a black-beaked, Jamie Hewlett-esque character, each time unveiling Dee in a new setting, while onto the concertina was projected a digital illustration of the Dee-involving situation shattering into light fragments. Pretty.
I mentioned analogies/suggestive imagery earlier, and nothing seemed to represent this approach more than the innocent young, England-flag-balloon-clutching blonde girl that wandered round the stage at random intervals. Was she symbolic of a humble, innocent, pre-Imperial Britain? Was she lost from a different production? Was she a character in the play? (Though I dare say they didn’t have balloons back in the 16th Century.) The end also represented the height of theatric, pretentious symbolism, when Albarn climbed atop the cabin in which him and his band had been caged, and announced that we should ‘ne’er forget John, DEE!’ (or something to that effect) before staring unfocused into the space in front of his face and toppling off the back of the stage.
As incoherent, overwhelming, relentless, and void of an understandable narrative as this was, musically it displayed the ambition and scope of 21st century Damon Albarn, and Dr. Dee was undoubtedly a visual feast. However, having heard so much about the undocumented acheivements and significance of John Dee in the build up to this production (to fill in a largely unknowing public on the play’s subject), and having taken away the themes of the Spanish Armada, Empire, Magic, Science, Navigation, Maths, etc., it would have been nice to have come away with a picture of how they all pieced together, or were pieced together by Dr. John Dee. Having seen the theatrical documentation of his life, I still feel as if really I know nothing of the man.
