Theatre in Dubai: Are you remarkable?
You were remarkable, Gillian! And we mean it in the dictionary sense: adjective, worthy of attention, striking.
We meet people by chance—some are "remarkable," and others are not. The "remarkable" walk through open doors while the "unremarkable" linger in shadows. As a young boy, I was surrounded by ‘remarkable’ adults doing all adult-ish (read: boring) things. I was ‘looked after’ — never hungry (unless Father punished me and sent me to bed without supper). I was never without clothes or proper shelter (Mother didn’t care much, but the caretakers did their job). Father hosted parties for other "remarkable" people, for he needed them (even when he was the Director, which confused me). Mother didn’t care much about anything until other high-society people cared (this impacted her priorities, which confused me). I often felt unseen. I longed for freedom, sneaking away to the pantomimes. There, I discovered a clown in white baggy pants who made everyone laugh, but I could see his sadness. I called him Pierrot. Pierrot, too, went on to become "remarkable," and despite my efforts, he left the pantomimes for the Opera. Parents thought I was too much trouble, so I was sent to boarding. On return, I was "remarkable," walking into places I once had to sneak into. Over the years, I met many Pierrots—people playing roles they couldn’t escape. The last time I saw Pierrot retired, I asked him his real name. He told me, and I was left more confused than ever.
Now, read this entire story again. Hopefully, I’ve narrated it as briefly as possible and not revealed much, but just enough to draw you to the theatres the next time the brilliant Gillian Rhodes brings her theatrical production, Searching for Pierrot, to you. And now imagine only one person enacting all the roles — young boy, father, mother, Pierrot, and more, which we shall not reveal! While we may be incapable of playing multiple characters in one go, here’s our attempt to explain why the show needs to be watched.
Gillian, an American performer and storyteller, graduated with a dance major from Columbia University after training in classical ballet from age five. Since 2012, she has been living and working in Asia, from choreographing live television in Cambodia and dancing for a contemporary company in South Korea to performing in music videos, teaching at universities, choreographing and acting for film and television, and modeling in Pakistan. In addition to her movement-based work, which reflects her diverse experiences and draws on dance, physical theatre, and mime, Gillian is an accomplished and professional writer.
Dressed as a little boy in a plain brown shirt with suspenders holding a brown pair of pants, Gillan single-handedly brings each of the above (and more) characters alive on the stage. Over 70 minutes, she compels you to stay engaged, curious, and entertained. Some in the audience complained that mult-rolling (when an actor plays multiple roles onstage) was not for them; I could have easily watched her for 70 more minutes.
The script is original, which is refreshing, especially in the era of ChatGPT and AI; also, it leaves one to draw one’s interpretations, having seen no previous renditions— be it as a book, theatre, or film. What lessons you take from this are yours to decipher and stay with.
A few movements that were more impressive than the other included but were not limited to the boy taking the trains to the theatre, him making his way through the crowds, or even the simplest, him being pulled by the ear or him holding the hand of an adult.
Gillian’s ability to shift between characters is nothing short of mesmerizing. With effortless transitions in mannerisms, voice, and body language—whether using props, real or imagined, like a hat for the father or a cigar for the Lady in Red—she leaves you in awe.
You can make an impact with fewer props (a couple of chairs, a table, and a couch) and play with light (the smartness to depict the Lady in Red with a mere red spotlight was genius) — the minimalism of the show was fantastic.
You don’t need an orchestra (always) to make music a significant accomplice to the story or the other way around; the show featured live accompaniment by Dubai-based musician Amoon Dass, and the timing and the rhythm were perfect.
While the play is family-friendly, and I recommend taking children to watch it to master the performance, the little ones will require hand-holding to gather the script's depth.
As for you, ultimately, you’d be left with your search: to understand the difference between remarkable and unremarkable, to look into the mirror and be surprised with what you see — a blue fin-scaled monster or a tragic clown in white baggie pants. Is there then a Pierrot in each of us? Or are we all in search of Pierrot?
The show was performed at a performing arts space in Alserkal Avenue, Dubai, in French and English; we attended the evening show in English.
Authored by Purva Grover
Purva Grover is an author, journalist, and creative entrepreneur. She is the founder-editor of storiesoverart.com, a sanctuary for all who find solace, inspiration, and purpose in art. In a world that often overlooks the significance of art, she stands firm in her belief that it is essential, more so than anything else.
Comments