Thoughts on 'The Nature of Things: Relics & Time'

I've been a long time admirer of Renato Cuocolo and Roberta Bosetti's ongoing investigations into the performance experience. However, whilst I enjoyed The Diary Room and particularly Private Eye, I often feel I am never quite getting the full affect the pair may have intended. As I wrote my honours thesis on the role of the audience, I am particularly drawn to presentation, and innovative approaches to 'conversing' with the spectator. The problem is that often the 'hook' of the conventions used in IRAA's work (eg the one-on-one [or so it seemed..] experience offered in Private Eye) overshadows or possibly even distorts the content of the work. Their work is typically driven by memories, secrets - often presented in wordy, revealing 'confessions' and usually performed primarily by Bosetti. It's not always easy work. The writing is dense, poetic and full of imagery - and it is not always easy to understand Bosetti's thick Italian accent (though, admittedly, focusing intently and decoding the language is half the fun).

So it was with great curiosity that I showed up at their residence last week for 'season one' of their latest work - The Nature of Things: Relics & Time. We entered, and were left to wait in a sparse room, where a TV in the fireplace ran a video 'tour' of the house in Vercelli (i think it was). Then we were finally called and taken through the house, shown actual objects and objects similar to those in Roberta's childhood home. All the while she began relating to us her memories of the house, the kitchen, certain objects - in particular a certain table cloth. This object is the catalyst for her memories of a particular time in her life that become clearer and clearer to both her and us as the evening wears on.

On a purely academic level, it was thrilling. I loved the concept of trying to revive and transplant the ghosts of your childhood home into a foreign setting decades later to a room full of strangers. We witness Roberta, through a process of repetition and noting down details, having a 'revelation' about the past, that causes her to reassess her memories, and the memories she associates with certain objects. Near the beginning of the piece, she chats with us briefly, asking us to share memories about our early homes. In turn, with her revelation, we must question our own shared memories - are they fact, fiction, or somewhere in between?

I attended with five friends. Four of them absolutely hated this piece while the other (Vlad the Cowboy Mouth) liked it quite a lot. I admit to falling somewhere in the middle. As I said, I very much liked the ideas involved - and as I write about them here they sound even better than I remembered!, but the piece really failed to make any connection with me (and I it) in real time, in a meaningful way. Again (and I hate to say this because it seems such a petty criticism), Roberta's accent made the effort required to follow the language quite considerable. It also made her 'conversational' style and casual interaction with us seem stilted - in a way I could see the 'script' and it felt a bit like seeing the strings on a puppet. I felt that the objects or 'relics' in the house did not go far enough in realising the theme of dislocation - perhaps more objects, more details would have been useful. While IRAA's work has never intrinsically included audience 'participation' as such, they have attempted to bridge the gap created by many theatre formalities - both in their performance location and in their presentation and style. A real intimacy with the audience is often offered and achieved. I feel The Nature of Things failed in this aspect. Yes, we were invited into their home, but it felt quite clearly choreographed and scripted (as it was, of course) and the 'story' itself failed to fully engage the visitors (especially the ones I saw it with).

In the end, it was another satisfying experience - seeing fine performance makers at work, with a challenging idea and another innovative presentation. Whilst this time it felt a little hollow, it certainly won't stop me catching their next work.