Adding new layers to a classic avant garde work can be a tricky affair, even one as hyper-relevant as Rhinoceros.
Italian director Omar Elerian was widely lauded for his interpretation of Eugene Ionesco’s The Chairs in 2022 and he returns to the Almeida with another work from the same playwright. Rhinoceros is on the face of it a warning against conformity with overtones of anti-fascism. Everyman Bérenger (??p?´ Di`ri´su`) and his friend Jean (Joshua McGuire) witness a curious event: a rhinoceros charging through the town square followed soon after by another. Some deny that the two animals were there at all, others argue over exactly what happened. As more and more sightings emerge, it soon becomes apparent that the townfolk themselves are turning into rhinoceroses.
This being anti-theatre, many of the usual artifices are thrown to the wind: stage directions are read aloud, live sound effects are created by cast members off to one side and, with nothing much except a bare white stage, we are asked to imagine settings. For this new translation, Elerian has added in a new character (the “Provocateur”, played by Paul Hunter) who is there to speak directly to us as some kind of MC-cum-narrator. When not archly describing the action, he’s getting us to wave our hands.
The many playful and whimsical elements are a double-edged sword. Elerian has emphasised the humour in this version with plenty of physical japery and funny asides projected onto the back wall but that distracts and undercuts the deeper aspects of this work. The lack of a formal structure can feel like we are floundering sometimes, looking for some kind of meaning to connect the bizarre and sometimes chaotic action. McGuire’s transformation into a rhino - or at least, someone in a skintight silver outfit - is undecided over whether it wants to be a pivotal and profound moment or just something else for us to laugh at.
Casual theatregoers looking for something different can find that here. Different, though, doesn’t mean good. The blankness of the set design allows us to see what we want to see (something befitting Ionesco’s core themes) but this can be frustrating in the more abstract scenes. At the interval, kazoos are randomly handed out to audience members and a choir of buzzing is used to announce the herd of rhinoceroses as they appear. The kazoo army also seem to missed the main tenet here: that an army of individual annoyances can collectively become something more than annoyances especially to those with hearing issues like hyperacusis (described by musician Stephin Merritt as “like being stabbed with a knife when there is a lot of shrill sound going on”).
Di`ri´su` does well in his limited role, going from apologetic to scared and defiant in large bounds. In a memorable move, Elerian ends his play by having Di`ri´su` shouting his resistance loudly at the audience while the rest of the cast take their bows. There’s enough thrown up for us to ponder but anti-theatre should be provocative and it doesn’t have to go out of its way to be anti-entertainment.
Rhinoceros continues at the Almeida until 26 April
Photo credit: Marc Brenner
