The Triumph of Man: A Comedy in Two Acts

The episodic action of the play occurs mostly on one level with the audience on two sides of the black box space (also on the same level as the performers), and facing each other across the long, processional stage area.  At one end a raised dais supports a throne of sorts, a painted recliner-rocker with a squeaky action that provides a few gently comedic moments as the sound punctuates the dialogue.  There is also a liberal scattering of satin cushions and (empty) gilt frames on the wall, the cushions possessing a special aesthetic utility as explained in the narrative.  The long performance area is used to excellent effect for General Ferdinand’s striding and posturing and for other beautifully choreographed physical scenes.

In addition to his usual megalomaniac activities, Ferdinand fancies himself a writer and has two ‘foreign’ actors abducted then coerced to perform in his first play.  The thinly veiled propaganda and his truly awful writing is a treatise that basically proclaims ‘how good is General Ferdinand’.  As well as witnessing the two actors working on the General’s play, various sub plots are revealed gradually so that the audience meets some student radicals and learns more about Ferdinand’s beleaguered wife Ivana, and Artemon, one of his ministers. 

Arran Beattie and Chris Best display a wonderful camaraderie as the two imprisoned actors and appear in other small roles as well.  These artists are immensely watchable and perform with confidence and palpable connection.  Poppy Mee is memorable both as the complex character of Artemon and as reluctant student Bec.  Mee dominates the stage with a beautifully modulated and richly toned voice alongside her convincingly commanding physical carriage, but accesses a more vulnerable persona as needed. 

Ellen Graham is a powerful actor giving voice to the tormented Axelle, a student protesting the regime and whose uncle Karl has been ‘disappeared’.  Graham also supremely presents a different nature as one of the ‘faceless’ agents of the regime - a little reminiscent of Orwell’s thought police, or possibly Mr Smith from The Matrix.  Playing two disparate personas, Grace Boyle does tend to get rather shouty as Erasmus, the famed actor beloved by the regime.  Yes, Erasmus is a zealot and a declamatory jester type but there are other ways to convey this.  The shrill volume at times muddled the dialogue so that words and meaning were lost although the pronounced physicality was appropriate.  As Ivana, Boyle excelled, giving us a window into the vulnerability a dictator’s spouse might experience. 

As General Ferdinand, Yoz Mensch made the madness work.  Their role could have been trite and irritating, but Mensch navigated the character’s largesse, feigned innocence and dark psychopathy with just the right balance.  They also managed the wordiness of the role with utter conviction and understanding.  Mensch also gave life to palace worker Uncle Karl in an astonishing wig and beard.