The National Theatre hosts the 25th anniversary revival of the Citalité company’s philosophical play, exploring the attachments among unrelated people through the corners of memory. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show, to let us know if its experimental narrative ends up going out of its mind.
What gives meaning to our existence other than connections that we make along the way? It’s often said that we are the writers of our fate and the protagonists of our own stories. But actually, it’s the people that accompany us, the ones that both precede and come after us, that carve and hone the branches that ultimately constitute the tree of our lives. Because that’s, in fact, what our paths are all about. Links. Bonds. Memories.
This summer, the National Theatre goes back to its 90s repertoire vault with the revival of Mnemonic, a play exploring the ties bridging the journeys of unrelated people, and taking us down a road of chance and consequence driven by the unpredictable power of the mind. Conceived and directed by Simon McBurney, the piece serves as a philosophical statement about the relativity of things – using an allegorical subplot, dealing with the discovery and further examination of a prehistoric mummy, to raise a stronger question beyond the mystery surrounding his background: is the meaning of our paths defined by what reality brings to us or by the recollections we and others make out of it?
A gripping premise delivered with subtlety and intentional ambiguity, the script succeeds tremendously at triggering both thought and emotion in the viewer. The vagueness of its purpose is as confusing as it’s beguiling – we’re not sure as for where we’re heading off to through that narrative, but we can’t help but yearning to know more. And by the end, you will probably think that things feel more unresolved than they were in the beginning. But that’s the key of its enticement, and the core element of the truth it so accurately portrays. Too many times, what we do and where go appears to be incomprehensible – and if there’s any order or significance to it, it is our duty to construct it.
Relying on a minimalist, black-box-style design (credit to Michael Levine), the montage is an equal contributor (ocassional, to a further extent than the script) to the show’s appeal. Crafted with superb instinct for theatrical effectiveness, it’s uncomplicated yet extremely surprising resources concoct a bewildering deck of visuals, enhancing the dynamic tone of the account through its dark, film d’auteur approach – in some way, working as an extension of the cerebral hubbub the play sets its roots on.
At the same time, the company makes the final addition to the montage’s success – all in all, executing genuinely superb renditions enhancing the verity and psychological force of the material. Among them, Laurenz Laufenberg and Tim McMullan make two of the most praiseworthy appearances, carrying out their interpretations with effortless deftness and captivating flair. However, the greatest acclaim goes, undoubtedly, to Khalid Abdalla in the lead role – creating an extremely likable, believable character basing his strength on the brittleness of his soul.
We always go to the theatre to be entertained. Many times, to feel. And now and then, also to think. Regardless of how turbulent it’s account may look, Mnemonic manages to cross all checkpoints with astounding dexterity. It’s a trip down the unfinished lanes of destiny, and a wise of observation on how our courses always run through a stream of incompletion. It may not result in the fondest memory for everyone that comes see it, but whatever the case, it’s guaranteed to strike a reaction that will last for longer than many other works. It’s not for all, but that’s what supports its uniqueness. And though not every viewer will go crazy about it, it sure will make all of them go through some mental state.
All pictures credit to Johan Persson.
Mnemonic plays at the National Theatre until 10 August. Tickets are available on the following link.