Features: Magazine | Literary Review | Life | Metro Plus | Open Page | Education Plus | Book Review | Business | SciTech | Friday Review | Young World | Property Plus | Quest | Folio |

CITIZEN REVIEWS

Eloquent silence

Mum was the word, disbelief was suspended, the three Unities were swept under the carpet, you became childlike (not childish) as you went back to Punch and Judy shows or our own shadow plays and puppets. That would have been your mindset had you watched “Ristorante Immortale”. The antics of the characters, their whims and pranks made up the comedy part of it, though at times there was a long uncomfortable silence which was a prelude to the next set of frivolity. Memorable were the juggling of plates, the dance with their cleaning cloths, the musical chairs and spurts of friskiness that translated into a jig. Although no words were used, emotion was conveyed effectively through their masks and one could empathise with each character as his fortunes waxed and waned. However, repetitive actions at intervals made it a bit heavy.

Geetha Iyengar

Hungry for more

“Ristorante Immortale” clearly was one of the most wholesome plays of this year’s Theatre Fest. You came out satisfied, yet craving for more at the same time. The play certainly lived up to its hype that it “has been presented more than 150 times.” What struck me most was the fact that we could connect to it, beyond the language barrier. Words weren’t needed to communicate effectively, the mime was just perfect.

The actors were brilliant and the beautifully crafted masks served their purpose such that they seemed to come alive according to the situation. It was a surreal experience watching the five characters with exaggerated masks aptly portraying emotions that could easily be a metaphor for life — a little bit of humour, some sadness and lots of chaos. The plot is set in a restaurant with characters, of whom, ironically, not even one is a customer! The power struggle among waiters – one timid, another bossy, and yet another funny — was something we could immediately identify with. It’s this down-to-earth effect that made the play stand out. Aazhi Aadhan

Sea of emotions

The play by Familie Flöz was at two levels, the ascent and descent of a flight of stairs, literally and figuratively. Comedians often hide great emotions, but the masked comedians unmasked a sea of human emotions; they unravelled the philosophy of life, its ‘ups and downs’, yet retaining the element of hope at the start of each new day. At the metaphysical level, they uncovered the mysteries of life, man’s faith in the supernatural, in that superior being when we find no answers ourselves.

The simple sets with ‘doors opening and closing’ and actors assuming different characters as they walked through them was symbolic of humans donning different masks for different people! Little nuances, mannerisms and body language of each character added that ‘distinct personal flavour’ to the play.

The end of the play was akin to a camera rewound - same scenes, same dreams. This speechless comedy left the audience asking for more!

Hema Iyer Ramani

Wonderful nuances

What a wonderfully nuanced and multi-layered play! One can enjoy it as a straightforward or a philosophical comedy. This beautiful mask show, performed brilliantly by the Berlin-based Familie Flöz, is deceptively simple. Pathos and comedy combine to yield bizarre results, reflecting the dreams and aspirations of the people associated with the restaurant. So skilled was the acting that I was often deceived into believing that the facial expressions were constantly changing despite the masks.

Nithya Krishnaswamy

Evoked sympathy

The play turned out to be an absolute charmer. The music of the accordion still echoes in my mind. Masks meant a static expression and mime made words alien, yet each character conveyed a million emotions. The strength of the cast lay in its success in evoking empathy in the audience. The world converged so easily in the restaurant.

Aathira R

Captivating experience

A night at the “Ristorante Immortale” was a strange yet captivating experience. The Ristorante, as one saw it, was a timeless place, inhabited by five eccentric characters. A restaurant where no one seemed to enter, or leave. It started off as deliciously frivolous fun with what seemed like Looney-Toonesque sketches, replete with characters armed with pots and pans chasing one another through long corridors of interconnected doors. One found the quirky characters, such as the Narcissistic waiter and the neurotic manager, joyously endearing. The audience was witness to the hopes, dreams and the frivolities of each of the five characters. Like the manager, who longed for a real diner, only to find himself unprepared when one did arrive (did one really though?). Each of these characters aspired for something, whether within or outside the microcosm of the Ristorante, only to learn that in the end, be it success or in failure, they had just themselves.

Nikhil Joseph

Not a dull moment

“Ristorante Immortale” is the house that Sartre and Marx built. Of course, Familie Flöz are strictly Marxists of the Groucho persuasion, not Karl. The lovable dope even resembles Brother Harpo.

A generally drab premise of existential dread, consisting of endlessly repetitive cycles, non-existent patrons and mysterious doppelgangers is rendered with playful wit and a sense of buoyancy — a refreshing change of pace. From accordion wielding cooks to uber-narcissistic waiters, the German Collective created compelling, fleshed out characters, despite the lack of dialogue. In the 90-odd minutes, though not a single word is spoken, the play was far from quiet and there was rarely a dull moment. It drew its influences from performance art, mimicry and sight gags and rewarded the attentive viewer.

Nikhil Ramesh

An existential comedy

Sometimes we forget that theatre can be performed without words. Familie Flöz’s “Ristorante Immortale” reminded us of just that. Using elements from diverse theatrical traditions such as commedia dellarte, the pantomime, and the masque, director Michael Vogel created a physical comedy of exquisite performances. Each character’s story was told with amazing detailing. And words were not needed at all! A shake of the shoulder, a nod of the head spoke volumes. Was it my imagination or did I really see a myriad expressions in those masks?

Exaggeration was endemic to the performance but for once it was not out of place. Underlying such comedy were ‘immortale’ themes such as alienation, lost love and youth, yearning for artistic recognition, lost dreams and hopes, the relationship between generations, and the eternal wait for something meaningful to happen. A true existential comedy, if there is such a genre!

Moushumi Ghosh

Theatre at its best

“Ristorante Immortale” proved that theatre is a very visual medium and with nary a word spoken, the troupe can fully communicate with the audience. It started off on a cheerful note with one of the characters appearing on stage with the apparent intention of performing a solo music concert. As we laughed and relaxed in our seats, the larger spectacle of “Ristorante Immortale” unfolded. An unsuccessful restaurant with a self important manager, an old hag for a cook, three waiters with distinct personalities, the restaurant’s pre-opening rituals kept the audience laughing. As the evening went on, however, each of the character’s dreams was examined and suddenly from mere actors they became a microcosm of a larger world. The laughs became knowing smiles as the characters reached out to the hopes hidden in the minds of the audience.

It was theatre at its most challenging — communicating without talking.

Anita Bharathidasan

Poetry in motion

A review of “Ristoranté Immortalé” was easy to write, simply because there was absolutely no judgment or evaluation – there were no ‘opinions’ about it, only a unanimous collective memory. We remember that at a play billed as ‘silent’, there was almost no silence in the hall that night - either because the actors were creating their own perfectly coordinated sound effects and music, or because we were all howling with laughter or whistling in appreciation. The only promise made was pure entertainment, and that promise was fulfilled spectacularly. That night we understood the real meaning of the words ‘poetry in motion’, because although the entire play was performed using masks that had fixed expressions (and very small apertures for the eyes), we could see and understand stillness and action, joy and sorrow, anger and mirth, enmity and friendship, and everything in between. It richly deserved the standing ovation that it got.

Sudhir Jonathan

Printer friendly page  
Send this article to Friends by E-Mail