The Three Spoons Theatre Company and Jean Cocteau are a perfect match, both esoteric, charmingly offbeat and entirely original.

It’s described as a scripted dance work, hence The Eiffel Tower Wedding Party being in the Dance Yours Socks Off Festival.  It could be described as anything really, this weird little work, and still not be nailed down.

We start with an ostrich on the loose in the Eiffel Tower after escaping the photographer’s camera, and without it, the camera is out of control, spewing out a man eating lion, the frightful yet to be born child of the couple being married that day, a bathing beauty whose mask of a smile slips now and then.  In this day in age when photographs can be manipulated with ease on home computers no less, this is partly a commentary on just that, the manipulation and ownership of images.

There are 19 in the cast, Bats is overflowing with their talent and enthusiasm.  Only two have to worry about learning lines, the phonographs (Edward Watson and Francesca Emms, both brilliant).  

The actors, well they have to convey a helter skelter of emotions all by facial expression and body movement.  Demanding stuff – this play was first performed by a Ballet Company, most of the cast are actors but they can really move.

Imagination runs riot in this play, from both the playwright and the superb cast.  Costello’s direction never lets up, making the most of her casts’ many skills and the stage. 
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Seeing The Eiffel Tower Wedding Party in action made me feel like I was running through a candy store at Disneyland. There were so many colours, so much variety. And of course, once you’ve munched on a couple of lollies the experience is so delightful that you always want more and more.

Three Spoon Theatre’s production of Cocteau’s ‘classic’ is a spectacular example of theatre that has been grabbed by the horns, wrestled to the ground and then made to purr like a car. In other words, it’s simply great.

Picking up Jean Cocteau’s very promising script, Three Spoon have infused it with an energy which is both intoxicating and invigorating. First performed in the 1920s, The Eiffel Tower Wedding Party is a staple of the French avant-garde canon. It’s easy to see why such a play would appeal to this youthful theatre company.

The show is, foremost, a lot of fun, for both the audience and performers alike. Without fully committing to nonsense, the narrative follows the wacky escapades of a party of wedding-goers at the Eiffel Tower in Paris, whose festivities are interrupted time and again by the strange and unpredictable creatures which emerge from the photographer’s camera every time he takes a picture. Lions, hunters, ostriches, children – you never quite know what’s going to appear next.

Exaggeration would be an apt description for the show, especially in terms of design. Kate Venables and Brigid Costello have stitched together a truly bounteous mixture of costumes, each remarkably thought out and detailed, which is no small feat considering the cast of 21. Stand-outs include the two phonographs who wear golden megaphones about their necks and the photographer, whose stripy top and striking red socks epitomise the 1920s Parisian stereotype.

Matching these gleefully visceral costumes were the performers themselves, who have come from a mixture of dancing and acting backgrounds. The show exploits the strengths of its cast members, and includes some beautiful dancing (most notably the ballet of the radiograms) and plenty of physical comedy. As the season goes on, there is little doubt that the fusion between the dialogue and the action will tighten up.

A good looking and fun show, this imaginative production is well worth a look. Three Spoon have already established a reputation for the strength of their wit and comedy. Here’s hoping that next time, we will see a show which explores the world we live in a little more deeply.

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With a taut gem the Three Spoon Theatre Company launch the 2008 season of Dance Your Socks Off. It is immediately apparent that this company of talent are energised, stylish and highly focussed on the task of bringing this piece of surrealist dance theatre to the stage with all the joi de vivre they can muster.

I grinned and chuckled from beginning to end – so refreshing!

Brigid Costello who has danced with the Royal New Zealand Ballet directs the piece. She brings a disciplined choreographic eye that provides secure and elegant architecture – as beautiful as the Eiffel Tower itself – for the acting and dance to fly from. Images frolic freely in the play space.

Much credit must go to the face choreography and vocal prowess of Edward Watson and Francesca Emms who narrate the whole of the work whilst the silent actors/dancers cavort their ways through absurd mime sections and totally appropriate dance sequences.

The entire cast are well rehearsed and physically alive to the various challenges that the narrators throw at them.

There is rhythm, pace, great use of space, succinct and snappy movement as the choreography sits perfectly in the bodies of the actors – real skill here. The musical choices (Yann Tiersen) too are inspired, serving to help produce a rich artistic mélange harking back to European modernism. The ghosts of Picasso, Diaghilev and Stravinsky flutter in the wings.

Jack O’Donnell as the Photographer brings an endearing – all at odd angles – physicality to his character; Ralph Howell as the Tower Manager impresses with a staunch authority; Thomas McGrath is a gangly Hunter with a wilting pistol between his thighs and also plays motley and very funny Lion; Michael Campin’s The General brings the grim realities of a war just passed (the work premiered just after WW I) with impotent force despite his erect sabre.

Kate Venables dances the bathing beauty with Moulin Rouge chic and great legs, Alex Lodge as the Child has a fascinating and entrancing physicality. Kylie Davidson as the Ostrich weaves her way elegantly and alluringly through the evening.

The Wedding Party of Georgina Titheridge, Kent Seaman, Adrianne Roberts, Ralph Upton, Michael Campin and Melissa Phillips work with gusto to create a fantastic chorus. Their two dance sequences – one a lament and one an ode to joy – are tight and well executed. It is great to see such a large cast onstage working with physical integrity and musicality.

Margaux Gin, Pia McKay and Catherine O’Sullivan as the Radiograms again evoke another era with strong performances. Benyamin Albert and Rosaleen Moxey give valuable support to the production in their roles.  

The production elements, design, lights, costumes are all great in this highly entertaining evening. An intriguing script toys with the notion of mirage and reality and the possibilities within the, then, new art of photography. 

Beneath the frothy surface there are coded references to darker issues. Cocteau inspired by the great dancer Loie Fuller and no doubt fuelled by absinthe has created a wildly imaginative play that requires dance as well as acting to carry it off.

Three Spoon Theatre delivers big time!!!
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Best known for The Human Voice, Les Enfants Terrible and Les Parents Terrible, not to mention his ballet Parade, Jean Cocteau took an early satirical swipe at the bourgeoisie with his surreal drama-dance piece The Eiffel Tower Wedding Party (1912). While it is possibly a bit too coherent to be labelled Dadaist it could be seen as an early example of that emerging genre.

Three Spoon Theatre’s cast of 19, including 5 dancers, directed by Brigit Costello, have a ball giving life to the wacky scenario. The story – if that’s the right word for what plays out – is narrated or commentated by two black-clad Phonograph voices (Edward Watson and Francesca Emms) who also provide the dialogue, as and when required. The gold insides of their megaphone collars, which bathe their faces in a painted porcelain glow, are inspired.

It seems the Eiffel Tower, which used to be the Queen of Paris, is now no more than a Telegraph Girl, transmitting Radiograms. It’s also a venue for hire (Manager, Ralph Howell), and in this case it’s hosting a Wedding Party (Georgina Titheridge, Kent Seaman, Adrianne Roberts, Ralph Upton, Michael Campin, Melissa Phillips, Benyamin Albert): a well delineated pack of poseurs nicely decked out in colourful costumes (Kate Venables & Brigid Costello) and make-up masks (Bex Middleton & Beck Woodhouse).

But various ‘little birdies’ and other creatures keep escaping from the camera of the ET’s photographer (Jack O’Donnell), not least an Ostrich (Kylie Davidson), its hunter (Thomas McGrath, who later morphs into a Lion) and a Bathing Beauty (Kate Venables on 2 & 4/19; Rosemary Martin on 5 & 6/10). It’s a clever metaphysical proposition.

Existential questions are raised via The General (Campin), a wedding guest who has been deluded by mirages in Africa so assumes anything illogical is therefore a mirage. A Cyclist (Rosaleen Moxey) may, therefore, not really be up the tower – but the Collector of Paintings (also Moxey) is, although whether the frozen-posed Wedding Party, created by no less an artist than God, is a work worth buying is a matter of conjecture.

A demanding little brat of a Child (Alex Lodge) with something of a nappy fixation catalyses quite a lot of the action and one of the dance interludes involves three Radiograms (Margaux Chin, Pia McKay, Catherine O’Sullivan).

The ensemble works well together to bring lively form and a degree of substance to Cocteau’s abstractions, although there is some unevenness of physical expressiveness, with some over-emoting while others are too poker-faced. They are a bit cursory in an endowment exercise involving The General’s severed foot and an anatomically correct model heart might as well be a forgotten potato for all the value it’s given.

As satirical commentary on the bourgeoisie The Eiffel Tower Wedding Party is quaint and historical rather than classically pertinent. As a demonstration of early 20th century surrealism it is interesting and amusing. As an opportunity for keen young thespians and dancers to perform their socks off with flair it mostly works a treat.

What more can I say? It’s either to your taste or it’s not.

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