In a black box conversion of The Basement studio, creator and performer Alice Canton sits and waits on a pile of dirt and bark. The elevated and shallow seating block doesn’t seem to manage The Basement studio 65-seat capacity, leaving audience members sitting on the floor, which I imagine results in false sightlines to which Canton’s mask-work plays.

In such an intimate space, it’s disappointing that, while not necessarily carved with the intention to perform in this specific space, we lose Canton’s eyes behind the mask. In addition to the lack of vocals in the production, this prevents us from connecting with the humanity (ironically) inherent in animals and, more specifically, her hybrid character: Hanoman (White Monkey King) and Topeng Tua (Old Man). [More]

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Atmospheric jungle sounds, emanating softly into the cool, dimly lit stairwell and landing, set the mood as we enter the Basement Studio to see our titular primate hunched peacefully, sleeping upon a large circular bed of dirt and bark. 

Creator /performer Alice Canton created her distinctive ‘old man of the forest’ orangutan mask as part of an exploration both of her own Malaysian heritage and the socio-political and corporate forces that continue to threaten the welfare and ecology of Southeast Asia and the world in general. 

By no means a super-realistic depiction, particularly given her white shirt and black pants, the curiosity and contemplation evoked by the mask and her superb expressive characterisation, effectively transport us into its world. 

Canton explains in her programme how this piece is in itself a small but important detail of her much grander original vision of a huge full-scale production, designed to address and help solve all the issues relating to colonisation and global industry.  It’s hard to imagine what she describes as not overwhelming to the point of detracting from the message and its impact, given how poignant the experience of seeing one lone ape quietly, cautiously engage with it’s changing environment. 

This prevailing minimalism belies just how much thought must have gone into each detail, even the decision to have the audience sitting up and/or slouching on cushions, evincing a subtle degree of identification with our venerable subject.  The painstaking process of an activity so innocuous as eating a mandarin has the entire full house on tenterhooks with supportive anticipation, and empathy with the victorious extended yawn that punctuates every morsel consumed. 

The minimal narrative, refined with the assistance of dramaturges Holly Chappell and Leon Wadham, comprises three acts in which the passive protagonist is displaced from its natural habitat and ferried to a zoo or circus where, he’s ultimately exploited for human entertainment.  The implication is only partly of undue suffering in captivity; it also examines the disadvantaging state of dependency forced upon the indentured beast. 

Visually bathed in Brad Gledhill’s discerning lights, Canton’s remarkable wordless character study is wholly reliant on the outstanding evocative sound design of Thomas Press.  One obvious advantage to the captivating non-verbal format, and the simplicity of the production overall, is that this will play virtually anywhere in the world.  And indeed it ought to, since the clear unspoken message is one everyone should ‘hear’. 

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