ARTS REVIEW: MARK DANIELEWSKI'S 'THE FIFTY YEAR SWORD'

REDCAT Presents Original Illustrated Ghost Story on Halloween Night

By: Melissa Berry

November 1, 2010

(October 31, 2010 in Los Angeles, California) Always expect the unexpected and the unique at REDCAT, and you’ll never be disappointed, especially on Halloween when even the audience is in costume–I think. Some of us thought we knew what we were going to see, but others actually knew what they were going to “witness.”  Mark Danielewski, the critically acclaimed author of House of Leaves, was presenting a collaborative theatrical presentation of his limited edition, illustrated ghost story, The Fifty Year Sword.  Collaborative theatrical presentation doesn’t begin to describe what this Halloween performance combined.

Halloween has become a non-denominational event in the Fall, which began as a celebration of the growing season among the ancient Celts, and also their New Year celebration. Now it’s the lead in to the Christian holy days of All Saints Day (All Hallow’s Day) November 1^st, followed by All Souls’ Day (Day of the Dead), November 2^nd.  This evening was the perfect preparation for these two following days. This performance was all about purgatory, possible redemption, ghouls, ghosts and goblins, and really scary stuff. This is where the lost art of storytelling took hold and made the evening a one-of-a-kind theatrical event, presenting lost souls using lost arts.

The description of the story, The Fifty Year Sword, in the program is deceptively uncomplicated, as far as scary stories go:  “The chills begin on a late October evening at an East Texas ranch, when Chintana, a seamstress recovering from a painful divorce, encounters a shadowy caped Story Teller recounting for five orphans a tale of revenge, a harrowing quest, and a terrible sword which everyone soon realizes waits before them, concealed in a long black box, honed for new crime.”   Aw, I’ve heard scarier...that was until this night.

Danielewski’s story is made remarkably chilling and unforgettably unique by the staging of the evening.  The REDCAT lends itself to anything anyone wants to do.  This evening, there was the entire proscenium filled with a huge back-lit scrim.  The stage had black risers of staggered heights positioned off to one side and five readers’ podiums for the five actors/choral readers.  Strewn across the stage in an obviously planned pattern were a pathway of Autumn leaves leading enticingly to...somewhere, not unlike the breadcrumbs in Hansel and Gretel, yet it could be anticipated that this was going to have a bit more adult type of fear than the brothers Grimm could create with their seemingly harmless fairy tales.

Danielewski himself was the conductor of this piece with an actual conducting baton attending all the required nuances. 

The reading was enacted by the lost art of shadow painting and executed by shadow casters, which, in itself, sounds intriguingly ominous. The shadows created behind the scrim by the shadow casters presented images for us probably not much different than the shadows our forebears created to enhance stories by the firelight on cave walls. The shadow casters were able to take a life-sized image and, in keeping with the tone of the story, expand or enlarge it with Martha Graham-like movements to create the proper mood.

Incorporating the use of these lost arts in the telling of this ghost story, we were invited to participate by using our imagination in its purest form, rather than just being given a visual.  This required allowing the “willing suspension of disbelief,” the stretching of our thinking skills, and a willingness to be involved.  Rather than being given what to react to, we were involved first in the action and then our reaction.

Gratefully returned to ourselves and reality, we were gently invited to participate in a Q&A creators Mark A. Danielewski (Conductor), Christine Marie (Shadow Designer/Choreographer), and John Zalewski (Sound Design).  The initial questions were timid and uncertain, but eventually became very involved with the creation of the piece and its various components.  My favorite question asked was very simple: “But what happened to them at the end?”  The response was like going to the therapist: “Well, what do you think happened to them at the end?”  What happened at the end was like the ending to “The Lady or the Tiger”–you decide. When this Halloween audience left, it was in slightly less high spirits that when it came.  Speaking of “spirits,” did I remember to say “Boo”?  Trust me, after seeing this, you’ll be on personal “boo alert” all year long.