The Tale of the Fisherman and the Fish - Arlekin Players Theatre

Photo Credit: Igor Klimov Photography

The Tale of the Fisherman and the Fish – Arlekin Players Theatre

Review by James Wilkinson

The Tale of the Fisherman and the Fish is presented by Arklekin Players Theatre. Written by Alexander Pushkin. Directed by Evgeny Ibragimov. Puppet, Set and Costume Design: Ksenya Litvak. Lighting Designer: Stephen Petrilli. Composer: Nikolay Yakimov.

Arlekin Players production of The Tale of the Fisherman and the Fish is a gorgeous and affecting piece of work. You don’t so much watch it as lay back and flow into it, giving yourself over to its ethereal mood. Its rich world of color, light and sound surrounds you and you’re content to let the pieces of yourself fall away so that there’s no barrier between yourself and the work on stage. It’s a small production, in the sense that it lasts a little less than an hour and the folk/fairy tale that it adopts for a narrative isn’t especially complex, but that “smallness” gives it a laser focus. You begin to notice the tiniest of details in what’s happening, building your intimacy with the work. This is the kind of craftsmanship that’s easy to admire when you step back and take a look at the whole, but you’re not distracted by it in the moment, you’re too busy feeling your way through it.

You might already know the story of The Fisherman and the Fish. In fact, I’m willing to wager that you were already told some version of it back when you were a child, so I’m going to refrain from summarizing the plot other than to give what ends up being one of the few speaking lines in the show: There once was a fisherman who lived with his wife by the ocean, (okay, I’ll go one step further and say that eventually the fisherman will meet a magical, wish-granting fish). You don’t need any more than this, because much of the magic of the production is in how the viewing triggers tiny flickers of memory, somewhere in the back of your head. Once you begin to realize that you know the story, the shock of recognition activates you. It takes you back to that moment as a child when you first heard the tale.

Here, the story is told via puppetry by Ksenya Litvak (who also designed the set and costumes, all breathtaking to look at). There are no living human actors, (unless you count company member Darya Denisova who acts as a kind of narrator). A team of puppeteers surround the tiny figures on the stage in front of us, moving every limb. Except for a moment at the top of show, when a symphony of voices repeats the show’s first line, the performance is wordless. It’s amazing, then, just how much story director Evgeny Ibragimov is able to get across using only the tiniest of gestures performed by puppets. It’s really quite an achievement. One of the most oddly touching moments, (if you’re paying attention and catch it), has a tiny sheep gently rubbing its head against another in a loving gesture. That you could be moved by something so small is really remarkable and an early sign that the show is working on you.

But we’re not asked to spend the evening focusing all of our attention on one spot. Ibragimov has a wonderful way of switching theatrical modes to keep us engaged. After watching a small moment between the fisherman and his wife, the lights will shift and our attention blows out to another spot in the performance space. We’re suddenly aware of the entire stage, where we’re given another element of the story before switching back to a small moment between the characters. That ebb and flow of storytelling sweeps us up with it. There’s a similar switch in the play’s opening, when tiny flashes from cigarette lighters come at us from all sides in the darkness. Our eyes dart around the space in a mad rush, trying to take it all in before it cuts out and the play settles into a more meditative pacing. It’s this kind of contrast that keeps us on our toes.

This is the kind of production that you’re wrapped in, practically swaddled. The music provided by composer Nikolay Yakimov invites you in and provides a beautiful thrumming energy to the piece. The lighting design by Stephen Petrilli is positively stunning, washing the space in vibrant blues and purples at certain moments and creating eerie moments of foreboding at others. There’s a strange sense of logic at work here, the kind that many might leap to identifying as dream logic. I don’t think that’s quite it. It’s more that we move through The Tale of the Fisherman and the Fish going emotion to emotion. At a certain point in the evening, I found that I had lost the narrative threads. I wasn’t quite sure what was happening for the characters and found that I didn’t care. I was content to move through the images and let them invoke whatever feelings they brought up.

For the performance I saw, the entire front row of the audience was filled with young children who sat entranced by everything they were seeing. Their wonder was infectious, (I’m tempted to call out Arlekin Players for planting them, but I suppose I have no proof that they did. Though, even if they did, who cares? When the critics come, you pull out the big guns). There’s a certain stage effect in the show which recreates the crashing waves of the ocean, (I’ll leave you to find out what it is for yourself). With each roll of the wave sweeping high above us, most of the kids jumped out of their seats, reaching out and trying to grab ahold of the effect. I’m a bit too old, (and at this point, too well-trained), to do the same. But I understand the impulse. When Arlekin Players’ production is going on, you want to leap up and join it. Seems a damn shame that you can’t.

The Tale of the Fisherman and the Fish is presented by Arlekin Players Theatre February 14-April 12, 2020.

For tickets and more information, visit their website: www.arlekinplayers.com

Want to be notified when new reviews are posted? Consider signing up for our Email List HERE