Einstein on the beach was first performed at the Avignon Festival in 1976. The performance received instant acclaim by critics who applauded the way in which Wilson had challenged the conventions of opera. Wilson eschewed traditional narrative and created the performance through a series of drawings that he made in his sketchbook. He then handed these sketches to the composer (Philip Glass), who composed an original score based upon the images in the book.
In his interview, published in the programme for the performance at the Barbican Theatre, Glass notes, ‘essentially, Einstein is a non-narrative, artificial theatre in which the function of narrative has shifted completely from telling a story to experiencing a story.’ Key to the success of this experiential style is the ability to fuse the creative elements within a performance: acting, movement, dance, lighting, set, props and music. Wilson’s considerable ability to fuse these artistic disciplines turned him into one of the most important theatre directors of the twentieth century.
Einstein on the Beach starts with one of many ‘knee plays’, thus called because the scenes punctuate the performance, connecting scenes disparately related together. During the scene Characters 1 and 2 are sat at desks, lit in a bright white box at the front of the stage. Character 1 engages in hand gestures that seemingly mimic the movements of a typewriter, whilst the hands of character 2 are held inches from the table, unmoving. Philip Glass’s now iconic score is blended seamlessly with dialogue (written by Christopher Knowles) whose primary function is the creation of dynamic rhythm.
Dialogue, music and movement move in subtly changing circles in the performance to create scenes that are both repetitious and evolving. ‘There’s no repetition,’ Glass argues, ‘something is always going on…Repetition actually figures in the combination of acts that are constantly moving, constantly changing, even when they appear to be static…It’s a way of working where a thematic idea is stated and then constantly changed so that it is constantly morphing, constantly becoming something else.’
At first I found myself getting frustrated with the pace at which the performance was moving. I wanted something to ‘happen’. However, as Glass correctly observes, Einstein on the Beach is a performance ‘that teaches you how to hear it.’ Thus, my initial impatience was quickly quelled and I became entranced.
I know that it’s wrong. I know that the performance is meant to be ‘experienced’, not analysed, but in moments of trance I could not stop my mind from picking out scattered details of the performance and constructing from these fragments meaning. Thus, for me, the repeated appearance of a shell, which is held up and listened to by a performer repeatedly throughout the opera, reflects a pre-occupation with nature and the natural. This contrasts with the mechanical, and at times robotic movements of the performers, bright lights, images of machinery, and most notably a backdrop describing the effects of a nuclear explosion. Finally, Glass’s comments about repetition and change are reflected in the repeated appearance of compasses and clocks. Reformed and re-ordered in the melting pot of my mind I constructed, out of the chaotic harmony of these audio-visual images, a message about the dangers of scientific and industrial progression, a warning that even the smallest steps that man takes can lead humanity closer to self-annihilation. Thus, at the end of the performance, the Bus Driver apologises for the fact that the performance, thus far, has reflected ‘troubled minds’ and ‘ruffled spirits’ and leaves the audience with a somewhat cheesy story about a couple in love, because the night is drawing to a close and ‘the night should be a time of peace and tranquillity.’
In the last couple of months I have watched performances by Theatre de Complicite and DV8- theatre companies of great renown. Despite the reputations of these theatrical giants, neither has escaped the sharp judgement of my critical eye, (for good reason). I would therefore like to apologise in advance, but this would not be a rose review if this article did not contain a few well-placed words of criticism. With this in mind I believe that it is pertinent to state the following. It is undoubtedly true that, when it first showed in the 1970s the style of the performance was revolutionary, (with its deconstructive form, bright lights and synthesisers). However, having lived through the 1980s, bright lights and synthesisers no longer wow me. They no longer function as an innovative image of the future. Similarly, although narrative driven performance is still the norm, theatre audiences are now familiar with postmodern deconstructive performances. Thus, for me, much of the drama of the original performance has been lost. In an interview with Wilson, which was used to advertise the Barbican’s performance of Einstein on the Beach, Wilson acknowledged that most of his work ‘should never be revived.’ However, he claimed, ‘Einstein is a bit different.’ The standing ovation at the end of the performance proved that Wilson was right in this assertion. However, this is not to say that the performance has not lost a little of its magic over the years.
8/10
(All quotes are taken from the programme to the performance, published by the Barbican Theatre)
Beautifully written. Especially the last sentence - alas!
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