When we first entered the actual performance space nobody knew what to do or where to go. Eventually, we were drawn to the distant squall of guitar and saw and the fleeting sight of a woman floating back and forth across the far-off archway. The Muse had begun the dance to the music of Time, the real star of this show.
But let's begin with the venue. I'd never been to the Arches before this but, as nighty+rosy has said, I can't imagine it being done in a more succesful space than this. It consists of a series of underground railway arches, directly beneath Glasgow Central Station. There were 3 large full length rooms stretching across the full width of the space, one at the south end of the venue and 2 at the north end, with a further 3 smaller half width box rooms arranged in between these large rooms. The rooms were arranged in parallel to each other so that when you stood at a certain spot in the first Arch you had a direct view running the full length of the space, straight through to the last Arch at the northern end.
This meant that at any given point in the performance you could be watching the action in one space then you might hear a muffled drum or a distant yelp or footstep or see a flash of light at the absolute other end of the venue. You could then wander off to investigate and discover a whole other part of the story unfolding. Oftentimes it might be just a couple of you and the performers in that space. There was no rigidly set path to follow. The action often flowed in many directions. In this sense it was extremely dreamlike in its unfolding, and the architecture of the Arches seemed perfectly designed for this. You were free to wander between the arches and you might come upon a character standing alone in a darkened corner (I bumped into the Witch at one point) or acting out a part of their character.
The subterranean aspect of the venue also obviously underscored the sense of dreamscape to the whole affair. There was no sense of natural light for 13 hours (other than when I escaped to the bar for a medicinal whisky ~ and probably my strongest recommendation would be that even when I popped out for that drink I hurried back as I didn't want to risk missing anything!)
The architecture also reflected and underscored the extremely psychological nature of the performance. Clearly Linder's a big Jung woman, and clearly I wouldn't claim to know a spit about the many Jungian references that were all over this show. But The Arches space definitely had a 'caverns of the mind' vibe to it; compartmenatlised yet parallel, with, at a certain spot, a direct line of sight from one side to the other. And all kinds of hidden dark corners. A pristine space on which to project all her Jung love.
Clearly though, for all the tangents, there were certain key set pieces that the performers had to hit, and all the 6 main actors/dancers performed to a superlative standard. The Star had a look of young Clint Eastwood about him (Linder definitely has a 'thing' for Clint!) and he really captured both the innocence of the rise and the brash annoyance of the falling star. In the first half, after being 'anointed' with gold paint by the King, he came up to each of us and showed off his markings with total wonderment. By the end he was approaching us and shaking our hands, hugging us, but in a totally vaccuous, impersonal way, telling us he loved us, and 'that's AWESOME!' He ended up incapable of conversing with anyone other than his own reflection, which he loved completely. At the very end he was a mute husk of a man, foetal-like on the floor.
The Muse must be bloody knackered! She was dancing beautifully and frantically for maybe all but 2 of the 13 hours. Red Bull does indeed give you wings. I know as much about the art of choreography as I do about the science of artificially inseminating South American long-haired goats but this woman was a WoW! As I said, she was the first character we encountered, dancing in front of the sleeping King. We stood around, or took our seats, and just watched as she glided through the arches in front of us, at times almost floating above the stone floor, in the Richard Nicoll/Linder print dresses that she wore throughout. I think if that hadn't worked at that point, for me, the whole enterprise could have been scuppered, and I might have thought this is a load of old toot. But something in that first hour, perhaps longer, established a tone and a mindset that enabled the whole 13 hour enterprise.
With each individual set-piece the actions would persist up to and beyond that point where you might feel a natural end coming. You learned to resist that natural in-built clock that you have, set by pop, tv, movies, ad breaks, etcetera. That clock that says enough and no more. But I found myself saying yes, more! Call it trance-like, call it dream-state, call it high. But it worked for 13 hours, more or less.
You, and 50 other people, might be watching, for example, Puella Aeterna and the Star shaving each other, very late in the show. This process would persist for a very VERY long time. People laughed at first, they were entertained, then after a VERY long time, they laughed nervously, then less, then awkwardly. After a while you just became fascinated by the process and the details, like the fact that they were using water from a babys bath, pointing up the infantilism of so many beauty processes. No humans, except human children, are naturally free of body hair. Why is smoothness beautiful? I also liked the fact that Puella later on displayed a growth of hair in her armpits that had been sprayed with golden glitter. Now that's a look!
So this process would continue, but at a certain point there might be another part of the story drift into another part of the cavern, such as the shaving being interrupted by the Queen's 'no voice' speech. Some of us would wander up north to see that, but some wouldn't. You were free to choose.
To return to the actors, yes, the Muse was a thing of beauty. At the outset she had a real vibrant, pure prescence, but by the close she was wandering around with a look of absolute blank eyed deadness on her face. Although I think I may very well have had a similar look after 13 hours, but, what the hell, let's call it artistry.
Puella was fantastic ~ genuinely childlike and awestruck at the beginning and then slowly transforming into a grotesque and artificial construct of beauty by the end.
My absolute favourite performer however was the Cakewalk King. She was stunning ~ like an unholy cross between Ernest Thesiger and Renée Falconetti. She could by turns be mesmerising, frightening, charismatic, pathetic, vile, and heartbreaking. And sexy as all get out too! Astonishing. The scene where the King 'crashes' was genuinely disturbing. And later on when 'he' returns on hopeless stick crutches, dragging himself, AT LENGTH, from one end of the space to the other, I was moved to tears.
I suppose I should really mention Linder herself, who was more of an active participant than I had imagined, playing the anima/animus/animal role. There's definitely some of her mate's charisma rubbed off on her cos she has a very real presence in any scene she was in, even when she was just lying still, under a cloth print, for half an hour or so. Breathing. Slowly. Also, I'll never forget the sound of her metal bracelet scraping along the stone floor. I don't know why. But she did it repeatedly as a very deliberate audio motif, which recurred later in the show. But it was just such a haunting sound echoing through the caverns. By that stage I was well away! Dreamscape. I also remember that she spent about 80% of her time wrestling, vigorously, with Puella Aeterna, mainly. She had some cracking moves. She should take it up professionally; Big-Daddy-Linder. Obviously it represented the Jungian take on the Anima/Animus struggle within Puella Aeterna's psyche.
But it still looked hot