The Tale of the Green Bird is the most daring play that ever issued from my inkwell," declared Carlo Gozzi, the 18th-century Italian fabulist. "Daring" is a relative term, of course. But when the dizzyingly original Gozzi claims something as his most daring work, that really says something.
And yet chances are that audiences don't know Gozzi except at an operatic remove: His best-known plays, Turandot and The Love of Three Oranges, provided the basis for musical masterworks by Puccini and Prokofiev. Students of Italian drama may also remember Gozzi as the loser in a once-famous literary battle, in which his rival Goldoni was crowned victor by a public which ultimately preferred the latter's realistic, bourgeois comedy of manners. It is largely because drama took a right turn at the Goldoni-Gozzi intersection--heading toward psychological realism and away from pure commedia and fantasy--that Gozzi has languished as one of the theatre's under-appreciated geniuses.
But such remarkable talent couldn't be neglected entirely, and it may well be that the world wasn't ready for Gozzi until this century. Some adventurous modern directors--Meyerhold, Reinhardt, Strehler, Serban--have risen to the challenge of Gozzi's bold theatricality. To this list of interpreters may now be added Theatre de la Jeune Lune, whose production of The Green Bird is scheduled to run through Jan. 29 at the company's home base in Minneapolis.
Jeune Lune's ebullient staging of this 1765 fairy-tale play has been produced in collaboration with New Haven's Yale Repertory Theatre. After a preliminary stint in Minneapolis last November. The Green Bird transferred for a three-week run at Yale during December, where Yale Drama School students performed in minor roles and design student Henry Dunn assisted company members Vincent Gracieux and Steven Epp in creating the show's inventive scenography.
And it is inventive design above all that The Green Bird demands. Consider this abbreviated list of events which must be portrayed onstage: The royal twins Renzo and Barbarina throw a magic stone, which instantly turns into a mansion. A statue named Calmon, who was a man before his cynical philosophy ossified him, speaks sage advice to the youths. Another statue, the once-vain Pompea, reverts to flesh-and-blood thanks to Renzo's successful quest for the Waters that Dance and the Apples that Sing.
Then there is the good queen Ninetta who lies imprisoned beneath the palace's kitchen drains, while the title character--actually, a prince bewitched by an ogre--flies to her with food and drink to sustain her life. Finally, at the play's happy ending, the wicked queen-mother is turned into a turtle, and her poet-accomplice into a jackass. With a storyline like this, it's little wonder if directors and designers alike tremble at the name of Gozzi.
Blend of dramatic styles
But physical theatricality is Jeune Lune's raison d'etre, and according to dramaturg/performer Robert Rosen, it was Gozzi's blend of dramatic styles--commedia with orientalism with fairy tale--that especially piqued their interest: "The worlds that he meshes are fantastic and a challenge to stage. We discussed in rehearsal the idea that these characters defend not only their different journeys, but their styles--you have this world meeting that world. Both have to stick to their rules, and yet you have to create a common ground for them to work in."
Although director Gracieux admits that the show was at times "pure hell" to mount, The Green Bird has also elicited from the 15 year-old company some exuberant solutions to these hellish staging challenges.
How, for instance, is one to portray a talking statue? The designers passed on the more obvious ideas of using a statue with a voiceover, or a plaster-encrusted actor a la the Commendatore in Don Giovanni. Instead, Calmon adopts three amusingly varied incarnations. At his first appearance, we …