The Chairs – review

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“I’m not like most people – I have ideals!” proclaims Old Man in Eugene Ionesco’s classic absurdist play The Chairs. Delightful and charmingly whimsical, this is the tale of an amusingly quirky elderly couple who are, in simple terms, expecting a guest or two. With an introduction by Her Excellency Manuela Breazu, the performance was presented by the Romanian Cultural Institute as part of the Romanian Cultural Days in Dublin. Directed by Felix Alexa, the Bulandra Theatre Company of Bucharest’s adaptation starred the brilliant and renowned Romanian actors Oana Pellea as Old Woman and Razvan Vasilescu as Old Man.

While she is a compassionate and consoling wife, constantly singing the praises of her husband’s natural “genius”, Old Woman constantly despairs over her husband not possessing enough ambition, not making something of himself. Or, not yet he hasn’t. It seems Old Man is now, after all these years, ready — he is ready and waiting to reveal to the whole world his brilliant, mind-boggling, world-changing secret… tonight! You can’t blame him for taking all these years to do it, one doesn’t simply give away one’s profound epiphanies; this takes preparation – and preparation means finding an audience, an orator, and chairs… lots and lots of chairs. The audience is, of course, invisible — but that doesn’t make them any less esteemed or, more importantly, any less eager to hear Old Man’s discovery. Among the guests are an elegant lady, a robust if a bit inappropriate Colonel, and even the Emperor himself. “His Majesty just winked at me…The Lord is on our side,” exclaims Old Woman before the pair celebrate this royal entrance by triumphantly tossing and swirling confetti all about them — creating a dizzy and dazzling and carnival-like atmosphere.

The set, designed by Diana Ruxandra Ion, is a curiosity in and of itself — consisting of a single room with writing covering the walls, several doors marked with handprints through which the guests arrive, and only the ever-varying number of chairs as props. Ada Milea’s music is equally interesting, as it mirrors and escalates perfectly the feel of each scene.

Through brilliant writing and performance alike, The Chairs manages to be both touching and hilarious, with even the deepest moments seasoned with the cheekiest wit. But there is something more, a certain characteristic that is hard to put into words; the play somehow evokes a time past (or future?) — one feels as if you’re not watching a play about another era, but that they’re actually in another era while they’re watching it. Perhaps it’s Old Woman’s Eva Gabor-esque voice, or the lovely scene where the pair act out their memories of waltzing through grand old Paris in their younger years. This is not to say that The Chairs is sappy or sentimental — it’s witty and sharp, almost cinematic in feel.

Pellea and Vasilescu are superb actors, good old-fashioned performers, with every clever little “cluck” or eyebrow-raise perfectly in tune with their characters and with each other. They pull you into a curious, compelling little world, if only for 90 minutes, and you’re smiling and enchanted all the while — like an engrossed child during story-time. The pinnacle of the story is a hysterical whirl of a scene, where you can feel the minds of our two hosts spinning with delight and dizzy commotion as they scramble to find enough chairs for their audience. Then, as the Orator (set apart from the guests as he’s a real, visible person played by Radu Pocovnicu) arrives, Old Man and Old Woman realize their lives have reached, finally, their fullest potential; life can never be better – with a massive and prestigious audience, the emperor even, waiting in their chairs in silent and eager anticipation, to hear the Orator announce the long awaited secret – than it is now. This is it, Darling.

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