Yesterday, I went with A & her Nonna (i.e. my Mum) to see a traditional Sicilian puppet play – Le Avventure Di Orlando at the Italian Forum in Leichhardt. I loved it! Above is a little memento.
I spent a lot of high school borrowing & re-borrowing books about puppets and marionettes, particularly this one. (The other books I read and re-read were about Berlin, Germany and the Holocaust). Yep, odd. Anyway, I already knew all about the types of puppets used, without ever really expecting to see them. They are simple puppets, heavy wood with a metal rod for the head and another metal rod for the sword arm. What was fascinating was the skill of the puppeteers – each character had his own walk, even though there is no string for the legs. The Saracens moved shiftily, one stroked his beard. The Christians strode bravely. I loved the syringe of red paint for blood, the different choreography for each battle and the slaying of the dragon.
My Dad spent his life studying old stories – mediaeval, and also Australian Aboriginal. I’ve done the opposite, tried to always be 20th century, now 21st ;D When he told me the stories he was thinking about, I used to tell him they didn’t translate well to the modern world. Oh, except one about an old noble, a warrior, who had outlived all his family, all his friends and allies and was forced to spend his last days in the court of an enemy… that could be a film.
Anyway, the puppeteers made this version of Le Avventure Di Orlando relevant to today: about the futility of war. Orlando doesn’t blow his horn to summon reinforcements when he realises he and the other knights have been lured into a trap. Instead, they fight, and, yes, win. But then Orlando stands on the battlefield, not enjoying the victory, instead realising all his brothers, his friends are dead. He blows his horn as he should have earlier, but, poetically, blows so hard he bursts blood vessels. As he lies dying, either (as the announcer explained in English) he slays the dragon of his own errors or (as the puppeteers played it) an angel visits him. Whichever, it’s a good story. I wish my Dad were still here so we could talk about it …
On a lighter note, A loved crawling the length of Leichhardt library and back – I think it’s the longest building she’s gone crawling in. She crawls on all fours now, although sometimes she looks like she’s trying to stand up
