RIAF Redux

The ninth annual Ringling International Arts Festival (RIAF), which ran Oct. 18-21 at The Ringling, did not disappoint. That’s hard to do, after it had raised expectations so high, but it somehow pulled it off. While you’re impatiently waiting for the 2018 festival, here are three capsule reviews of some of this year’s highlights:

'White Rabbit Red Rabbit' • Oct. 19-21

This harebrained play is the brainchild of Nassim Soleimanpour, a contemporary Iranian playwright. Brendan Ragan recently performed his one-man play at RIAF. The experience was riveting—and hard to talk about. Red or white, Soleimanpour’s “Rabbit” is a different animal.

His play comes with strings attached. Contractually stipulated strings, in fact. A new and different actor must be cast for each performance. This individual can’t read, rehearse, or have any advance knowledge of the play. Each performer opens up an envelope, pulls out the script, and does a cold reading. Every time.

Soleimanpour’s rabbits thrive in blissful ignorance, evidently. Critics don’t have to sign contracts. But they shouldn’t spoil the show, so I won’t.

So, kudos to Ragan for a fine performance under harsh conditions. Aside from that, what can I say without giving the game away?

Just this …

The play is self-conscious of its own artifice—and draws the audience into the creation of its illusion (or consensual reality). I’d call it “postmodern,” but that’s a bloodless word. Here, that word is bloody wrong.

Strip away Soleimanpour’s postmodern hijinks. What’s left is an experiment, a parable and an ethical dilemma.

These three narratives all comment on each other. Considered separately, their meaning is opaque. When the narratives are superimposed, a refracted meaning emerges …

That implied meaning strikes me as a strangled cry at the viciousness of groupthink, extraordinary popular delusions and the madness of crowds; the Kitty Genovese passivity engendered by detached audiences watching bloody scenes and hearing screams while eating popcorn; the cold agreement of the villagers in Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery” as they hefted their stones at a randomly chosen victim; or the lie implied in “consensual reality” itself.

That’s the best I can say without letting the rabbits out of the bag.

'Portraits in Motion' • Volker Gerling • Oct. 19 and 20

True artists are obsessive. They find one tiny corner of the human experience—and work it like crazy.

Volker Gerling is one of these OCD artists. His medium is the photographic flipbook. He tramps around Germany with a high-speed mechanical camera and looks for interesting people who aren’t camera shy. When he finds one (or more) he aims the camera and shoots. The camera fires away for 12 seconds, taking 36 exposures per second.

Gerling binds the resulting photographic prints together in little books. When flipped, the subjects seem to move—a low-tech form of animation resembling the crank-operated kinetoscopes of the 19th century.

In his RIAF show, he lovingly flips through his books, and projects the results on a screen behind the stage. He accompanies this with a low-key narration. Little stories …

About his shy ex-girlfriend.

Or the chubby kid who wasn’t shy.

Or the happy threesome.

Or the woman who pulled off her top in a bar.

Or the Iranian engineer with the shattered soul.

Gerling believes that the spaces between his flickering images make all the difference. He thinks that walking reveals a different world from the one you see from a train or car. He likes to talk to strangers. Amazingly, some interesting strangers talk back to him and let him photograph the results.

The intimate flipbooks that capture Gerling’s close encounters are oddly hypnotic. Each one is a tiny corner of humanity. Each one is a universe all its own.

'WANTED' • eVenti Verticale • Oct. 18 and 19

Picture a large, metallic scaffold with an enormous rear-projection screen behind it. Two Italian acrobats makes it their playground: Luca and Andrea Piallini, a band of brothers who call themselves “eVenti Verticale.” They climb the scaffold, push off into space, and proceed to blow your mind.

Their athleticism is astonishing. Their illusionistic motion is pure visual poetry. If the brothers wanted to create an awesome experience, those two elements are all they need ... but somebody decided to add a story to the mix.

“Gravity defying” is the obvious description. But it’s inaccurate. The truth is, you can’t defy gravity. But, with enough athleticism, training, practice, and dedication, talented performers can create the illusion. The Piallini brothers certainly do. They flip, pivot, arc, lock arms, push away, then join together. Yes, they’re way up in the air. But they’re visibly suspended by wires and harnesses. They’re not really defying gravity. It just looks like it.

To pull off this stunt, I imagine the brothers’ upper body strength must be right up there with the Incredible Hulk. I can’t begin to imagine the training that turned mere strength into such incredible grace.

As the Piallinis fly through the air with the greatest of ease, the screen behind them projects Fabio Lanza’s animated scenes of cityscapes, jails, bank vaults, and a bit of Pac-Man. Against this ever-changing backdrop, they mess with your frame of reference. The brothers defy your sense of up and down. They pretend to climb, run or fall; the animated background cooperates. It’s like watching a living cartoon.

Their athleticism is astonishing. Their illusionistic motion is pure visual poetry. If the brothers wanted to create an awesome experience, those two elements are all they need.

But somebody decided to add a story to the mix.

And that story doesn’t quite work. The narrative isn’t always clear—and sometimes distracts from their amazing acrobatics.

The brothers escape from a jail. A cop chases a crook. The cop turns into a crook? Now they’re in a videogame. Now they’re in outer space. What’s going on?

Subject headers might help. Some basic logic would, too. As in cause-and-effect. Are these two wanted men on the run? Then stick to that premise, even when the chase enters the realm of the surreal.

I found myself ignoring the story and concentrating on the jaw-dropping display of the Piallinis’ circus art. The spectacle is a fun experience, don’t get me wrong.

But get the story straight. Or get rid of it.