Also this issue:

Play Time
CP’s theater critics take a look at a few current productions.
-David Anthony Fox and Toby Zinman

Two Worlds Colliding
Fine installation links two diverse exhibits at DaVinci Art Alliance.
-Robin Rice

Asians Misbehavin'
-Juliet Fletcher

Company B Program
-Deni Kasrel

Ronald K. Brown/Evidence
-Deni Kasrel

Flamenco OlŽ!
-Janet Anderson

Some Like It Hot
-Steve Cohen

March 27-April 2, 2003

theater

Marcel Marceau

by Janet Anderson

Marcel Marceau, the little white-faced clown Bip, celebrated his 80th birthday with us at The Kimmel Center last weekend. In a razzle-dazzle world, he sprinkled some gentle magic onto a totally enthralled audience. Marceau’s talent is an eye for the telling gesture, the slight adjustment of body stance to indicate age and sex, and an incredibly mobile face which even when covered in white can signal an alphabet of emotions one right after the other.

The first half of the program was a selection from Marceau's Pantomimes of Style, a catalog of the classic works of a movement observer. The second half was devoted to the adventures of Bip, Marceau's sad-eyed alter ego, the little clown whose adventures take him from taming lions to a dating service. Marceau's production is the essence of simplicity: just the master himself. No music, no novelties, no multimedia interactive devices. He travels with a lovely stage device of having a mime couple (costumed in sumptuous quasi-Renaissance garb for the Style half, and clowns for the Bip pieces) announce each section with appropriate banners. Marceau's characters each told a little story, and it was interesting that the work of a pantomime artist created such a hush in the audience. Everyone leaned forward, straining to listen to his moves, to hear his incredibly flexible hands, and to see if that rubber mouth of his was going up in a smile or down in a frown.

Marceau began the evening with "The Creation of the World," in which the Maker mixed and matched invisible ingredients until his long beautiful hands rolled the invisible realm into a big ball and shot it off into space. Of course, we were launched into Marceau's world too. The last piece was called "The Mask Maker," and here Marceau's character flipped imaginary masks on and off his face going in an instant from laughter to tears. At the end the mask maker could not remove the laughing mask. Try as he might, Bip could not pound or peel the big smile off his face. In the long performing career of this gentle genius, there may have been times when Marceau felt trapped behind his masks. I hope not. His audience had a hard time saying goodbye, applauding and standing as Bip waved back with that big smile still in place. The little clown is putting his greasepaint away for good after this tour. Au revoir Bip. Merci mille fois.