All I had heard about the show was that there was ‘lots of crying’, something made clear by the show’s flyer with its images of the two frowning in sorrow. The setting for this deluge of sentiment is a simple arrangement of two desks, each with a MacBook connected to its own projection screen, allowing the performers to show us images from Photo Booth, the contents of a folder called ‘Stuff That Makes Me Cry’ including YouTube videos and movie clips, and a live-stream Lego performance.
Weeping abounded, fake and real. It’s never fun to start a sentence with this distinction because, you know, that stuff’s over right? Simulacra now rule. It’s a hard one to avoid though when talking about an hour of non-stop crying. While the Baudrillards among us may well report back on a world of surfaces and the disappearance of depth, most theatre punters, I hazard a guess, have a depth or truth criterion. We insist on authenticity of emotion or at least adroit mimicry.
One could argue that our conception of authenticity itself is informed by simulation after simulation on screen and stage but I’m going to say outright, we can tell if you’re faking it. De Bruyne and Verbeke romp around this fake versus real distinction and upset our cherished ability to discern between alligator tears and bona fide salty residue. Their beginning sequence of Photo Booth images displays a range of good and shoddy crying. Their film-karaoke vignettes of ‘acting along’ to a movie scene (Titanic, Boyz n tha Hood) were excellent, whereas their attempt at an emotional Home and Away script was hilarious (and ingenious it turns out; Irene is vastly improved by a Belgian accent).
This oscillation between aping and the real deal is set within a structure of pastiche, which challenges the truth claim that crying carries with it. Weeping in performance is mostly the domain of a linear plot’s climax or dénouement, not the default state of an entire piece, as per the fragmented moments that comprise XXXO. For a society suffering from compassion fatigue, this production provides some comprehensive, professional blubbering. It also offers some amusing how-to techniques: Verbeke rubs Vaseline under her eyes, sprays water in De Bruyne’s face and they both chop onion for effect. The form of pastiche does not disallow some very moving performances: De Bruyne’s Medea monologue is hair-raising and Verbeke’s mini Lego puppetry in which a child is killed is naïve and beautiful. The piece is a wonderful relief from the preciousness of standard emoting.
Rating: 4 stars out of 5
Performed by Charlotte De Bruyne & Nathalie Verbeke
Supported by Ontroerend Goed & Richard Jordan productions
Adelaide College of the Arts – Xspace
Until March 18
Adelaide Fringe
February 24 – March 18
www.adelaidefringe.com.au
