Todd In Venice

Thomas Mann’s famous novella is Der Tod in Venedig so Todd In Venice is, I guess, a sort of pun, but don’t expect any further resemblance, connection, reference, critique or deconstruction of Mann’s book – beyond perhaps that the eponymous ‘Todd’ has the surname ‘Ash’, his lover Michael has the surname ‘Bark’ and Mann’s hero is ‘von Aschenbach’.  Sadly, this is about the level of sophistication of the enterprise.  There is also scant resemblance between the playwright Sofia Chapman’s rather pretentious description of the play in the program and what we see on stage.  Maybe the description was written before the play?  And something went awry?  For instance: ‘Ominous gondolas represent the lethal potential of undeclared attraction on a sea of emotion’?

What we see on stage has the quality of something that was made up as it went along and included anything that popped into Ms Chapman’s – and possibly her cast’s – head.  Scenes don’t end; they just stop – with a blackout.  The numerous bad puns and pop culture references are the most amusing aspect.  There is a great deal of symbolism and metaphor to do with water and drowning, but only when I read the writer/director’s notes on the ‘Origins of the Work’ did I grasp the intention of that and of such things as the island of Murano being represented by a chain of water bottles. 

Yes, there is the thread of Agnes Kermode (Kate Hosking) ‘transitioning’ – i.e. changing gender – but beyond some dialogue references and a sequence where the Doge of Venice – oh, yes – offers to perform the necessary surgery, there is no sign of this agenda from Ms Hosking, beyond a brittle nervousness.  Todd himself is described as ‘rampaging through Venice and getting up to mischief’ – he does neither – but Alex Beyer plays him in such a pale, languid, abstracted manner that the character is almost ghostly.  Joseph Lai, as Michael Bark, brings some vitality and cheek to the piece, but he’s hampered by the directionless text.  Terry Cole, dressed as a sinister, masked Pierrot, wanders about and provides the show’s theme via mandolin – until he becomes the manservant of the Doge (James Adler), sequestered in his palace, apparently, since 1797.  The insertion of the Doge into the mix seems possibly the most arbitrary of this grab bag of ‘ideas’, although Mr Adler plays him with a blokey confidence.

Too bad, but Todd In Venice is a silly conceptual dog’s breakfast and its cast is left, each in their own way, floundering.

Michael Brindley