I had to give the opening drinks party a miss because of the last train back to Utrecht. After the performance of *Deaf Republic*, which kicked off the Noorderzon festival at the Groninger Schouwburg, everyone was ready for a break. I certainly was. In that piece, the Dead Center theatre company ruthlessly dispels the notion that art can offer a safe haven in times of need.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And this despite the fact that the Groningen Summer Festival itself has been given an exceptionally promising revamp. The Noorderplantsoen, where the festival takes place, is now being utilised almost in its entirety for the first time. This gives the organisers scope to divide the park, with its characteristic water features, into different \u2018atmospheres\u2019. At its heart is Kraken, a floating stage in the central pond, which can now be enjoyed from all the banks, and which is fully committed to a more urban<\/em> programme.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It feels open, just as everything feels very open at the moment. The number of food trucks and outdoor seating areas seems to have increased, which will have a positive effect on turnover in these difficult times, now that festivals such as Noorderzon and Boulevard have to dig deep into their pockets to ensure everything is done in accordance with the rules. Later this week, we\u2019ll take another look to see how the fresh, tidy atmosphere of the opening day has held up after the first weekend.<\/p>\n\n\n\n So that weekend began with that play, in which quite a few people meet rather violent ends. It starts gruesomely with a bullet through the head of a small child who failed to obey the order to leave a puppet show. Because the child was deaf. In response, the inhabitants of the fictional town decide collectively to turn a deaf ear to the army. This results in a series of murders depicted in a very graphic manner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n As well as offering a very realistic portrayal of things which, sadly, we are also confronted with on a daily basis through the media, the play is also a kind of ode to the poetic power of sign language. A language that was banned in the 19th century, and has only been officially recognised in the Netherlands since 2020. Thanks to Covid. This language, which enables communication through sight but is not always understood by hearing people, also took on a somewhat subversive quality as a result of that centuries-long ban.<\/p>\n\n\n\n *Deaf Republic*, performed by a cast comprising both deaf and hearing actors, is a visually striking production in which puppetry plays a major role. Here, however, the puppets offer no sense of security. Even the most oppressive regimes are still willing to tolerate insults from puppets, because they are only puppets. The army in this production, always played by one and the same trigger-happy<\/em> A soldier puts dolls through the shredder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And that really does hurt. It hurts to watch it, because we see puppets in the theatre as living beings, just as some people have given their robot vacuum cleaners a name. At one point it all became too much for me; despite all the special theatrical effects, I still felt as though I was watching a slasher film<\/em> I was watching it. Not my favourite genre.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The result, however, is that for the full two hours on the train journey back, you find yourself pondering whether theatre should offer distraction in times of threat, or whether it is also allowed to confront you with that very threat. Are you turning a blind eye if you would have preferred to experience a fine piece of psychological drama, or a sharp comedy?<\/p>\n\n\n\n That question must have provided plenty of talking points during the opening drinks reception in the Noorderplantsoen. And it must have boosted sales of spirits.<\/p>\n\n\n\nTidy<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
Sign language<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
Pain<\/h2>\n\n\n\n