Book Review Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime
T he Curious Incident of the Canis familiaris in the Night-Fourth dimension is a bestselling novel that tells the story of Christopher Boone, a 15-twelvemonth-old boy who, subsequently the vicious killing of his neighbor's canis familiaris, embarks on a investigation à la his hero Sherlock Holmes.
When it was first published in 2003, the book was promoted as a glimpse into Asperger's syndrome. Author Mark Haddon later disavowed the connection, possibly because so many people with Asperger's objected to the portrayal of Christopher Boone.
Asperger's isn't mentioned in the novel itself: Christopher says he has "some behavioural difficulties". But his graphic symbol adheres to some mutual ideas about neuratypical people that are espoused in movies such equally Pelting Homo: he has unusual mental abilities (he can instantly count a herd of cows exterior a railroad train window, and has a precocious mathematical ability) and he'due south unsettlingly devoid of empathy for other people.
The National Theatre's stage adaptation is the Melbourne Theatre Company's headline act for 2018. A lauded production that began in London's Cottesloe Theatre and ended upwards playing seasons in the West End and Broadway, information technology has been brought to Melbourne by the MTC and Arts Centre Melbourne.
A much dearest bestselling book, adapted for the stage by a remarkable contemporary playwright for the National Theatre. What could possibly go incorrect? As far as the rapturous opening night audience was concerned, non much. Information technology was a hitting before it even opened, with the entire season sold out.
The production is an artfully conceived and skilfully manifested adaptation, which remains, as playwright Simon Stephens himself says, "loyal" to the book. This means that narrative and dialogue have been imported wholesale and given theatrical apparel-ups. There's a strong electric current of sentimentality that makes this very much a story for those on the outside looking in, which perhaps has been exaggerated by the crudities of adaptation to the stage.
Like the book, the production is ingeniously conceived. The vocalisation of Haddon's narrator is vivid and intriguing, and the images interspersing the text have been translated by designers Bunny Christie (set up), Paule Lawman (lighting) and Finn Ross (video) into visual spectacle, with a set that combines projections, drawings and boxes that tin can be repurposed as unlike objects.
The bandage consists of the 4 major characters, Christopher himself (Joshua Jenkins), his father Ed (David Michaels), his mother Judy (Emma Beattie) and his teacher Siobhan (Julie Hale), with all other characters played by the remaining six cast members.
Marianne Elliott (likewise the director of the hitting National Theatre testify War Horse) creates a stylised operation that segues into physical theatre or dance, choreographed past Frantic Assembly's Scott Graham and Steve Hoggett. Actors become props – doors, for case – in ways that irresistibly recalled theatre in education shows I saw in the 1990s. There's no denying it's well done, but as a trope it as well strikes me equally curvation, contributing to a cutely self-conscious charm that begins to grate early on.
This stylisation creates a disconnect that exposes the emotional holes in the story. While the crude characterisations work fine for the minor characters, such every bit headmistress Mrs Gascoyne (Amanda Posener), it creates a dilemma with the major characters around Christopher.
The audition is supposed to empathise with his parents, Ed and Judy, who both struggle with the challenges of dealing with Christopher. Yet they are seldom more speculative sketches, heavily relying on cliche: the inarticulate male parent struggling with his ain emotional bug; the mother who runs off with her dodgy lover, unable to cope with her son.
Presumably the characters that environs Christopher Boone are seen through his subjectivity. Equally he's unable to perceive them except as gross caricatures, that is what they become: ciphers who represent diverse behavioural mysteries. This means the emotional arc of the story is forced to rely on a heavy dose of sentimentality to power it past its more questionable aspects. We discover some deeply disturbing things about Ed, for instance, which are glossed over with a moment of shameless audience-pleasing awwwww that substitutes for whatever actual resolution.
Emotional verity is by and large replaced by spectacle, and this is definitely a very pretty prove. The design is at its most powerful when information technology conveys the panic of data overload when, for example, Christopher travels through the London Hugger-mugger. But fifty-fifty the best furnishings irksome with repetition, and repetition is built into the dramaturgy in means that don't enhance it.
What interested me near virtually the product was its ingenious problem solving, but that's hardly ballast for an entire evening. I couldn't help wondering what it might have been like had Simon Stephens been less loyal to the novel: the adaptation is effectively an blithe book, rather than a translation into theatre, and so plays heavily towards audience expectations rather than surprise. But perhaps a more than radical adaptation might have alienated Haddon's fanbase.
Source: https://www.theguardian.com/stage/2018/jan/17/the-curious-incident-of-the-dog-in-the-night-time-review-spectacle-devoid-of-emotional-verity
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