The Select (The Sun Also Rises)

A fast reader might well get through the whole of Ernest Hemingway’s second, some say greatest, novel in the time it takes to watch its live interpretation by Elevator Repair Service.

These darlings of New York’s experimental theatre scene have toured their self-devised long-form homages to American literature around the globe to (mostly) critical acclaim.

Their seven hour production Gatz!, in which the ensemble reads every word of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, was seen in Sydney in 2009.

The Select (The Sun Also Rises) is their latest page-to-stage epic. Trumpeted as the hot ticket of Tasmania’s Ten Days on the Island festival, it opened at Hobart’s Theatre Royal last Friday.

It’s well known that The Sun Also Rises is based on a few weeks Hemingway spent with a clique of privileged American and British expats in 1920s Europe. They were famous exemplars of Gertrude Stein’s ‘lost generation’.

Of all his novels, it contains the most dialogue, which is just as well, because this piece is not an adaptation. ERS seemingly have a fetish for extreme fidelity to their chosen text and the only words heard on stage come from the novel itself. Consequently it contains hefty doses of third person narration, through the character of Jake Barnes, which stitch together the ensemble’s enactment of the events in the story. 

We witness their unrestrained drinking and carousing through the bars and bistrots of Paris, bills left unpaid, as they brawl among themselves over the liberally bestowed attentions of Lady Brett Ashley. Punctuated by a bucolic interlude of fishing en route, the action moves to Pamplona for the running of the bulls and the Fiesta, where Brett falls in and out of love (yet again) with a young matador, and general bad behaviour is repeated, with no apparent lessons learned.

It is a lot to ask of an audience to remain in the company of these shallow, self-absorbed individuals without losing patience. Whatever the literary reputation of the original, scene after bum-numbing scene of post World War I ennui, brittle superficiality and interminable angsting over sexual rejection for three and a half hours was two hours too many for me.

So much for brickbats.

In execution, The Select can scarcely be faulted.

A chaotic lifestyle is reflected in John Collins’ mis-en-scene. The director sets the piece inside a wood-panelled bar, its walls and trestle tables festooned with bottles of liquor and discarded glasses.

In later scenes, tables become improvised beds and riverbanks and charging bulls, rehearsal room fashion, with no loss of effect. 

As if to underline the modernity of the novel, Collins dresses it and his actors in generic twentieth century costume and tropes. In one memorable scene he choreographs a wild party to an obscure (if maddeningly catchy) 1960s French pop song.

It’s a star turn from almost every performer, some playing it straight; others injecting an exaggerated, ironic wink into their characterisations. Respect goes to Mike Iveson as Jake, for his prodigious feats of memory alone, and Lucy Taylor is irresistible as Brett, despite the St Trinian’s feel of her dialogue, ‘say, what?’

Kudos for fabulous sound design goes to ensemble members Matt Tierney and Ben Williams, who operated their (disguised) decks from onstage. And a great lighting scheme added atmosphere to a convincingly created world. 

That said, only a handful of moments harnessed the power of theatre to reveal sub-textual truths about these characters. For instance, after hearing thousands of words, all it took was a red coloured beret mirrored in the red of Romero’s cape (the young matador played by a lithe Susie Sokol) to reveal that Brett the narcissist was attracted to Romero because she was just like him.

For all its inventive stagecraft, I was left feeling baffled about the point of this enterprise. Why choose to shoehorn a novel, without adaptation, into an alien format? Because it’s there? Because you can?

Mere length is not the issue here. At over five hours, Neil Armfield’s production of Cloudstreet remains the shining example of how words from a novel’s pages can be magicked into unforgettable imagery, action and meaning on stage.

Rating: 3 stars out of 5

The Select (The Sun Also Rises)

Created and performed by: Elevator Repair Service 

Co-produced with New York Theatre Workshop
Text: Ernest Hemingway 
Direction: John Collins 
Set and Costume Design: David Zinn 
Lighting Design: Mark Barton
Sound Design: Matt Tierney and Ben Williams 
Producer: Ariana Smart Truman

Cast: Mike Iveson, Matt Tierney, Kate Scelsa, Ben Williams, Pete Simpson, Kaneza Schaal, Vin Knight, Lucy Taylor, Frank Boyd and Susie Sokol

Theatre Royal, Hobart

15 – 20 March

Ten Days on the Island 2013

www.tendaysontheisland.com

15 – 24 March