Theatre

The essence of Peter Brook’s new play, 11 and 12, is the dispute over whether a certain Muslim prayer should be recited 11 or 12 times. It is based on the book Tierno Bokar by the African writer, Amadou Hampaté Bâ, and draws on vivid experiences from his own life.

Adapted by director Peter Brook in partnership with Marie-Hélène Estienne, 11 and 12 is a fresh, expanded version of the critically acclaimed play, Tierno Bokar. The original was performed in Warwick, using the French language, in 2005.

This new, English-language production by Théâtre des Bouffes du Nord plays at the Barbican, London, until 27th February before extending to an international tour. The cast includes Makram J. Khoury, Tunji Lucas, Antonio Gil Martinez*, Jared McNeill, Khalifa Natour, Abdou Ouologuem, César Sarachu* and Maximilien Seweryn. The music is created and performed by Toshi Tscuhitori.

Makram Khoury is compelling in the gentle way that he brings to life the Koranic teacher, Tierno Bokar. But all the actors in this production bring one to the realisation that there is theatre of a purely entertaining kind, and there is theatre of the kind that marks the mind.

In 11 and 12, the drama explores an extraordinary conflict in West Africa under French occupation. It shows the contradictions that can come about through religious interpretation and how radically these affect everyday life.  The play highlights the importance of living through religious conflicts with personal integrity. “What is God?” one character asks. “God is an embarrassment of the human mind,” responds another.

From my experience of Brook’s theatre in the 80s, I suspect that each theatrical performance is quite different to the last; one senses that there is both discipline and freedom in the way actors operate on the stage and off it.

What goes on behind the scenes is, perhaps, carried through under the lights: the sense of each player being aware of the space between him and others, for instance; the finely balanced  way they move around the stage; and the ability of two actors gaze steadily, unflinchingly into each other’s eyes. At any rate, I found the performance gave momentary opportunities to experience meditation in action: truly vivifying. Momentary, only because the quality of my attention flickers and fizzes.

At the outset of play, the setting for 11 and 12 appears sparse but – just as the desert does – it comes to life under the lights. Likewise, the very first impression of the cast in interaction is that every word and gesture has been pared down to what is essential. There is little chance for identification with any particular role: the actors morph from one character into another, as in Jared McNeill’s moment of high comedy when he reshapes clothing and parodies his mother.

An accidentally discovered phrase well describes the impressionistic way 11 and 12 works upon the mind. “Tell me and I will forget, show me and I might remember, involve me and I will understand.”

In the moments that one can give full attention to the action and dialogue of 11 and 12, which is fast-moving and not over-amplified, the sense of separation from the stage is negligible.

On the night I attended, César Sarachu brought refined impact to various characters, not least as a dying man when his hand and arm, raised to the sky, stiffens into immobility. And the arm stays there until it is gently lowered, still rigid, by another actor.  Such attention is not summoned without sacrifice, as G.I. Gurdjieff might say. Another searcher for truth and meaning, akin to that of Tierno Bokar; an influence known also to Brook.

The question one is left tussling with after seeing 11 and 12 is the apt and yet very contradictory meaning of Bokar’s phrase: “My truth, your truth and the truth.”

There was a long pause at the end of the play. A moth danced in the empty space on stage, and we wondered later whether it was a deliberate device; nobody else appeared to see it. The actors walked back on stage together and the audience erupted in applause. They came back a second time, and Jared McNeill brought his hands together and clapped the audience.

Yes, 11 and 12 is challenging drama. It demands focus and tolerance from its audience and perhaps it gives you back exactly what you put into it…

*Antonio Gil Martinez takes César Sarachu’s place at the Barbican until 27th February.

http://www.barbican.org.uk/theatre