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Nobody likes a desperate clown >> Heavy theme undermines enjoyment of Giacobbe by AMY BARRATT No matter what language you say it in, Daniele Finzi Pasca is a sweetie-pie. In his one-man shows--Icaro, seen last year at Usine C, and Giacobbe, currently running there--it's impossible not to fall for Pasca's bumbling, big-hearted persona. That said, if I were in a deep depression, I'm not sure this multilingual clown performer is the first person I would call. Let me see if I can sum up the plot of Giacobbe: a horse which has been travelling the world returns home depressed. The horse is not just unhappy; he has fallen into that black pit of despair that we humans call clinical depression, refusing to eat or rise from his bed of hay. Pasca's clown is the stable-hand/friend who stays with the horse (represented by a hapless audience member) and tries to talk him out of the dumps. That's it. The Italo-Swiss Pasca performs the piece for Quebec audiences in endearing, broken French, but he is also able to do it in English, Spanish and his native Italian. The title of the piece is a reference to the Biblical patriarch Jacob--not to his famous dream about the ladder but to his having seen the face of God while wrestling with Him, and survived, suffering only a dislocated hip in the process. (You can look it up: Genesis 32:24-30). Although I guess I can see a connection between depression and wrestling with God, the piece itself does nothing to help me make that link. There's also something going on--we learn from programme notes and Pasca's trademark goofy prologue--to do with the writer-performer's deceased father. Apparently, a lot of the things he says to the horse are things he would have liked to say to his father. If I am being too literal in leaping to the conclusion that Pasca père must have suffered from depression, my apologies to the family. Whatever the real source of the piece, this notion that you can talk, joke or love someone out of a depression is Giacobbe's great weakness. That's not to say that some of it isn't amusing and delightful. From physical bits (not enough of them) to hilarious rambling stories, Pasca captivates. Something as simple as putting a tablecloth on a table becomes a 10-minute tour-de-force in Pasca's hands, leaving a number of spectators close to tears from laughing. His detailed descriptions of how he imagines his own funeral--something he says we all should do two or three times a day to cheer ourselves up--are priceless. The problem is that the truly depressed person (or horse) imagines his own funeral and, instead of parades and fireworks (Pasca's version), foresees no one showing up. If Pasca simply got up and performed this material without putting it in the context of a battle with someone's depression, he would have a somewhat thin but entertaining show. The simple set representing a cobweb-y barn is beautifully lit by Marco Finzi Pasca (Daniele's brother). There is a spotlight that becomes a third character in the piece, but I can't be sure who that character is supposed to be (God? Pasca's father? One of Jacob's angels?). There are many lovely images and ideas here that are not sufficiently developed. Perhaps, in the end, the theme is just too personal, too much like therapy to make good theatre. Nobody wants to see a clown's desperation.
Giacobbe continues to Sept. 12 at Usine C, $26 reg, $20 students/seniors; 521-4493. Pasca is also offering a workshop (in French): "La vision du clown ou le travail de l'acteur tragi-comique," Sept. 6-11. Registration till Saturday, Sept. 4, $175. Info: 521-4198 |