Theatre 2's intimate performance space provided an apt arena for Living Pictures Productions’ Diary of a Madman. As the audience entered in a dim light, a large man lay on his back, asleep or dead I wondered, on a square platform of plain wooden pallets, an origami bird sat on his chest. The atmosphere this created was tangible.

And it wasn’t just visibly or audibly tangible. It connected to all the senses, and created something real and spontaneous -- from Sarah Beaton's purposeful and minimalistic set; Roland Melia’s/Tom Raybould's tragic and jarring music/sound design; Sinead Rushe's carefully crafted (choreographed, even) staging, to actor Robert Bowman's pure and personal performance. The source of that tangibility was the Michael Chekov Technique – which is what the production was about and was a great part of its success.

Adapted for the stage from the farcical short story by Russian playwright, short-story writer, and novelist Nikolai Gogol, and written in the 1850s during the repressive era of Nicholas I, Diary of a Madman is as relevant today.  Set in St. Petersburgh in 1830s Russia, Diary of a Madman is a biting and uncomfortable story that centres on the life of a minor civil servant, Poprishchin, and following the format of a diary, shows his descent into insanity.

As Bowman brought this story to life, improvising the script in places and adding modern linguistic twists to a 19^th century tale, it could easily have been set in today’s hypocritically class-ridden 'classless society', our institutions top-heavy with over-paid, barely-capable, status-seeking management, causing an avalanche of illness and disability amongst its workforces.   

Bowman's performance reached out and touched us with every inch of his largeness. He wasn’t just showing us something he’d created in rehearsal; we were witnessing him creating. He drew us in and endeared us with his ice blue eyes and truly sweet smile - features that made this pathetic character so loveable. He won me over quite early on in this 70-minute one-man, one-act play. On one of his many rants, this one trashing his company's accountant: ‘Jew, old Jew, skin flint Jew’... he paused, and with a sincere-eyed aside begged apologetically, ‘Sorry’.

Scenes were punctuated by a succession of diary dates and an assortment of paper props, which, in the absence of other actors, gave Bowman something to work with and against, those same eyes and smile radiated on Nov 8, when lying belly down in the centre of his pallet ‘world’ (ouch!) he revealed a cleverly lit pop-up theatre and, laughing ‘til he ached, revelled in the cleverness of it all.

At times awkward, like when Bowman’s big-boned Poprishchin had to tip-toe around on his tiny raft of a stage; or when he ‘lay down on his bed for some time’ -- that has got to be uncomfortable! Awkward, too, as some of the ‘paperwork’ was overdone and unnecessary -- like when he tried and missed but persisted to fix the Oct 4 diary entry to the light pull; and at one significant point during the character’s transition from mad to completely mad, he seemed to struggle to sustain the Technique. The awkwardness made me feel uncomfortable not just for me, but for him, but with so much thought and precision and theatrical craft gone into this production, I quickly resolved that it somehow added to the rawness and truthfulness of the experience.

The relevance of the story, mixed with the textures the production created, made its mark on me. This short performance was great value. Adding value, I will always opt for the performance which offers a Q&A afterwards, and so it was on this occasion.

Director Rushe and Actor Bowman talked about their aim with this production to experiment with Michael Chekhov’s techniques, called the Faculty of Imagination. The tangibility I experienced has its roots in this process, where ‘Movement, Atmosphere, and Concentration are tools for the building of a role and the birth of a production’ (http://www.chekhov.net).   It was a privilege to have the opportunity to access the insights of two such committed, creative professionals.  

Catch it on tour.

Leslie Herman Jones

Photo Credit: Katy Stephenson