Firstly, this is top-class physical theatre.
Created and directed by Emily Ayoub and Madeline Baghurst, and performed by these two artists and Christopher Carroll, Plenty of Fish in the Sea is a visual wonder.
The choreographed movement is extraordinary, and the individual clowning a treat – replete with hilarious visual gags and moments of playful poignancy.
Tobhiyah Stone Feller’s design is both beautiful and inventive and, mounted all on wheels, it dances with the performers. The soundscape with composition by Daniel Herten is enchanting and fun, and the performers’ interaction with it is superb. Victor Kalka’s lighting design is a gorgeous game of light and shadow, creating a magical aura that invites us into the play’s fabulous world.
Which brings me to Secondly: What is it all about?
On the surface, a French speaking nun (Je ne pourrais pas) and her silent novitiate go fishing and catch – with a hook – a man. They then want to teach him to fish. He learns. They catch a huge amount of fish. He says too many. And I’ll leave it there.
Except for the sex. I really should mention the sex.
Fables don’t usually have sex (which is probably why they’re of little interest to most people.) I guess the piece is a fable about excess, in particular sexual excess; a sort of allegorical presentation of the endless opportunities offered in our society for hooking up, and the way that can lead to hyper-sexualisation (which may, or may not, be a good thing.)
You can probably sense a little doubt. I’m uncertain about the meaning of the piece for two reasons. One reason is the work’s potential for sensory overload, which (for me, at least) results in semantic overload. In addition to the extraordinary visuals and soundscape, there’s also spoken word. A recorded voice over reads from a book the women have given the man. The book appears to be some treasured text about fishing, but it’s salted with symbolism and mischievous hints of higher meaning (or perhaps lower meaning; see earlier comments about sex.) I found the VO difficult to follow; I’m not sure if that was because of a technical thing or an accent thing. There’s also a lot of talk from the French speaking nun which, va sans dire que, I didn’t understand. The only spoken word accessible to me was the dialogue of the male character, and I felt positioned a little like him – bewildered, charmed, and ultimately fucked over (in the nicest possible way.)
The second reason I’m uncertain about the meaning is that I’m not sure the piece really does operate as a fable or an allegory.
Perhaps, instead, it does what abstract art can do: that is, present a mood that resists or escapes linguistic statement. (Picasso, or somebody, said something about not wanting to paint what trees look like, but rather how they make you feel.)
Or, perhaps, the piece functions as a sort of Zen koan; a teasingly deliberate denial of certainty; a cheeky refusal to flatten into a dull, explicit meaning; a type of tricksy epistemological illusion that offers intimations of spiritual liberation.
Whatever the case, seek depth, if you want – but know for sure this work delivers true delight.
Paul Gilchrist
Plenty of Fish in the Sea by Emily Ayoub and Madeline Baghurst
Played at New Theatre, as part of the Sydney Fringe,
17 -21 September
Image by Geoff Magee
Theatre Red 