© pARTisan #13’2011

Afterwards (a reality show for the theatre in one act, by Viaćasłau Inaziemcau, InZest Theatre) 

(translated fragmentary)

There is an empty space, filled with smoke. A ‘baby’ emerges from the living plastic mass, as if pushed out. The ‘baby’ lights a torch, its flames glowing on the cold walls of the ‘cave’. What is going on? Where am I? What am I? The flames ‘explode.’ A fireproof screen comes down. An iron curtain separates the ‘baby’ from the audience.

The subject of the person and the system is brought up in most of the performances staged by the InZest plastic movement theatre, since it came into being in the early 1980s as a protest against the system. The company have made the game and carnival as a way of reviving dead rituals their guiding principle.

Resistance to the system still goes on, but the ‘baby’ now realises that belonging to it is the main rule of the game. Human body is a system, too.

It restricts the individual’s freedom, imposing desires and directing one’s will. What am I and why am I, then? Afterwards is woven of infinite political, social, philosophical and religious questions.

The audience do not understand if that is a real fire or part of the show. Indignant, they want to get out, but the exit doors are locked. Panic is mounting. Attracted by odd flickering, some ‘rebels’ come to the iron curtain. Touching the wall, they find themselves stuck to it, unable to break free. They are Chosen to take part in the show.

Removing the division line between the stage and the audience is one of Viaćasłau Inaziemcau’s favourite methods. This time the fireproof curtain turns into a character in the play, locking up the actors and the audience in one bunker. Leaving the theatre, the audience find themselves in another reality show, even though roles are not so clearly outlined and there are seemingly no walls or locked doors.

‘Get undressed!’ says an invisible mechanical voice. At first the Chosen Ones ignore the order, but punished for their disobedience, they become submissive and meekly take their cells in the iron curtain.

Yet, it is not a drama. Serious and tragic notes are undermined by jokes and irony. The audience’s laughter overcomes fear.

Finally the chief ‘comedian’ appears to the sound of cheerful music, lit by numerous multicoloured lights. Wearing white make-up and a golden jacket, he comes to each ‘cell’, greeting the Chosen Ones. Show must go on! The people in the cells are smiling and dancing, they are happy to be on TV! Yet, you’ve lost, you have forever lost. Game’s over.

However, at the darkest moment a ‘hero’ wearing a suit of armour appears. He puts his huge sword through the comedian turned villain. But the villain is not dead, he is only asleep. Not knowing what to do, the ‘hero’ leaves. The Chosen Ones try to escape, but the villain wakes up and mercilessly orders them to climb up to the ceiling and chain themselves to the wall. All of a sudden, their chains turn into wings. Chained and maimed, they float in the air.

When the show is over, the Chosen Ones cross the division line, to find themselves in the empty space again. Their lives are burnt, ashes flying in the air. Here comes the silence.

Is it the end? Why has it all happened if we still end up in nothingness? Is there any meaning to it, if there is neither ‘good’ nor ‘evil’?

The performance gives no answers, but it leaves no room for despair, either. Both the actors and the audience are overwhelmed by a savage dance, which brings them back to a free primordial element.

Translated by Sviatłana Sous

© photos by another.by

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