February 1, 2013
The GazetteJanuary 31, 2013
By Pat Donnelly
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In J.M. Coetzee’s novel Waiting for the Barbarians, a middle-age magistrate in a forlorn outpost of an unnamed empire witnesses a struggle between colonial forces and a mysterious nomadic tribe labelled “the barbarians.” His position of privilege is soon eroded, a process hastened by his strange sensual attachment to an injured barbarian girl. He becomes a victim of the evil empire he once represented. And we are supposed to care, as time passes, and the sands of power shift.
The magistrate is a kind of Everyman, with the emphasis on the word “man.”
While reading the 1980 novel in preparation for the North American premiere of director Alexandre Marine’s adaptation of Waiting for the Barbarians, I found it sluggish going, brutal and bleak, overburdened with philosophical introspection spouted by an anti-hero for whom I had little sympathy, partly because of his hypocrisy, partly because of his sleazy view of women.
But a play is another thing.
Marine’s version of the story is an admirable piece of lyrically staged literature, remarkably true to the novel, although somewhat lighter in tone, thanks to the constraints of theatre. Some details of human suffering demand a realism better served by film than theatre. In the book, when the Magistrate returns from a perilous journey, having brought his crippled, blind barbarian concubine back to her people, he is described as a shadow of his former self, barely recognizable. On stage, however, the South African actor who portrays him, Grant Swanby, only manages to look mildly dishevelled. We have to imagine the rest.
Swanby does an excellent job of portraying, and selling, his character, making him somewhat more likeable than the man in the book. Another aspect of the “lightening up” of the material is Marine’s concept of the prostitute, Zoe (Kimberly-Anne Laferrière), who comes across as a perky Victoria Secret’s underwear model. She looks high-rent, urban, not likely to be working for a pittance in such a dump. But her dancer’s moves, along with a sense of irony added by Marine, make the brothel scenes more palatable, pathos diluted by comic relief and strip-show titillation.
As usual with Marine, there are sudden choreographic moments, mainly segues into the Magistrate’s dream world — which remains inhabited by the barbarian girl (Chuma Sopotela) long after she is gone.
Some of them are breathtaking. Sopotela is like a spirit arisen from the book, always riveting to watch. The foot-washing scene between her and Granby is as hauntingly symbolic as it is on the page.
Marine, aided by his superb, mainly South African cast, has done wonders in transforming this almost-impossible-to-stage novel into a public event worth attending. But in order to serve up the philosophical portions of the book that he has deemed necessary, he has had to lean on Swanby to deliver them directly to the audience, making for declamatory lulls in the action.
Meanwhile, the ensemble carries the momentum. Nicholas Pauling, as the caricatural colonel, Khayalethu Anthony, as a wittily subversive yet servile soldier, Owen Manamela-Mogane, Ruben Engel and Adrian Collins all master the highly gestural Marine style.
Waiting for the Barbarians, graced with a spare, deftly designed set by Craig Leo (whose credits include the international hit War Horse) and enhanced by discreet incidental music composed by Dmitri Marine, is a fine piece of art theatre, if not a great play.
Marine plus Coetzee doesn’t quite add up to South African playwright Athol Fugard. (Although there are cultural similarities between the two writers, they rule in separate realms.) Still, those who have grappled with Coetzee’s book will want to see this interpretation of it. And vice versa.
Waiting for the Barbarians, by J.M. Coetzee, adapted and directed by Alexandre Marine, continues until Feb. 17 at the Segal Centre, 5170 Côte St. Catherine Rd. Call 514-739-7944 or visit www.segalcentre.org