The Shaw Festival Theatre Review: Gnit
By Ross
After bowing most gracefully to their partner, this three-pairs waltz charges forward, exchanging roles in a game of mimic tag, before one is left holding the proverbial ball. “Never have children,” the woman tells us, before unpacking an opposite turn on the phrase. This old woman is Gnit’s mother, portrayed by the brilliant Nehassaiu deBannes (Shaw’s The House That Will Not Stand), and she takes over the space that is Gnit, the thoroughly fascinating and endlessly engaging abstract written most dynamically by Will Eno (Thom Pain (based on nothing); Wakey, Wakey). I knew it was going to be a wickedly wild and complex conundrum of ideas and thoughts, processed and unleashed on us at the Shaw Festival‘s intimate Jackie Maxwell Studio Theatre (until October 4th), but I had no idea how utterly enjoyable the whole experience was going to be.
Directed inventively by Tim Carroll (Shaw’s My Fair Lady), Gnit, as played dynamically by Qasim Khan (CS’s The Inheritance), is the kind of guy who is amusing enough until you start to realize how self-absorbed he really is, how he makes a “lifetime of bad decisions,” driven by a narcissistic search for his “true self,” but it’s really just an unconscious desire to not worry about all those others who stand about him. Loosely based on Henrik Ibsen’s 1867 Peer Gynt, a five-act play written in verse, playwright Eno has crafted a finely tuned two-act cautionary tale that never proceeds as expected, but climbs and rollicks itself around the open space with sharpness, while delivering the weirdest of things said to a cast of characters that envelope, in a manner of speaking, the whole of humanity, or at least the entirety of a town. Or no one at all.
Played out in the most perfect of rotations, the rest of the cast: Julia Course (Shaw’s Tons of Money) as Solvay and more; Patrick Galligan (Shaw’s Major Barbara) as Moynihan and (so much) more; Mike Nadajewski (Shaw’s On the Razzle) as a whole Town and more; and Gabriella Sundar Singh (Shaw’s The Secret Garden) as the Woman in Green and so many more, move and shape shift, finding loads of moments of authenticity even in the play’s abstractionisms. They dutifully and brilliantly fling themselves, thanks to the fine work of movement director Alexis Milligan (Shaw’s One Man, Two Guvnors), in, around, on, and about the blocks of grey, created and aligned in the most impossibly perfect manner by set and costumes designer Hanne Loosen (Shaw’s Flush), with exacting lighting by Kevin Lamotte (Shaw’s The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe) with music direction, original music, and sound by Claudio Vena (Shaw’s Everybody). It’s astonishingly captivating, even when we aren’t entirely sure where it is heading.
Course as Gnit’s love, Solvay, is ethereal, enchanting, but also enlightening and strong, as she waits, while also moving forward, embracing the beauty of a place and an idea. Then there is the genius of deBannes, imparting dry wisdom at every turn, while holding on to her tired physical being with clarity and deliberation. And the rest follow suit, unpacking formulations worthy of their own masterclass on actions, decisions, and connections. Opposing ideas are floated out, smashing themselves together to create an idea of wanting and waiting, while speaking with one voice. “Or not,” he says, almost immediately after claiming to understand an idea or viewpoint.
Gnit by Eno is everything and nothing, faithful and unfaithful to Ibsen while maintaining a viewpoint that is disregarded from the moment it is vocalized. It hangs in the air, falling from the giant tubes up above, aiming to bring clarity where there is none. And to give meaning to the meaningless task of trying to discover one’s True Self. I’ve never been more completely pulled in by a narcissist philosophy, where there is all reason, but no empathy. It’s precise, playful, deliberate, and unreal, in all the best ways. Or maybe not. You tell me, but see it so you can make the call all on your own. Don’t let me sway you, as I sway you to go see the Shaw Festival‘s Gnit. You won’t be disappointed. Or maybe you will… only you will be able to tell me which side you climb off on.
