Rapunzel

	Rapunzel BAC, London
	Dolan Cummings posted 24 December 2006
	There is no time like Christmas for letting your hair down, and this year’s Christmas show at BAC is all about doing just that. Magic, puppets, the obligatory singalong, and even a fair smattering of sex and violence make Rapunzel ideal seasonal entertainment for children ready for something more challenging that the Teletubbies, and for adults who don’t relish the prospect of minor celebrities hamming it up in Aladdin. Rapunzel is also required viewing for fans of BAC’s associate artists Kneehigh. Of course ‘viewing’ is not quite the right word. You never just sit back and watch a Kneehigh show, even when it isn’t flirting with panto. At no stage is the audience required to shout, ‘He’s behind you!’, but if we do it’s because we’re carried away by the story, rather than observing panto ritual. The audience is often tempted to rise from the not-quite-tasteful, Vivienne Westwood-designed cushions we sit on, to peer under the semi-exposed stage and see what’s going on. And the performers, especially Paul Hunter as Pierluigi Ambrosi, regularly prod, wobble and leap the fourth wall, ensuring that we feel as complicit in the story as they are. In the opening scenes, we watch Rapunzel grow from a puppet baby to a puppet child and finally into a woman (Edith Tankus) – in every sense of the word – precipitating the story as we know it. Rapunzel’s guardian, Mike Shepherd in close to full Dame-mode as the herbalist Mother Gothel, is jealously protective and encases her charge in a tower only accessible by climbing Rapunzel’s own long hair (‘Ow-ow-ow’). Years pass, and then along comes Pieter Lawman as the handsome prince Patrizio, and Rapunzel discovers a love that is less suffocating, if not much less painful. Indeed, Kneehigh followers will be reminded of Tristan and Yseult, in which director Emma Rice conjured a similarly wild, sensual, and reckless vision of romantic love, involving live gypsy-style music and much swinging about the set. If your heart isn’t breaking, you aren’t doing it right. This time at least we are assured of a happy ending, though: where children are concerned, suffering must be rewarded rather than being its own strangely intoxicating reward. Separated from Patrizio, Rapunzel tells herself that her love is stronger than anything fate can throw at her, and so it proves. The story is told with great gusto and humour. At one point, Rapunzel’s friend the wild boar (a beautifully made puppet) defecates on the centre of the stage, apparently as a gift for Rapunzel. Edith Tankus’ hesitantly polite response perfectly expresses her character’s complex charm in an instant, and naturally Rapunzel’s good manners are rewarded (with magic acorns in this case). Throughout the action, which includes singing, dancing, gardening, and a brief and not terribly instructive lecture on inflation, the audience wills Rapunzel on to the happy ending she so richly serves, before being sent off into the night clutching complimentary plant seeds. Till 14 January 2007.