Reconstruction of a Personal Tragedy
Nika Arhar
Transport: Departure. Ljubljana Puppet Theatre, premiere 9 November 2024
December 5, 2024
Following the performance Transport: Cargo at the Maribor Puppet Theatre, Transport: Departure (15+) is the second independent production within an international project involving six theatres, led by director Tin Grabnar. This project explores questions of sustainable living both in terms of content and production. In small mobile performances and through a thoughtful use of resources, such as miniature 3D-printed human figurines and models mostly made from biodegradable plastics (corn starch and sugarcane), Grabnar addresses contemporary issues of globalisation, economic development, and the impacts of social processes on the environment. The intertwining of human actions with natural ecosystems is the central theme of Departure, which he co-created with dramaturg Ajda Rooss. The material for the project was collected and developed with the involvement of Tjaša Bertoncelj, Ana Duša, and Urša Majcen. While Grabnar has previously explored environmental changes through animal and plant species in The Sky Above (with the story of a polar bear) and Vanishing World (disappearance of plant species and biodiversity), with Departure, he focuses on a geographically closer reality – last year’s floods in Slovenia. With the real story of a family who lost their home in the flood, Departure responds realistically, directly, and urgently to the reality that increasingly threatens us with more frequent storms, floods, and landslides from all parts of the world. These are consequences of excessive interference with the environment, exploitation of natural resources, and devastating climate changes, continuously warning against the disregard of space as a holistic natural system and its disproportionate subjugation to human needs.
“With the real story of a family who lost their home in the flood, Departure responds realistically, directly, and urgently to the reality that increasingly threatens us with more frequent storms, floods, and landslides from all parts of the world / … / continuously warning against the disregard of space as a holistic natural system and its disproportionate subjugation to human needs.”
This minimised reality of the family evening, already imprinted with the insignificance of humans in the encompassing nature, is given broader context and understanding through an emphasised documentary framework. Animators Aja Kobe and Ajda Toman first accurately locate the event by presenting the environment—the house in the middle of a “paradisiacal” green patch of nature, with trees around and a river source behind the house—and by playing a field recording from a dictaphone – a realistic, crackling sound recording of the Fužir family from Prevalje, whom the creators visited. The complete picture of Departure thus consists of two parts that are dramaturgically separated and sequential, but thematically complementary perspectives: the personal family story and the social-environmental context that fundamentally marks this story. In the duality, parallelism, and even fragmentation of the social or external and intimate, there is also meaningful information.
With the opening part, which utilises and enhances the principle of animation as the placement, movement, and arrangement of static human figures, objects, and scenic spaces in its inherent potential for establishing and constructing a narrative, the performance clearly introduces a documentary perspective, which later shifts stylistically to an intimate and fictionalised image of the family evening. The working method of the performance mechanism, with the animators in the role of hosts directing and inviting the audience to the event, and with the highlighted preparation of the stage setup, also contributes to building the context – both for the further unfolding of the story and for guiding the audience’s perspective to see the event as a reconstruction of something that actually happened.
We see glasses of water (which later appear as an element in the plant misters, with which the animators create the rain curtains), and patches of forest landscape, over which the animators direct spotlights like in a detective-forensic investigation. This expressive and suggestive gesture, together with other stage images, such as when a group of worker figurines and trucks appear on stage, followed by trees that fall with a simple pull of a string (accompanied by the sole interpretative moment of tragic musical accompaniment), paves the way for a clear prediction. The portrayal in a few static frames may seem modest, but primarily because it focuses on objective reality without explaining or searching for explanations. This principle continues in the minimalist flow of simple everyday life, with a few unambiguous hints that support the audience’s expectations, such as water dripping through the roof or mopping puddles in the kitchen. It is clear what we are waiting for and expecting, as in the structure of the performance, unplanned, surprising promises are eliminated. Perhaps we are mostly waiting to see how and when it will happen, and we almost forget that we are waiting for something. And it happens with a sense of fleetingness, a short moment that doesn’t provide the real “relief” from the anticipation, but is true to reality.
And Transport: Departure follows this premise. The on-stage action consistently avoids artificial intensification, fullness, saturation, and tragedy, thus avoiding stronger dramaturgical tension, personal involvement, and emotional overwhelm. With this approach—along with a clearly established “this could happen to us too” stance—it challenges the productivity of the monotonous flow of reality, realised in the privilege of distance—in an unburdened proximity of an open but not directly involved experience—and triggers a reflection of the kind that does not deal with simple or simplified solutions (including small acts of personal contribution in the blind alley of pure conscience, individual responsibility, and helplessness), but rather serves as the basis for broader contemplation and attempts to understand the complexity of the issues embedded in the relationship between humans and the environment and the related social order of our lives. This breadth can certainly be welcomed; there is no space for it in daily politics and pragmatism, although it is fundamental thinking, essential in building awareness and understanding of the world that shapes the mental image of society and consequently our actions and decisions. And last but not least, it is the thinking that does not primarily focus on humans alone. Transport: Departure encompasses it with sensitivity, innovatively and thoughtfully in its theatrical approach, although it is a risky move that works somewhat vaguely and loosely, as it does not present the audience with concrete, already clarified problems for analysis and does not involve them in an intentional sensory immersion. From a creative perspective, the performance also brings back the question of strategies of (socially engaged) theatre and its effects related to questions about the purpose and power of theatre. As it turns out, Transport: Departure has a clear stance on its intention, unmistakably offered for reflection, with all its theatrical and social paradoxes and contradictions that we must take into account.