Venus and Adonis

What happens when we suspend disbelief in the theatre?  Does it ever really happen when we are adult, or are we just kidding ourselves that it does?  Is our response the same aged fiftyfive and at five?  I began to reflect on these questions on the way home from seeing the puppet show of Shakespeare's Venus and Adonis at the Angel Theatre Islington, a joint production with the RSC directed by Gregory Doran.  It's absolutely brilliant, lasts just an hour and raises all sorts of questions about illusion in the theatre.  I have to say that puppetry isn't one of my passions, but around 25 years ago I lived in a block of flats opposite the Moscow Puppet Theatre, and I can vividly remember the noisy jangle of its clock rising across the traffic hum on the ring road flyover.  That was the first place I saw puppetry for adults; some of the Sergei Obraztsov shows were technically adept but looked a bit stale and reflected the rather corny official Soviet style of humour.  In Paris I took parties of small children to the Guignol, a traditional puppet theatre for kids of the kind that isn't common in the UK.  And I've seen puppetry in India.  Last night I went away thrilled and enchanted.  There's a classical guitarist on the left and a reader (John Hopkins) on the right, and in front of a gilded 17th century theatrical proscenium, three or four puppeteers manipulate the wooden figures.  It's a magical conjuring trick, and it brought home to me how quick and easy it can be in the theatre to get the audience to buy in to a convention.  Doran's production is partly inspired by Japanese Bunraku puppetry, a style in which, if I've understood it correctly, the puppets are always manipulated on rods rather than on strings.  The puppeteers are clearly visible, though clothed in black, but for me it made no real difference.  Visually I believed in the reality of the characters and their movements, even if I knew they were just carved lumps of wood.  Is my response the same when I see live actors in the theatre?   I think it is.   Anyway, Doran's production is a triumph of long preparation, experiment and hard work and shows all the same acute and subtle qualities as his other stage productions.  It's sexy (Venus is a real slapper), funny and the perfect way to rediscover a Shakespeare poem that almost nobody reads.  Venus stamps her feet in frustration at Adonis's reluctance to respond to her embraces, two horses show off, a giant boar roars across the stage and Venus arrives and departs on a golden carriage born by doves.  Wonderful.