A Quick Update: Thoughts on Melmoth

I don’t think Melmoth the Wanderer should exist. I’ve read it, a handful of times now, I’ve made sense of the plot, naturally, but... it still doesn’t make sense? I sound crazy, don’t I? Melmoth the Wanderer is a bizarre novel, in the finest of ways, a wonderfully weird novel in the Gothic tradition. The way I understand it, is that Melmoth the Wanderer is not like a real book, it’s like a story within a story (something the novel is very good at, actually!), that is to say, it’s like The King In Yellow, only if the book were actually about The King of Yellow and not the misadventures of those enrapt by said book. Melmoth the Wanderer is fantastical, it reads like the metaphor to another story we simply never hear from. So, how could you possibly adapt the story for stage?

Surprisingly well it seems. A relatively new Irish company (running for twenty five years now), Big Telly, have recently been touring the country with a stage adaption of the novel. I went in expecting the worst, but I’ve been pleasantly surprised. I’ve only been out of the theatre for the two hours, so, my mind is still somewhat scrambled. Even now I’m still trying to put things together.

The play itself does not attempt to control the chaos of the tale, rather it runs with it, unexpectedly it embraces some of the more comical aspects of the story and yet brings something of its own. Each actor brings their own presence to the show, the domineering persona can change within an instant, lights and shadows bound about, the atmosphere is laid thick and the comedy serves only to make light of the human condition. The Wanderer himself joins in on the laughter on occasion, but he laughs not at the comedy, rather the absurdity of it all. He revels in the torturous condition that is life, pain and suffering to him is exquisite, a luxury, he finds pleasure only in the ruthless temptation of others. State and church are a joke, it’s rather apt, but, Melmoth’s life is pain. Deep, right? That being said, the Wanderer himself is not beyond suffering...

Sympathy for the devil.

The stage space is explored with an almost manic edge, as I’ve said, actors bound about, the props are utilised in increasingly inventive ways. Inventive, that’s the show in one word. There is excellent use of a tape recorder, through which the booming voice of Melmoth communicates to the damned, a projector at one point, drenches a backdrop in red as we here gunfire roar to life.

Much like the novel, the heart of the play is twisted. A number of moments are portrayed through devilish pantomime, silent masked figures weave in and out of the scenery without a word of dialogue, the Wanderer’s harrowing tale unfolds through physical expression and a mix of eerie lighting and obscured effects.

Every prop is put to good use.

Purists, looking for a straight adaption of the novel will be disappointed. A great amount of liberty is taken with the source material. It captures the spirit of the novel, however.

Phantasmagoria, shadow play, that’s what it is, at its heart. Shapes move in and out of life and I’m still not one hundred percent certain with what went down. Some actors, double, triple their roles, I lost count to the honest. It’s a savage experience that can both terrify and assuage the heart. At any rate, I highly recommend the show. Check it out... you smelly bastard.

Melmoth is an outsider looking in...