There’s something so flexible, so slippery about old stories. That of the mermaid of Zennor has slid from legend to folk song to film, from a two line footnote to chamber opera. Moon On A Stick Productions have padded the narrative of a beautiful, church-going mermaid with puppetry, song and a completely new framing device, without fully concealing its slender nature.
A young couple, sporting on the beach, find a baby in a rockpool, pale of skin and inscrutable of origin. They bring her up as their own, longed-for child, Imogen (Alice Sillett). As she inexpertly folds sheets with her mother folding sheets she begs to hear her favourite tale, the story of the mermaid of Zennor. The mother’s narrative frames the action of the play, as it draws in her daughter, deeper and deeper. Henry (Benedict Hastings) becomes fixated on a beautiful woman who comes to church each Sunday – Chloe Ward bringing a compelling watchability to her largely wordless part. There are some clever bits of staging, with an almost televisual quality – Henry’s muttered conversation to his friend in church is brilliantly managed, half hidden by the waves of the aptly chosen hymn “For those in peril on the sea.” The cast’s singing in general is strong, and creates a soothing whole with Shelly Atton’s design of tastefully arranged nauticalia, and scenes directed with close attention to the picture being crafted. The pace suffers from being a little too gentle, though – we could do with some humour, or sharpness to brisk up the pace.
So much for the land part of the story. As things escalates, more and more of the story takes place under the sea, the mermaid’s domain, where she ties enthralled humans in hair-like ropes. There’s a jarring kind of teeny-goth aesthetic, all red and green light, and thumping electronica; the contrast is exhilarating after life among slow-paced landlubbers. Together, the cast move puppets to create undulating, dream-like sequences. The size contrast is really effective, the huge mermaid looming out like a Disney Ursula over the floundering little humans. Where the scenes fall down is in the puppets’ odd stiffness, more like marionettes than fluid sea creatures – the mermaid looks brittle, like the water would dissolve her papier-mâché wiles long before her victims were secured. A surprising episode with a giant squid, pulsating with fairy lights, offers some real, surreal menace to this dark nightclub under the sea.
This young company have come up with a really nice, neat concept. The puppets pack away in trunks, and might do well from a trip to the seaside, and maybe a daytime slot, to lure in a family audience. Even with its new framing device, the narrative is simple, and could stand to be trimmed of a few its more floundering exercises in atmosphere. Not too harshly, though – creating a quaint mood of mystery is what this sea piece does best.
