St. Bernard - A Man a Fish

Often when I read a play my mind jumps forward into staging, lighting, the possibility of working in slapstick...

Generally speaking, the written word itself becomes less important than what the play evokes in my mind. However, this is not the case with Donna-Michelle St. Bernards work. I have to stop and listen to the sound these words make, and imagine the rhythm that they could pulse when woven together and brought to life. The script is a score. Ive known DM for a relatively short time; however, in that time I have, without fail, been ceaselessly impressed and halted by the power of her writing.

This play, which you are about to read, is no exception. A play like this carries a certain richness that is rare to find. DM has a way of being able to create the most heart-wrenching, honest, and poetic scenariosand then gleefully sabotage these moments with a single comedic jab to make the tears you just wept get snorted back up in an undignified laugh. For me, thats what the purpose of theatre really is. Perhaps more than many other art forms, theatre allows us to stretch our vulnerabilities out and shake them dry with humour. But only if the playwright is brave enough to not take their artistry to be prophetic feelynesswhich is not a wordbut then again, neither is ginormous.

And now both of them are published. Silliness aside, I do mean to identify this, the almost musical ability to use a spectrum of emotion, to be one of the great strengths of DMs ability as a playwright. And it is no accident. I once received a new draft of a play from DMit was actually about three drafts further along than when I had read it last. Reading it again I knew something was different; it felt different. And yet I couldnt put my finger on what, exactly, had changed.

When I went back to the older draft for comparison I found minute changes that I would have missed altogether if the actual weight of the piece hadnt shifted so considerably. Everything matters. And everything is well thought out. Its this craft and dedication that allows the playwright to take a very real topicsuch as, say... the current practices of neo-colonial fisheriesand show you the human story around this issue. But that would just be a good playwright; what makes this playwright exceptional is that, if you pay very close attention, you can see that this human story itself is a web of parallels, metaphors, and landscapes; so complex a web that the only way to make sense of it is to step back and take it all in.

If theres one thing that sums up for me the experience of engaging with DMs workit very much is to enjoy the silence, because there is never a moment that the silence isnt part of the full composition. But praise aside now. In this play I would ask you to consider a few images and ideas: Ripples, the circular vibrations formed from one impact point reverberating ad infinitum. Clinks and clanks, the sound of tin on tin, or of any substance really when clashing with its own kin. Horizons, the points at which the terrestrial disappears or kisses its opposite, points that challenge our notions of fully perceiving time. And finally, running.

What exactly do we run from, what do we run to, and what stops us? Of course, theres more. Theres always so much more. So go, bask in some beauty, and meet sadness with a grin. Jivesh Parasram is a multidisciplinary artist, facilitator, and researcher. His past artistic work has explored themes of human security, migrant populations, and international law. His current work deals with affect, disidentification, and the critical aesthetics of resistance.

He is a founding member of Pandemic Theatre (www.pandemictheatre.ca), a Toronto-based theatre collective that creates, develops, and produces socio-political work from critical and marginalized perspectives. A Man A Fish was first produced by Persephone Theatre at the Backstage Stage in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, between October 23 and November 3, 2013, and featured the following cast and creative team:

Prosper: fisherman Solange: fishwife Eddy: eel salesman Edige: bartender Ines: possibly a ghost, or an imagining, or a diversion. In any case...