Wenceslas I was the Prince of Bohemia until his death in 935 where, according to legend, he was murdered by his brother Boleslav. He was posthumously declared a king and patron saint of the Czech state. Also according to legend, Wenceslas was said to have sent 120 oxen to Germany as a peace deal. 120 Idiots, by German director and multimedia artist Eva Schubert, is inspired by this myth and is part of a Czech-German collaboration between Theatre X10 and independent Leipzig-based theatre Schaubühne Lindenfels. I was curious to find out more about this legend of St. Wenceslas, which the program for the performance noted was linked to the origins of Czech statehood and to complex interpretations of Czech-German relations. What would this look like in theatre, I wondered?

Well, when we first walk in, big square speakers on the stage that resemble satellites are perhaps the first signal that what we are in for is slightly (or a lot) out of this world. The thumping, eerie reverbs from these speakers and the moody lighting heighten this otherworldly feeling, and by the time hooded figures walk onto the stage, a dream-like atmosphere is cemented by the attire that the performers wear – a mish mash of glitter jumpsuits, capes, velvet leggings, socks in heels, green feather dresses, a boys school uniform – actually, it’s more like the way a child would dress if left to their own devices. And so that is what this performance begins to remind me of – my toddler, playing in her own made-up world.

 

 

The drama of a child’s world – their ridiculousness, their irrationality, their light-heartedness and their complete seriousness - this is what I thought of as the performers who had walked on in silence, began to speak.

What did they speak of? The words come out fast, earnest, diarrhoea-like, and it spoke of idealism, both political and spiritual. Notable that they did not attempt to separate the two (because in reality they are intertwined).

This Babel was further heightened by the switching between English and Czech by the performers, sometimes mid-way in a sentence.

It was hard to keep up with, yet it was strangely compelling - the performers spoke with a mixture of child-like naivety, silliness and gravity, perhaps reflecting the way that idealism, especially extreme idealism, is a mix of gullibility and ardent fervour.

 

 

Words were referenced to martyrdom, to making a better world, a “call for open borders.” They ran through breathing exercises to release our inhibitions. At various points it felt like the collective rantings of a cult leader, political vanguard or saint. But the only reference to the legend of the 120 oxen was an ox head that was placed at the front of the stage.

Then comes a section of what can only be termed as ‘anti-motivational speak.’ It begins with: “You don’t have to do anything.” Then they list everything from the mundane (you don’t have to make plans, count calories, do summersaults, piss) to the transcendental (you don’t have to say your prayers, think at all), before repeatedly saying again and again, almost like a chant or mantra “You don’t have to do anything.” The speakers beat out a rhythmic bass, the chanting was mildly hypnotising…I felt the words engrave themselves on my body and mind. Then they started to speak of transition, of leaving so peace can prevail for others, for the next generation. I slowly began to understand that what they meant by transition - “on the abyss of change” – was death.

They continue to talk about a famous legend that will be born after they leave, a new myth of their exodus. How 120 brave citizens are willing sacrifices. It dawns on me finally that this performance piece is from the viewpoint of the oxen, from the legend the piece is named after. Oh, I see! And now the sacrificial lambs are debating amongst themselves – one of the characters - a tall man wearing a schoolboy uniform with too short shorts – is the doubting Thomas, does not want to ‘transition’ because “I don’t have it in me to collectively save the world.” He is eventually persuaded by the rest of the group, and then the myth and religious references amp up in the babble – golden calf, ark, Icarus, phoenix, “We used to have idols.”

Freedom is annihilation we discover, as the sacrificial oxen seem to be gearing towards their death. “Detach from everything” we are told, as a big red parachute is blown up and they stand around it, play with the straps, become a part of it, go under it. “The transcendence of the melon” they yell, and then as the build-up continues, they erupt in “So much light!”

It feels like a psyched-up meditation on death, on meeting death – and it feels strangely emotional. A reaching for the transcendent and the divine through the strange and absurd? Are these Holy Fools?

Or a mash-up of YouTube videos by spiritual guides, self-help gurus and empowerment coaches (I should know, I’ve seen a lot of them)?

Perhaps this babble is reflective of our times - the yearning that still exists in our hearts - but in a now stripped-of-religion secular context.

 

 

One of the characters says, “It feels so good when I shake my hand like this” and shakes her whole arm jerkily. This movement reminds me again of my toddler; the free-spirited, awkward and sometimes frankly absurd ways children move as they discover their bodies. This is theatre that is like child’s play – illogical, irrational, absurd. Where different rules apply - as they do when children play or in dreams.

Perhaps these are the only people who can play with idealism – children and theatre performers.

The most striking thing about this piece was the use of speech as a real lifeforce. Motivational speakers embody this power of speech, and so do theatre performances like this. Movement, costume, music and lighting all to a lesser extent - it was mostly speech and breath that created this world, that called us to arms, that spoke the myth into being. Which reminds me of another text... In the beginning, there was the Word.

What did I learn from the performance about Czech statehood and Czech-German relations? Nothing. But it did transport me to another world, to another plane of existence, playfully, absurdly, idiotically.

May Ngo