Quiet, Captivating Meditation from Onelight Theatre

Onelight Theatre’s remounted Chess with the Doomsday Machine is a cleansing breath of fresh air. “Developed as an international co-production with artists in Iran and Canada… an original adaptation of Iranian author Habib Ahmadzadeh’s novel of the same name.” Designed, directed and adapted by artistic director Shahin Sayadi, Doomsday is highly theatrical, inventive, and demanding of its audience, and is perhaps the slowest and quietest piece of theatre I have ever experienced. It’s a down-tempo dance, where the silence allows for a physicality that transcends language, requiring active attention and interpretation from its viewer.

Set in Iranian city Abadan after a surprise attack from Iraq in 1980, the play depicts a world where soldiers can march into your disintegrating home at their own will, and you still want your picture taken in front of its ruins when forced to leave. Cats, bonsai trees, and the ritual of washing your hair are of the precious few possessions and rights you have left. Teenagers are in charge of hunting down enemy radars and protecting the civilians who have not fled. The story is a mosaic of events surrounding young Moosa (Drew O’Hara), given one night to find Iraq’s explosive Cymbeline radar, and his encounters with the “misfits” left behind after the attack on Abadan (Theo Pitsiavas , Karen Bassett, Jeff Schwager, and Jessica Brown). The details of these characters and events, and even of what exactly Moosa is looking for, are only as clear as necessary. There is no sweeping monologue of exposition, barely any backstory to behold. In fact the majority of text is in Persian with smatterings of English, and for the most part dialogue-free. 

The details are in the stunning movement backed by powerful projections by Nicholas Bottomley and the music of Kiya Tabassian and the Constantinople ensemble. The silence of Doomsday allows an affinity between this moment in Iran’s history and its current Canadian audience, while its nondescript nature allows us to go further, to connect with the war-torn communities of today that can seem so distant to us. There is something universal in silence and gesture, because there’s room for the audience to unpack their own imagination and interpretations; as poet Sue Goyette says,  silence is hospital to the observer. As corny as this may sound, there were times (an ice cream shop-turned-morgue scene) when I was thinking how lucky I am to be Canadian. To live somewhere that war does not mean child civilian casualties. Though that’s not really fair — to say I was thinking it. I wasn’t being told to ruminate on it like an elementary school Remembrance Day Ceremony. I was feeling it, in the moment. Doomsday is kindling from which our own thoughts can ignite meaning and emotion — while practicing empathy for situations most Canadians have never experienced.

It’s true of most things that their greatest strengths are their greatest weakness, and while I loved the slow pace of the story I found myself craving some tempo-variations here and there. I also had an interesting meditation on the vague nature of Doomsday. I had to let go of my frustration with not knowing the specifics of everyone onstage and transition to going with the flow — letting the journey resonate emotionally and not factually. This is something I claimed to wish for from the theatre in my last post. When actually presented with the challenge, my instinct was to wrestle the form. 

After sleeping on it, I’m quite grateful for such a refreshing opportunity. It’s not often our patience and attention is so called upon from modern plays. Chess with the Doomsday Machine will leave you feeling quietly captivated long after you’ve left the theatre.

The show runs until Feb. 7th at Alderney Landing,  2 Ochterloney Street, Dartmouth.
Tuesday-Saturdays with shows at 7:30
Saturday matinees at 4pm
Two shows Sunday Jan. 25th at 2 and 7:30

For tickets contact:
https://secure.ticketpro.ca/?lang=en#def_10602994
or call 902-425-6812
www.onelighttheatre.com

About the author

Meghan Hubley

Meghan Hubley is a playwright, poet, sometimes student, and brand new mama

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