Complicité return to the elegiac sweep of Mnemonic to glorious effect at the National Theatre
“How does memory actually work?”
In 1991, the body of millenia-old Ötzi the iceman is discovered the Tyrolean Alps; in the current day, a woman searches Europe for the father she never knew. Are these connected or competing storylines, or both? Complicité’s Mnemonic explores just that and so much more in this astoundingly good production as it wrestles with some meaty questions about memory, migration and the meaning of life.
There’s layers within layers here too. Mnemonic was first staged 25 years ago and some of the original cast members return here (including Simon McBurney who now directs), their own memories of the show intersecting with this revival, adding to the heavy sense of profundity in the air. As the company probe into all the potential and potholes that come with the act of remembrance, looking forward as much as back, it is hard not to be swept along.
You do need to lean into Complicité’s style, the company of seven fluidly moving between characters, countries and centuries so much scenes blur into one another, reinforcing the monumental and atmospheric sweep of the production. Inevitably, that no longer feels quite as novel as it might once have done but again that’s acknowledged – is it ever safe to examine memories of what one considered perfect theatre productions? The opportunity is right here for some.
For the rest of us, it’s a chance to embrace some gorgeous creative work. The openness of Michael Levine’s versatile set allowing that fluidity, Paul Anderson’s lighting and Christopher Shutt’s sound work conjuring such atmosphere. And Khalid Abdalla and Eileen Walsh stand out in the ensemble, their aching contributions so thoroughly engaging in this endlessly inventive and intriguing show.
