When Paper Cinema presented an early iteration of The Odyssey at Summerhall during the Edinburgh Fringe, it was already obvious that here was a work that could address all ages without sacrificing the mythical depth at the heart of Homer's epic. Being one of the earliest examples of literature, The Odyssey defined the Hero's Journey, the narrative identified by Joseph Campbell and used as a template for far too much contemporary Hollywood drama but also presents a moving romance between the exotic tales of adventure.
As Troy so comprehensively demonstrated, the ancient myths don't always translate into modern idiom: and, as Daisy Bowie-Sell points out in her review, the multiple locations of Odysseus' wanderings don't make for easy staging. Unlike the committee who wrecked The Iliad for Troy, part of Paper Cinema's genius is to use the structure of the original epic poem, updating details but remaining true to the different episodes. Beginning with the anxiety of Odysseus' son - missing his father and angered by the attentions his mother is receiving from competing, greedy suitors, he sets off on a mission to find out what has happened - it neither flinches from the uncompromising brutality of the finale nor forgets that there is a love story driving the action.
Paper Cinema's approach is to project a series of static illustrations, onto a screen above the artists, overlaying each scene with new images. The live music adds to the atmosphere and illustrates the illustrations, but also adds the tension of a live performance: cinema is converted into a process that is worked out in front of the audience, and the sterility of film is elevated into a visceral immediacy.
For The Odyssey, Nicholas Rawling and his team concentrate on simple, black and white images, familiar in style from children's books and using signifiers - the beard for an older man, an energetic enthusiasm for the younger - to ensure that the plot is clearly presented. More metaphorical images - the suitors as wolves - echo Homer's own signature use of simile and draw out the themes of predatory danger, dignity and the different sorts of love.
Far from simply projecting images, Paper Cinema use effects on the screen, sometimes narrowing the focus, moving characters around or just obscuring them with a hand. Deconstructing the mechanics of projection - the team are visible throughout, and watching Rawlings or Irena Stratieva make the images can be as fascinating as the on-screen action - they replace the veneer of film with a rougher edge. Even in this, they are welcoming, cunningly disguising their skill beneath the sort of friendly relaxation often found in work for young people.
Both of Homer's epic poems have something of the quality of a compilation: in The Iliad, there is the inclusion of a catalogue of ships, which doesn't add much to the drama and sits uneasily within the overall arc of Achilles' rage and redemption; The Odyssey can read like a collection of sailors' lies about distant land. Perhaps this is due to the oral tradition that preceded the actual writing of the myths, but Homer's sophisticated use of point of view (many of Odysseus' tales are told by him, casting such doubt on their veracity that Latin poet Ovid would answer that they were excuses for an extended spot of sex tourism), and changes in emphasis - going at one point from the harsh murder of slaves to an erotic reunion - are suitable for Paper Cinema's manipulation of their simple materials.
The real genius of Paper Cinema is to create a genuine all-ages show. Unlike pantomime, which lurches between the childish and the crude, there are no asides to adults but the same scene - say the trip to the underworld, or the beautiful last scene set on the palace roof against the stars - can be read differently by adults and children in different ways. For children, it's a lovely and exciting story: for adults, it grapples with the eternal themes that Homer so elegantly stated - the battle between the need for adventure and home.
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