‘The Moth’, in its chrysalis form, was a brief affair. A ten minute piece to camera, it was part of a series of short films from Elysium Theatre Company called ‘The Covid-19 Monologues’, filmed under lockdown conditions during the pandemic of 2020-22, and typical of a lot of excellent creative work produced by compulsorily housebound theatre companies and individual actors during that dreadful period in our recent history. Its power lay in its punchy, succinct brevity, and it won multiple awards and international acclaim.
The eclosed creature that has emerged in the form of a play written by Paul Herzberg is, by contrast, a somewhat rambling endeavour that fails to penetrate the consciousness with the same intensity.
The main characters
John Josana, played by Faz Singhateh, is a Cambridge graduated writer and journalist who, with his father, left Africa as a baby, both of them deserted by his mother. His opening monologue ranges extensively (but in too much detail) over a variety of topics, inevitably including racism and apartheid. Despite the almost mind numbing amount of dialogue there are some powerful lines contained within it; he observes that racism was ‘simple in the 80’s but insidious now’, recalls that apartheid had racism ‘enshrined in the constitution’, and remembers his father’s assertion that ‘there’s a time to talk and a time to reach for the baseball bat.’
Afrikaan/Boer Marius Muller, portrayed by Micky Cochrane is the son of a German SS father sent to South Africa. Consequently Marius is raised in that country and, as a young adult, joins the army and serves in Angola. He recounts some of his horrendous experiences, including a horrifically and – literally – visceral description of a mercy killing – one of several elements that are lifted effectively from the original ten minute film production. His PTSD makes him a difficult personality to engage with, and has a strong influence in his relationship with Josana.
The relationship that develops between the two men is formed and underpinned by their similar yet contrasting experiences. The result is a very raw yet somehow respectful engagement. The critical ingredient that seems to be missing is any significant compassion for one another, and this leads to a near fatal denouement.
Creative decisions
Much of the action is set on a train, and projection of the passing world onto a screen that serves cleverly as the train window is a nice device. Projection is used extensively and effectively throughout the production but is somewhat spoiled near the end through a surely accidental introduction of the Netflix logo.
Clearly the intention of this production was to employ the narrative technique of breaching the fourth wall and making the audience feel that they were taking part in the action. However, despite the intimate Live Theatre space lending itself superbly to this device, that was not achieved, mainly because of a barrier of verbosity, and it consequently became increasingly difficult to suspend one’s disbelief.
Though thought provoking, and engaging in parts, this is a rather static production that relies too heavily on the dialogue, of which there is a somewhat preachy surfeit. It is a little too worthy and far too wordy.
Final Verdict
Whilst sometimes spreading its wings in a powerful way ‘The Moth’ appears to have transmogrified into something holding significantly less attraction than its original genesis.
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