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Merlin
Theatre, Frome, July
3rd 2003
Angel Bride
- Review by Pippa
Howell |
| I
don't know what I
expected, but it wasn't
this, Out of the sunlight
into the theatre's
gloom; it takes a
few moments to focus
in the darkness. I
peer down at the stage,
and it's easy to imagine
that some strange
creature has crashed
to earth. A stiffened,
twisted outline -
a skeleton? A shipwreck?
A giant praying Mantis? |
| Then,
as I descend into
the pit, I see wings,
white wings rising
out of debris. And
I hear words. Some
I can't really hear,
only a distant mumble
like some half-forgotten
story. A woman's voice.
Leaves rustling; water
flowing. Fragments,
just enough to know
that she was deliriously
happy - soaring on
the wings of love
- too close to the
sun - losing part
of herself - betrayed
- hearttbroken - desperate.
Her tiara of roses
became a crown of
thorns; her wings
crumpled. This is
like walking into
someone else's dream.
Am I watching, or
participating? |
| On
the stage, the plastic-ruffled
wedding dress, crafted
of commonplace materials,
lies discarded on
a pile of crisp brown
leaves. Bandaged,
string-laced wings
rise awkwardly, as
if they had just fallen
hard from heaven.
Like a cast-off skin,
the broken woman speaks
to her new self. As
a visitor, I share
in her flash of recognition:
one of those life-changing
moments when we encounter
ourselves, and know
that we've moved on. |
| The
angel has become a
phoenix, and found
other ways to fly. |
| Pippa
Howell 2003 |
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