The Folger Shakespeare Library’s Paster Reading Room, normally not open to the public, is a sight to behold.
Rich wood and shelves upon shelves of rare books surround us as we form two single file lines against the walls of the library. It’s dark but on one side of the room, I notice intricate stained glass above the entryway—it’s Nicola d’Ascenzo’s “Seven Ages of Man” from As You Like It. And a bust of The Bard himself based on the one at his grave Holy Trinity Church in Stratford looks down upon onto a long, elegant table. It looks to be set for a banquet of 40 people or so.
There, we find the stunning Elizabeth Carena who stands holding a book at the foot of the table. She is backlit and trapped in swirls of fabric, like the topper on a wedding cake. The other performers in the ensemble are posing, reading, some on the table, some draped over chairs. The visual is magnificent as they slowly come to life, interacting with each other, the chairs, the books, the banquet table. Suddenly, in one glorious, sensuous moment, Joshua Dutton-Reaver and Marissa Nielsen-Pincus scramble over book, tearing what appear to be pages made of sugar from its contents, ravenously devouring the pieces.
Confection is a new work specifically commissioned by the Folger Shakespeare Library in association with Before ‘Farm to Table’: Early Modern Foodways and Cultures. (Their exhibit First Chefs: Fame and Foodways from Britain to the Americas is also available to view in the waiting area before the performance begins.) The immersive experience is all about “opulence, inequity, and teeny-tiny desserts” as favored by the aristocracy of the late 17th-century. With this new production, the Folger has asked the company to tread into fairly unfamiliar territory. Of the other productions I’ve seen from Third Rail Projects, none thus far have so directly addressed the topics of labor, slavery, and class. Throughout the show, the subtext focuses and then becomes blurry over and over: Where does dessert come from? Who makes it? Who gets to eat it? And who does it belong to?
Joshua Dutton-Reaver, a white male, plays what appears to be a servant or slave throughout Confection. He dresses plainly, sometimes in a brown frock, in contrast to the other characters’ ostentatious coats, wigs, and bright makeup (which doubles as icing and confectioner’s sugar, natch). Dutton-Reaver’s character is continually embarrassed by the other cast members, often forced to take off his clothing or do ridiculous tasks. But he remains mute and timid against this abuse. And we as the audience don’t get to know much more about him, unfortunately.
We also hear a related monologue on the worth of a slave in Barbados using bags of sugar as the base unit of measurement (a speech given by Justin Lynch, an actor hailing from Jamaica, no less). Dutton-Reaver dutifully lifts bags of sugar as Lynch explains the price difference between a male slave and a female slave; it’s jarring and thought-provoking to listen to Lynch’s words while surrounded by tables full of prop macarons, meringues, and layer cakes.
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We’re also treated to the animated Alberto Denis playing a Carmen Miranda-like character with a full fruit headdress, speaking rapid fire. He orders us to bang the table with our utensils and shout how hungry we are, and then pass our plates to our neighbors (and woe to the person who acquires the unlucky red plate). However, the entire scene is conducted in Spanish. I wondered just how many other people around the table caught off-hand phrases like “frutas de colonización,” as Denis presented platters of fake pineapples and mangoes, and snatched away table settings from the unlucky recipient of the dreaded red plate. (Alas, my Spanish is a bit rusty.)
The forty-five minute duration of Confection goes by quickly as the scenes unfold, leaving little time to dig deeper into such weighty topics. Perhaps it was best to tread lightly here given those uninitiated with immersive theatre to begin with? (There was also the famously reserved nature of DC audiences to contend with, a local friend remarked.) Regardless, it’s clear that the mantle of politics fits awkwardly on a collective whose work tends towards the sensory and surreal and and plain old… romantic. Case in point: one most memorable scene involves two performers sharing candy hidden away within the secret compartments in books. These books are passed back and forth via wicker basket lifted down from the reading room balcony, as a sort of silent sugar-filled conversation with a nod to Romeo and Juliet.
And, oh, that reading room. It’s the setting of the beginning of the show and the sumptuous end of the show. Rarely is a dance company given such a historic, heady sandbox to play in. It’s been a while since I’ve seen the entire ensemble of a production move with such abandon, dancing in what is typically a forbidden space. We’re treated to a series of joyful tableaux as the five performers and their shadows flit and dart all around the room to a harpsichord-filled rendition of “Honey, Honey.” If some unevenness and a muddled point of view is the price to pay to have Elizabeth Carena, Marissa Nielsen-Pincus, and Joshua Dutton-Reaver run around a library wearing poofy dresses, perhaps that’s a fair trade.
But despite the show’s charming moments and use of the wonderful Paster and Sedgwick-Bond Reading Rooms, I fear that the forty-five minutes I spent in Confection will fade away far too quickly.
Already, I must admit: I struggle a bit to remember its taste.
Confection continues through March 24. Tickets are mostly sold out, but may become available closer to performance time through the standby line.
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