Review: A Most Unsettling and Possibly Haunted Evening in the Parlour of the Brothers Grimm by Hidden Room Theatre
by Michael Meigs
We had a lovely evening at the Hidden Room last weekend in the company of some of Austin's more whimsical and talented theatre artists. That impossibly long title might suggest more whimsy than one could stomach, but in fact the Evening in the Parlour of the Brothers Grimm was something of a Halloween valentine. Or more precisely, perhaps, a delicate, exciting dark chocolate delight, laced with spices and bitter almonds.
Sweet enough to make you giddy with the fetching, subtle taste of cyanide. . . .
Imagination was rife. This collaboration must have been a labor of love, done for three nights only. Guiding forces were Beth Burns of Hidden Theatre, that gifted refugee from Los Angeles who has become thoroughly Austin; the genial Robert Matney, so familiar in character roles in this town; puppet wizards Connor Hopkins, Caroline Reck and the Trouble Puppet team; musicians masked and led by Jennifer Davis, sorcerer of period music; and the slim, mysterious and exotic Djahari Clark, a bicoastal dancer who leads her own group Desert Sin.
Spectator participants gathered with their passwords at the historic Masonic building on West 7th Street. Those who know Austin theatre received a special shiver of anticipation when they realized that Bernadette Nason was the prim receptionist downstairs. Nason is a clever and personable actress in her own right -- her presence in the downstairs antechamber in itself promised astonishing events upstairs.
Beth Burns admitted spectators to the candle-lit stairway and the hallway upstairs where refreshments were for sale. Also on offer were masks by Davis. Staff in mid-19th-century garb pointed the way to the water closets for those who might need them, then accompanied visitors to yet another intermediary room. Hieronymus the butler -- Connor Hopkins in person -- offered sober words of welcome and instruction. Upon a knock from within, he admitted us to the hidden room itself where Matney as the top hatted, jovial Wilhelm Grimm chortled as he greeted us. At his side stood a line of reserved, attentive household servants.
The illusion was complete.
Matney orchestrated and carried the evening, more of a Dutch uncle than a German folklorist. His was an extraordinary performance, for he immediately established us as his personal guests in his own parlor. He cheerily orchestrated parlor games -- "Poor Pussy!" and mimicking exercises and a quick-moving "hot and cold" search game.
For the final go on the search game, he volunteered to be "it," coming back for a highly amusing round. The strategem played on him appeared totally spontaneous but it must surely have been a set-up. His light-hearted participation, bafflement, and suddenly dawning insight set us laughing. Perhaps he and his colleagues knew that an Austin audience would be immensely game for this sort of participation; his energy and charm were in any case impossible to resist.
Our Wilhelm Grimm expressed light annoyance that his brother Jacob had failed to appear. The evocative pseudo-daguerrotypes by Kimberley Mead published for the event had featured Dennis Kelleher Bailey in that role. I was looking forward to seeing him, for he'd recently turned in a thoughtful, troubled performance in the Sustainable Theatre Project's Dead White Males, one that had resulted in a nomination for Austin's B. Iden Payne stage awards. But he didn't appear, and he didn't appear.
Wilhelm opened up his book and read folktales transcribed by the Grimms, while Connor and the Trouble Puppet crew illustrated those stories in puppetry with intent concentration. In the first of the evening we witnessed a story for which common table objects became characters -- Caroline Reck turned over a silver teapot and suddenly it became a crone warning a naive young girl against the bloody intentions of her prospective bridegroom deep in the woods.
More enactments would follow. The story of a careless merchant, a crushed dog and a vengeful sparrow played out with shadow puppets.
For the folktale about the bird in the juniper tree, Hopkins and assistants Jayme Ramsey and Zac Crofford became that bird -- Connor holding the head and the others guiding the wings, all of them with immense focus.
For a story of temptation and the devil, the company used small, simple table puppets guided by hand-held rods.
Previous to those entertainments Wilhelm invited us to join in other divination games -- augury with broken nuts, fortune telling with a tripartite bowl, and palm reading through a grilled door. We lined up eagerly for the experiences. He called forth an exotic dancer (Djahari Clark) who undulated and moved with a concentration equal to that of the puppeteers. "My brother likes her very much!" Wilhlem called out to us.
During her scimitar dance Wilhelm sat in a high backed chair, brooding while watching her intently. A momentary flash of anger and imprecation passed between them. She fled; Wilhelm became visibly more upset but covered that up with another story. As he progressed through the stories, each of them featuring the grim details of authentic folk imagination horrors, he grew more annoyed and upset at the non-appearance of his brother, until at last he leapt up and excused himself, assuring us that he would quickly return.
We were confused. The rhythm was broken. Thumps resounded from the next room. Hieronymus the butler appeared with the tight-lipped urgency of well-mastered panic and urged us to gather our personal items and to depart. As quickly as possible, if you please. As we filed hurriedly out through the exterior rooms we spotted the dancer cringing, half hidden behind a chair. Wilhelm himself appeared, disappeared, urged us to stay, disappeared again (what was that in his hand??) and the servants kept us moving in quicktime until suddenly we found ourselves downstairs, in the lobby, and then in the quiet night out on the sidewalk.
Hidden Room, Trouble Puppet and friends crafted for us an experience that made us believe, illustrated the hypnotic effects of games and earnest play, and created a fully developed story and through-line. They lifted us out of the Austin evening for a short hour and then sent us spinning back again, with no opportunity to thank the performers or to express our enthusiasm. That feeling of suspension and incompletion will be with us for a long time.
Perhaps until next year?
Review by Georgia Young for austinist.com, October 30
Review by Spike Gillespie on her blog Spike Speaks, October 30
Review by Ryan E. Johnson at austinist.com, October 31
EXTRAS
Here are some more of Kimberley Mead's images of the event.
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A Most Unsettling and Possibly Haunted Evening in the Parlour of the Brothers Grimm
by Hidden Room ensemble
Hidden Room Theatre
