Theatre review: The Parliament of the Birds takes an allegorical journey of enlightenment
At UBC Theatre, avian odyssey alternates the absurd, the abstract, and the philosophical
UBC Theatre’s The Parliament of the Birds is at Frederic Wood Theatre until December 3.
IN A WORLD OF compromise and acquiescence, were one given the opportunity to discover what ails us, and offered a way out of the malaise, would courage triumph over comfort, or would the familiarity of what’s known hold us back? In Guillermo Verdecchia’s The Parliament of the Birds, adapted from Sufi poet Farid ud-Din Attar’s 12th-century poem, such questions are filtered anthropomorphically through a meeting of birds.
A varied flock—a Crow (Sera Jorgensen), Duck (Nicole-Anne Smith), Falcon (Lauren Ordeman), Herald (Christian Billet), Parrot (Peihwen Tai), Pigeon (Air Dayman), and Sparrow (Adriana McKinnon)—is summoned to Conference Room B for reasons unknown. Soon after, the sagely Hoopoe (Kristi McQuade) arrives, laying out the premise of their assembly: the oceans are sick and clouds are dying, a dire threat to their contentment. Convinced they must fly to a king, Simorgh, who lives beyond seven distant valleys, Hoopoe rallies to find enlightenment there, battling skepticism and disbelief in their journey.
Verdecchia’s adaptation of Attar’s work retains the shape of its avian odyssey, but works in contemporary jest and concerns, referencing Douglas Adams and Twitter in the same breath as sand mandalas or the biblical story of Joseph.
Throughout the trip, encounters with the denizens of the valleys they pass through awake aspects of the travelling birds, ranging from the comic and absurd (in the form of a hapless elderly man’s obsession with Alfredo sauce) to the romantic and abstract (a grave digger unable to bury love and desire). As these experiences change the nature and outlook of these itinerant truth-seekers, their characters shift irrevocably, resulting in surprising changes of heart and reversals in faith.
Director Camyar Chaichian bipartitions the play into two distinct areas, unfolding its first act entirely downstage on a bare space backed by scrim, where costume designer Muleba Chailunga’s bright-feathered garments accentuate the acting ensemble’s physicality against a barren background. Later, when the birds land in the valleys, the scrim lifts to reveal a stepped, stone-like crescent, a revolving platform from which addresses and confessions are made. Complementing Jasmine Liu’s scenic constructs, lighting designer Ben Paul saturates the space with enveloping shades of colour at pivotal points, while sound designer Brendan Lowe’s use of handpan and flute permeates the production with a musical mystique.
Like any story of self-actualization, The Parliament of the Birds trades in fundamental inquiries of meaning that transcend its storytelling to relate immediately to the thrust of life. By understanding that we, too, must make difficult choices, enlightenment comes from knowing that fulfilling journeys, real or metaphorical, cannot begin until we do.