In some ways I would prefer not to say anything about “L’Effet de Serge,” playing through Sunday at On the Boards (tickets). This latest work from Vivarium Studio plays so much upon your expectations of theater and performance that it’s like a surprise gift, and you wouldn’t want me to pull the wrapping off for you.
On the other hand, description can’t tell you what to expect from the experience–even after reading up on the show beforehand, I didn’t. What I can say is that the show provokes an almost continuous, slightly giddy laughter, even though nothing all that much takes place. If you’re interested in what happens when the artistically serendipitous meets the anthropological, read no more, just go.
Conceived, directed, and designed by Philippe Quesne, it begins with Gaëtan Vourc’h (who plays Serge) acting out the final bit from Vivarium Studio’s last show “D’Après Nature.”
He explains to you, nonchalantly, that that’s what he’s doing in a spacesuit. It’s this droll delivery in the face of the slightly askew that keeps the laughter coming throughout the show.
Serge, it transpires, lives in the apartment you see before you (a rectangular living room, a mauve carpet, a kitchen you can’t see, a ping pong table piled with stuff, sliding glass doors that look out on a “nature” scene–and you begin to understand why Vivarium rhymes with terrarium. On Sundays, he invites people over to enjoy tiny performances (one to three minutes in length), each set to music and gravely introduced by Serge, reading from a program bill.
It’s a show within a show, as much about the reaction of Serge’s audience as his mini-spectacles. We peer in, and interpret their behavior. They seem to really enjoy the shows, and talk animatedly about them afterwards. That’s funny, but why is it funny? When Serge deconstructs a shoe-bombing, why do we laugh?
Vourc’h’s Serge bears a strong resemblance to this emoticon: :-| . More elongated, but that, basically. He keeps conversation to a minimum, but what he does say is nuanced, inflected. When someone tries to conceptually interpret his show, there’s a Gallic nod, the corners of the mouth dipping, eyes up and right–which means, “You can say that and I will acknowledge it, but it’s of little interest to me and I hope you won’t press the point.”
Though they are minimalist (certainly in length), there’s no denying the appeal of Serge’s DIY shows. By themselves, they might remind you of how much money–billions of dollars!–Hollywood spends to entertain audiences with spectacle. Yet here is Serge in his apartment, making things up for free. Is it weird? Do these people have nothing better to do? What draws them? (The drinks and pizza?)
The terrarium frame means, I think, these questions can’t really be answered. We can only watch and guess at what the inhabitants of the Vivarium think and feel. That’s where that endlessly entertaining “What is he doing now?” curiosity comes from, even as Serge eats a few potato chips, watches TV, orders a pizza. By removing a sense of import, Quesne frees you up to simply be there as things happen.