Human Puppets Dangling by Strings of Fate

Grace appears purest in that human form which has either no consciousness or an infinite one, that is, in a puppet or in a god.

—Heinrich von Kleist, "On the Marionette Theater"

Hélène Cixous's Tambours sur la digue [Drummers on the dike] reads like a Brecht parable: a Chinese town is on the brink of inundation, and the lords and chancellor must decide which half of the village to sacrifice to the floods. Either the factory and business area north of the wall or the wealthy urban district to the south is on the brink of being washed away; the futures of the strolling marionette-maker and noodle-seller, among thousands of others, are left in the hands of the moneymen and royals who will decide their fate. Director Ariane Mnouchkine and her Théâtre du Soleil compose this dilemma into an epic visual symphony played out by puppets. But instead of simplifying the drama, as in a child's puppet show, or dissolving it into caricature or farce, Mnouchkine's puppets magnify every move and situation.

The "puppets" of Tambours sur la digue are costumed actors, dressed in brightly- colored, swoop-sleeved, angular Bunraku style. Their faces are heavily made-up; white paint erases all features, providing the base for dark, slanted eyebrows. When the puppet-actors enter the stage, they are guided by black-clad puppeteers who manipulate them with hands pressed into the centers of their backs, human arms directing puppet arms. Many of the puppets require two puppeteers, some three, and some need only one. Each movement of the puppet, from a smirk to a leap, seems to emanate entirely from the manipulation by the puppeteer. Entering or leaving, the puppet always faces the audience, often being quickly whipped around a corner on departure, never turning upstage. Completely removed from our sense of human gesture, they are even more presentational than traditional puppets. The puppetry heightens every gesture, from smallest to greatest; a simple head tilt takes on tremendous meaning when four people are required to make it happen.

The puppets render the characters of Tambours larger than if simply played by humans; the characters in this world are not able to act of their own accord. Each blink, turn, and step is left to the control of a band of shadows; this apparent abdication of power by the actor playing the puppet creates a tremendously eerie effect. The population of this city lives in a state of powerlessness; they can do nothing to stop their governors or avert the impending flood. They cannot even move their own bodies. Cixous calls the puppets of Tambours sur la digue "the externalization of the interior puppet which we are." Her puppets are us; her puppeteers are more blatant illustrations of those who live without power. They are not only limited physically; they are even restricted in their speech. Cixous's dialogue is spare; Mnouchkine affirms that "puppets need few words," and she strives to embody Artaud's "pure theater," which celebrates the "director whose creative power eliminates words." The devastation of the story is conveyed through movement, composition, and music.

The puppetry itself is choreographed and precise; because they are puppets, the actors' motions are pared down. Faces are limited in their range of expression. There is no union of actor and role; here the actor is puppet, subject to the control of the puppeteers. Because both the words and the gestures of the puppets are minimal, when they do speak—and especially when they move—the impact is tremendous. The human puppets' gestures embody Artaud's "sense of a new physical language" where actors become "animated hieroglyphs." They are bold and sharp in costume and movement; they leap, somersault, and tiptoe across the stage. These are not dummies manipulated simply by hand or string; these are human puppets, played by humans, operated by humans.

The plot of Cixous's play is straightforward, though enormous in scope. Tambours sur la...