Written by Oskar Keogh
Paper and Roses is a dystopian reimagining of Beauty and the Beast in the form of a 90s jukebox musical. Directed by Bianca Rasmussen with an original script by Kimberly Buckle, it’s a play which promises an immersive revolution.
Before entering the theatre space of the Outlore Base, a ticket teller handed theatre goers either a red scrap of fabric or a red paper rose. This classified you as either an elitist “Mint” or a rebellious “Torn”. Two societal factions within the dystopian nation of Provenance, where the action of the play takes place. So the immersion began, and we became implicated in the story before finding our seats.
This instantly brought to mind the famous anti-discrimination exercise created by the American educator Jane Elliot in the 1960s, called ‘Blue eyes/Brown eyes’. She would divide students based on eye colour and treat one group as superior, in order to demonstrate how discrimination is taught. The prospect of being plucked out of the audience for a similar kind of demonstration felt like it was possible, probably even. That at any moment you might become enveloped in the action. There was an air of giddiness in the room.
The audience was encouraged to explore the set freely, so in roving shifts of four or five, people walked about the room and examined props and decorations that filled every corner. It felt like inspecting a crime scene. There were wanted posters for characters we hadn’t met yet, desks and drawers filled with rummaged through documents, and lots of paper. The scrappy craftiness was a delight to behold. All the actors were already militantly in character; there was even someone sketching missing persons flyers next to the bar.
Unfortunately, this is where the intrigue ended. As soon as the production formally started, time began to drag. Sadly, no one was pulled into the action, and the audience remained seated and sedate. The musical numbers were a lopsided juggling act, merging live mic’d performers with recorded backing tracks that created a confusing auditory dissonance. And while the performers' voices were technically on pitch, there were moments that felt like karaoke.
It became increasingly difficult to remember that the production was in some vague way related to Beauty and the Beast. While it was clear that this was a gritty reimagining of something, the plot bore a closer resemblance to what a musical about the abduction of Patty Hearst by the Symbionese Liberation Army might look like. As the plot lurched forward, there were moments of dialogue that felt like they could have been directly plucked from a Young Adult dystopian novel, akin to The Hunger Games or The Maze Runner.
This kind of narrative certainly serves a societal function. At its best, it has the ability to conscientize the youth by presenting an easily digestible class analysis. But what these kinds of stories notoriously avoid are politics that are actually tangible. Without real specificity and situatedness, they become empty allegories. There was something decidedly American about the whole enterprise above and beyond the soundtrack. This took it out of the realm of what could have been a pointedly political South African narrative and into a shroud of vagueness.
And vagueness can be an issue when trying to inspire an audience into action. It can allow for a sublimation of rage, charge, and political dissent into something softer, malleable, and socially acceptable. The kind of solidarity that was performed also held an air of white saviourism. The title character of Belle, a white woman and a “Mint”, gradually became indispensable to the rebellion. She acted as a ‘voice for the voiceless’ in helping carry out a revolution on behalf of a mute band of merry dancers, the “Torn” who had their vocal cords ripped out by the state.
For all its trespasses, there was certainly a groundswell of excitement during moments of the play. It’s just that the storyline and dialogue had nothing to do with it; it was the dancing.
The superb choreography by Nkosinathi Mazwai was electric. The energy & athleticism of the talented young dancers was totally absorbing, and their excitement was infectious. If this energy had been rerouted to a stronger script and clearer narrative, the production might have delivered on its promises.
The show runs from January 8th to February 13th at the Outlore Base.