A_Billion_Nights95

Existence is Extraordinary

Janna Meiring

Every now and again, adults need a little reminder that life is extraordinary and magical. In A Billion Nights on Earth, theatre director Thaddeus Phillips and visual artist Steven Dufala tell a tale of wonder through immense object theatre and shadow play to inspire adult and child alike. As this allegory shows, there is a world where only the child knows how to survive because adults have lost the natural instinct. At the heart of human evolution over a billion years—through ice, sea, land, and space—is creativity.

In the first few minutes, we meet father and son and all the elements around which this child’s imagination revolves: a rocket, a whale, a wooden ship, and a telescope. In a child’s experience, there is space and time to submerge oneself into the story and life of each thing, to see beyond it as an object. “Dad, the rocket is about to launch!” a kid yells from a slanted roof serving as our stage, with excitement.

As adults, we see the imagination of a child as larger than life. We know there is no real rocket, but for this kid, it is launching. How many times, when you were a child, did you see something extraordinary, only to find the adults didn’t have time to stop and see it too?

As dad falls asleep on his office desk, his son’s voice echoes: “Hoist the sails!” Two stagehands attach ropes to hooks on the edge of the roof and lift, revealing a refrigerator in a haze of fog. This ordinary object becomes a mysterious entryway. The dad steps through, coffee cup in hand, and stumbles, unprepared, into the Ice Age.

This is a dreamscape where child will teach parent, tracing the evolution of land, creatures, and humans all the way into space. They learn to make fire by listening to the sounds of sticks. They submerge into a vast ocean made of fabric. They seek out a broken rocket to fix. They trace steps through the subway system. All in the quest to find a lost stuffed whale.

This piece is full of delicious moments of beauty and awe as the actors interact with innovative stage-crafting, light and sound design. Though I feel a couple of these conventions to be slightly overhanded at times, I ultimately have to remember that I am an adult—my sight is obscured by years of adult-ing. A Billion Nights on Earth is an adult’s lesson in falling out of reality, into the expansiveness of a child’s imagination, in order to remind ourselves how extraordinary this world truly is.

A Billion Nights on Earth, Thaddeus Phillips and Steven Dufala, FringeArts, Sept. 14-17, http://fringearts.com/event/a-billion-nights-on-earth/

Share this article

Janna Meiring

Janna Meiring is a performing artist, improviser, teacher, and writer. The core of her interest lies in the body as site, resource, archive, and connecting-point to all things–tangible and intangible. She is a former writer and editor with thINKingDANCE.

PARTNER CONTENT

Keep Reading

Dances from the Churn

Ankita

Bodies across generations resist being silenced.

A black-and-white photo of two dancers in a brick-walled room. One, masc-presenting, has long curly hair and peeks out at the ceiling, mouth slightly open in expressive thought, one hand bent to touch their forehead, shielding half of their face. The other hand rests against the center of their body. A second dancer stands to their left, mirroring this pose with face tilted all the way to the sky and taut arms.
Photo: Thomas Kay

Possibilities Within Pain

Ankita

Maybe…pain can make one whole.

A white person with curly hair, a beard, and piercing blue eyes shows half of zir face, covering the rest with a red dome shaped hat. Pain au chocolat is stuffed in zir mouth, and zir clothes are bifurcated, much like zir face––half outfitted in red and gold, and the other half in black.
Photo: Janoah Bailin

Search

More results...

Generic selectors
Exact matches only
Search in title
Search in content
Post Type Selectors
Writers
Filter by Categories
.
Book Reviews
Interviews
News
Reviews
thINKpieces
Write Back Atchas