A sadistic gnome tells all
Seaplane Mothership by Hotel Modern is an apocalypse in miniature – a major theme compacted into a puppet-sized set. Hotel Modern and their form of object theatre previously made a great impression on audiences with productions such as The Great War (about the First World War), and Kamp (about the holocaust).
The abstract nature of their work creates a sense of distance from the subject, which heightens the impact of the trimmed back, lucid content. This time Hotel Modern have taken the end of humanity as their theme – and succeeded. To begin, Herman Helle acts out a series of individual scenes whose interconnectedness gradually emerges and becomes clear.
We see a morbidly curious citizen who has taken photographs of himself at car accidents and we see a sadistic gnome giving a demented account of various methods of torture that humans employ. This is followed by a disturbing short film in which ceramic garden gnomes set about destroying cultural treasures: statues are pushed from pedestals; books go up in flames. What starts as the destruction of art culminates in the end of a civilisation, as illustrated by the terrifying series of photos of dead bodies.
Although some of the photos are clearly staged, others might as easily be genuine, such as the fatal domestic accident and the drowning victim. This uncertainty about the veracity of the images provokes confusion and alarm.
There then follows an astonishing live animation film. Helle dexterously manoeuvers a handheld video camera along a futuristic circuit of corridors made by Hotel Modern from removal boxes and found objects. On the screen, this circuit is transformed into the interior of a spaceship.
Onboard is a cross-section of human ‘civilisation’: from a guillotine to a bowling alley and from Mengele to Mozart. When the captain realises that the oxygen is running out he bids a moving farewell to the earth. The sensitive subject matter sees Hotel Modern skirting the perimeter of pathos, and the result is a performance that brings laughter and tears – just like life itself.
31-03-2011
