The Day the Clown Danced
The “sad clown” archetype is well-worn. Jean Claudio and Raquel Torre’s Memorabilia, presented by Teatro Vista at Filament Theatre, approaches that territory and gracefully avoids the traps of overwrought sentimentality. Memorabilia is a melancholy clown show, equally silly and tender, navigating memory, its gaps, and what draws us back to remembering.
Salvador, a daffy inventor played by Claudio, welcomes the audience into his workshop as he sets about cataloging disparate memories. He’s built a snazzy memory machine, cobbled together out of old TVs, a toaster, and tech detritus to aid his process, deploying various forgotten items (a cape, a mug, a melodica) to take us through his life. However, whenever he gets close to a particular stimulus, he pulls back. There’s something here that hurts too much.
Snatches of boleros, the smell of coffee, and a swatch of fabric pull him back to that difficult memory. He resists until the memory overtakes him, forcing him to dive all the way in, bringing us with him. Claudio’s performance is remarkable as he flows from expert clownery laden with tricks (Salvador is mostly silent) to mellifluous dance sequences. Torre’s direction melds beautifully with Michel Rodríguez Cintra’s choreography, creating theater that is inseparable from its lead character.
Memorabilia’s exploration of the relationship between sense and memory is brilliant, using Satya Chávez’ sound design and score and Conchita Avitia’s lighting design to draw us into Salvador’s shifting cognition. There’s also a lovely unity between projection, props, and set design, which make the most of Filament’s big open space. In Lauren Nichols and Shokie Tseumah’s hands, Salvador’s workshop is homey and inviting, and also a portal into his memory. Overall, Memorabilia’s designs are a masterclass in the line between “just enough” and “too much”.
For all the bells and whistles, Memorabilia is all in the magic trick of Salvador’s story. As he shies away from the pain, you can briefly glimpse the painfully saccharine version of Memorabilia that exists in an alternate dimension. But Claudio and Torre’s restraint is ultimately the most affecting approach. It’s deeply impressive that Memorabilia, a clown show about memory loss, avoids the obvious parts of both its theming and its form. In the end, Memorabilia’s strength is in the balancing act of vulnerability and silliness, and these spinning plates are as miraculous a performance as the show itself.
