Hilary Chaplain’s clown act is much better than the lackluster Piccolo audiences she has to work with. -JC
Send in the Clown
Hilary Chaplain’s show works, despite reluctant audience
By Jennifer Corley
Hilary Chaplain, creator and star of the clown theatre piece A Life in Her Day, pretty much said it in our preview article: her audience is like her partner. And afternoon audiences aren’t usually your most enthusiastic and interactive crowd. This group on Friday afternoon could have been worse, though. There were a couple people who were actively into it. But when your “partner” isn’t as committed as you are, no matter how hard you try, your show isn’t going to be a mighty force. Chaplain does, however, inventively present a lovely and humorous portrait of a person who wants the same thing as everyone else — to be loved.
Chaplain, who primarily trained with famous clown Avner Eisenberg, has a wonderfully charming face and inviting manner. She welcomes people into her topsy-turvy world, where it’s perfectly normal to babysit infants made of paper towels and congratulate a woman on her marriage to an inanimate object.
The show begins with Chaplain snoring away in her upright bed, sawing logs as her dog (a cute puppet which she manipulates very well, with excellent timing) looks on in frustration. Her morning stretches, which are endearing but go on a bit long, lead into her realizing something is amiss and she falls out of bed (her “birth,” if you will) and begins her journey of a day.
She wears a bright red unionsuit with matching slippers, and she has little red spirals weaved into her brunette ringlets. She wears rather enormous fake hips which lend a funny bit of character. She makes creative use of not only the paper towel roll, but a Snowball snack treat and a lamp shade as well.
While pouring a bowl of cereal, out pops a prize: a big diamond ring. Lucky Charms indeed. In a very funny engagement scene, we see her neediness, her desire for love, and Chaplain’s talent for comedy and audience interaction. And it truly is a scene which depends on the willingness of the audience members to participate in her game, which is nothing embarrassing like so many other torturous pieces of theatre.
The ensuing wedding scene is probably the best part of the show, as she does an ingenious and resourceful move to bring her husband to life and give an extra layer of humor to her piece. And it keeps the audience in stitches. She even takes the audience along with her on her imaginary honeymoon, where she gets a bit tipsy and becomes befuddled trying to figure out a bikini bottom.
Like many a respectable honeymoon, hers results in pregnancy. The delivery of her paper towel babies is extremely creative. As she pretends to be a rabbi (bringing two of her ringlets around in front of her ears), she handles a bris quite efficiently.
Her face is amazingly elastic. Aside from the various funny faces that elicit laughs, there are also the more touching expressions she makes that tug at our hearts. Like the one where she acknowledges the end of her marriage — with a simple knowing shrug of a look to the crowd, we empathize with her immediately.
The crowd has to have empathy to interact in a way that a performer wants. The crux of any piece of fringe mime theatre worth its salt is that it takes a while to warm up an audience, but clown shows can’t last too long by nature. So once the performer has the audience in her hands, it’s time to let them go. At least Chaplain doesn’t try to get the audience to hum for her until the latter part of the show.
ALIHD works on two levels, which is good for Chaplain, especially when considering tails in the seats: even though it’s not billed as a kids’ show, kids would surely get a kick out of it. (Chaplain thinks it’s appropriate for children 5 or 6 and up.) And the mature, experienced themes behind her antics will be what stays with the adults when they leave the theatre.
Her character ends her day the way she began it, returning to her upright bed to snooze away. We’re left to know, especially with the title, that she will replay this sort of action tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. It’s beautifully funny and sad, and very human. We all go through these same cycles, and we all mime them, in a way, like Chaplain’s character. Who hasn’t at some point simply gone through the motions and then realized something significant was finished, no matter what the situation may have been? Chaplain’s show, even when her “partner” is a little behind, even when some parts could pick up a bit, is still strong in theme and talent, and one would do well to see a good piece of clown theatre while one can.