Forces of Nature—Huppert, and One-Upping Nature's Wintry Sky

Isabelle Huppert in Mary Said What She Said. Photo: Lucie Jansch

In Robert Wilson’s production of Mary Said What She Said at NYU Skirball, Isabelle Huppert commands the stage with a 90-minute monologue in French, spoken so rapidly at times that I could barely read the projected English titles. The text (by Darryl Pinckney) recounts Mary Queen of Scots’ life's musings on betrothal, marriage, arrest, imprisonment and exile, and her relationships to the other Marys and men in general. Huppert’s stamina and focus are superhuman and essential to draw us in and hold tight, no simple task in this minimalistic production.

That said, “minimalistic” is misleading when referring to Wilson’s work. We’ve seen him go maximalist in epics such as Einstein on the Beach, Black Rider, Time Rocker, and other ambitious operas with songs, large casts, and multiple dream-like sets. Mary Said is a historically-based, stream-of-consciousness monologue to showcase a 71-year-old star deploying all her powers (plus a silhouette double, seen briefly). Letter to a Man, about Nijinsky’s descent into madness, was a similar tour-de-force featuring another star, Mikhail Baryshnikov, with a blazing lighting scheme and a few striking props, but mainly driven by the physical presence and loaded personality of the performer.

As I write, it's early March, and in the Hudson Valley, a pale pewter cloud bank sits heavily over a luminous white horizon; the sun battling with the remnants of an icy winter. It resembles a version of Wilson's lighting scheme for parts of Mary Said, if dialed way down. Mary Said carries many of the elements that unmistakably mark a Wilson show: the otherworldly Arctic lighting that sears your eyeballs. The hyper formal poses and white pancake makeup. Costumes, often evoking a past (or future) era, immaculately tailored to carve dramatic silhouettes against the light. The frozen, awkwardly articulated poses held for long spells, alternating with frenetic gestures and repetitive pacing. A lone sculpted white shoe popping up on its own little platform, and disappearing just as mysteriously. These all amount to a crash course in Wilson’s microcosm.

Isabelle Huppert in Mary Said What She Said. Photo: Lucie Jansch

At the start, Mary stands stock still in shadow, arms locked in rigid poses, while she begins her recitation. She is a tired soul trapped in a life not of her own choosing, and yet she’s made to bear the consequences of actions she may or may not have caused, including murdering her second husband, Henry Stuart. Outwardly, she appears perfectly poised and groomed. She was as loaded a symbol as could be, Queen of Scots, briefly Queen of France, and yet in the end, simply a woman.

As the monologue unspools, Huppert moves more broadly, venturing downstage in small increments, sussing out her true self buried beneath layers of stiff brocade and make-up. As if possessed, in the denouement she spits out repeated phrases while briskly walking downstage and retracing her steps backward, again and again, in a cathartic rant. (After this frenetic scene, Huppert’s breathing is barely visible—a display of her remarkable training and ability.) Nearing death, her soul is freed from the confines of societal expectations, and yet bound within Jacques Reynaud’s rigid gown and Wilson’s inescapable spotlight, which she can never truly escape.

Mary Said is part of NYU Skirball’s Winter/Spring season under the direction of Jay Wegman. It’s a notably strong, dance-heavy lineup with many participants from abroad. The production has support from Dance Reflections by Van Cleef & Arpels, which has become a major benefactor of the arts in recent seasons.