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Before Thumbelina

Before Thumbelina - Review

by Alistair Maxwell

Thumbelina is a classic that everyone knows nothing about. Anyone could tell you Thumbelina was a palm-sized person; most could add that she was acquainted with Tom Thumb. But her story is not one that has penetrated culturally. It’s safe to say that although most people know her size, few know her story. In fact, the most famous adaptation of her story was probably the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it scene in Shrek 2 where she gets swept up in a dustpan.

Thankfully no prior reading is required to enjoy Anna Nekrassova’s beautiful non-verbal piece Before Thumbelina. Where Hans Christian Andersen’s begins with a woman planting the barleycorn that will grow into Thumbelina, Before Thumbelina begins with a woman unable to conceive, no matter what she plants.

Nekrassova is an incredibly talented sleight of hand performer yet makes the intelligent decision to put the onus on the narrative of yearning for a child, letting the sleight of hand fill the piece with magic. Pots seem to disappear in her hands, seeds grow into twigs and twigs grow into branches. There are no big distractions - just the natural magnetism of her face, or the wonder of a snippet of poetry and all of a sudden, in one previously infertile pot there is life.

The show is intimate and only 45 minutes. There are moments in which the wonder of the story takes a back seat to the admittedly impressive nature of Nekrassova’s puppet manipulation, small moments of humour when she adds vitamins, supplements, hopes and prayers into her little child-less plant pots. But in a show this tight, where every finger movement feels vital, moments like this feel like a magic trick being repeated once too often.

The Festival Theatre Studio venue also proved to be a choice that took away a lot of the up-close and personal awe of the piece. The set is no larger than Nekrassova’s wingspan, lit by a few sparse bulbs hanging from the ceiling, and behind her, vast nothing. There’s an argument to be made that this is a deliberate choice framing her loneliness and her yearning for a child but when the audience is so staggered, so distant, it feels like an unfortunate barrier. The story is so moving and warm you can almost feel the fireplace and the temptation to sit cross-legged on the floor. Instead, the audience is kept at a safe and sterile distance.

Far from being a cosy fireside fable though, there’s a darkness in this piece closer to Grimm’s Fairy Tales than Walt Disney’s. Eventually the dirt begins to shake, and using her incredible sleight-of-hand again, the plant being begins to grow. Branches, thorny, all of a sudden seem to be emerging from her belly in a stilted haunting way that makes the chest-burster from Alien look like a standard c-section. The once longed for child is terrifying yet captivating. Not the answer to Nekrassova’s prayers but a more complicated beast. But aren’t all people?

Before Thumbelina is an excellent look into infertility, as well as the hopes and fears that go with it. Nekrassova is a captivating performer with talents that conjure up a warm yet eerie world. But much like Thumbelina herself though, it’s difficult to appreciate from a distance.