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Behind the Scenes of Ljubljana Puppet Theatre
Behind the Scenes of Ljubljana Puppet Theatre
by Alistair Maxwell
Slovenia is a little country with a population of 2.1 million. It sits to the right of Italy, underneath Austria and misses out on almost all access to the Mediterranean by Croatia, which cups its south-eastern border. Ljubljana, Slovenia’s capital, has a calm, pleasant, touristy centre surrounded by long stretches of suburbs, industrial hubs and busy roads. Zooming further in, sitting snugly by the foot of Ljubljana Castle is the Ljubljana Puppet Theatre - a cultural beacon at the heart of the city and community.
The building was constructed in 1889 to bring together various artist groups. It was the brainchild of a Czech architect whose plans were so expensive he was quickly replaced by a local Slovenian architect who was told to rip-off the Czech’s plans and do the whole thing cheaper. Behind the theatre up on the hill of the castle was an old wash house; the Slovenian’s plans involved knocking it down which then flooded the foundations of the new building. By the time they cleaned up the mess and built a far less effective wall to hold the hill back, the cost was far greater than it would have been if they’d just hired the Czech in the first place. It seems that a sense of dramatic irony was built into the theatre’s very foundations.
Construction was a slow, painful process constantly interrupted by the uncovering of Roman artifacts. The area which we now refer to as Ljubljana was once a Roman fort called Emona. So bountiful are the finds that the National Museum of Slovenia is able to dedicate ample space to the piles of bronze jetsam that surfaces each year. So numerous were the finds that at one point during construction, a pile of Roman coins was said to have been found, ignored and poured over with concrete otherwise the building would never have been finished.
But, archaeological sleight of hand aside, the building was eventually finished and home to artists, a fruit and veg shop, an emergency room and the local fire brigade amongst other institutions. Atop the building is a famous watchtower where the firemen would keep watch for any sign of smoke or earthquake. Today, the watchtower is guarded by a sizeable wooden sculpture of Martin Krpan and his trusty mare Kobilica. These figures from Slovenian folklore watch over the city and using the power of animatronics, pop out of their little windows to look over the city, on the hour.
Sharing the top floor inside the building with Martin and Kobilica is the Stage Under the Stars. Originally envisioned as a glass ceilinged venue this immense space is used for thumping, high energy, music-led performances like Fekete Seretlek’s Exit or the more sedate, installation like Sand Pit performed by Ljubljana Puppet Theatre’s own performing company. Unfortunately, the light pollution of the city rendered the idea of a space lit by starlight impossible and it instead functions as a murky, occasionally leaky, semi-reflective ceiling instead.
Downstairs in the heart of the building is the workshop. One puppet takes approximately 150 hours to make. The designing, carving, dressing and painting are all handled by seasoned in-house professionals who inhabit the middle of the building and who, across a series of rooms breathe life into puppets like a small army of Geppettos. These makers came in exceptionally handy when the set for Oligor y Microscopía’s The Melancholy of the Tourist vanished in transit during the Lutke Festival. The in-house team was able to manufacture a perfect replacement in just a few hours and the show could go on. The walls of the workshop are lined with bookcases and shelves and they in turn are filled with screws and tools and masks. Antlers, paints, silhouettes. Pumpkins, machinery, sculptures. Glue, yarn and sketches. It’s as if a school woodwork room and a school art studio have
collided at high speed. There is energy dripping from the walls and the feeling that the elves who make entire populated worlds for the stage, are hiding just around the corner. One room belongs to the most highly skilled professionals, who are tasked with adding the finishing touches to any puppet before they are ready to perform. Most staff have worked in-house honing their skills for 10 to 15 years and it’s a popular place for Fine Art students to have their placement.
One of the more important roles Ljubljana Puppet Theatre plays is as a living archive, storing huge amounts of materials from decades worth of shows. Behind the theatre, up the funicular and tucked inside the castle, is the Puppet Museum. Where many of the stars built in these workshops live in semi-retirement, ready to be called into action should a revival occur. Ljubljana Puppet Theatre has around 700 titles in their repertoire, around 90 of which are regularly played. The puppets rarely rest though. In the museum most aren’t locked in glass cabinets. They are hanging up, strings and all, ready to be operated and played with by any visitor so that the skill of the performer can be appreciated as well as the artistry of the craftspeople.
Outside the workshop is a mural to one of the Ljubljana Puppet Theatre’s most successful shows: Sleepy the Star. This children’s show from the 1950’s was one of the first big hits for the theatre. In later decades the story was recorded on cassette tape and Sleepy became a household name. Her legacy would last but unfortunately she would not. The set, props and Sleepy herself were swallowed in a terrible fire that plunged Slovenia into a period of mourning. Years later Sleepy would be revamped in a different style with different puppets but so central was Sleepy to the lives of the people who had grown up with her, this new, false version was boycotted.
Other stars from the time were more fortunate. Speckles the Ball, a complex spherical puppet now housed in the museum, would play thousands of times. The original puppet performer would play the part for 14 years. Sokka The Mouse premiered in 1986 and has been a much loved success ever since. The tickets to his shows sell out in minutes and he is such a big draw that he sits by the front desk in the Puppet Museum so that he can be the first puppet played with.
Puppet Theatre is central to Slovenian cultural life. Puppetry as an artform is valued in Ljubljana like Shakespeare is in Britain. It’s a constant cultural touchstone never too far from the hearts or minds of the audience. Slovenian puppetry began in 1910, with Milan Klemenčič and his miniature sets. He would perform shows in living rooms to audiences of 20 people. His shows sparked something in the public’s imagination. That fire still burns today. Even Slovenia’s National Theatre can trace it’s roots back to the World War Two partisans who, camping out in forests would sculpt puppets and dress them in old parachutes and uniforms.
On the first floor of the theatre are the St. Jacob’s Stage (Šentjakobski oder), a newly refurbished 200 seater venue that houses everything from La Fille du Laitier’s two person Shakespearean speed-run Macbeth Muet to Michal Svironi’s performance art family drama solo show Carte Blanche. There’s also a smaller, wider space for the more intimate family shows such as Teatro Gioco Vita’s Sonia and Alfredo appropriately called The Small Stage.
Right in centre of the building is the dark, unyielding Grand Stage. It’s high ceilings a holdover from when the Fire Brigade used to park their fire engine there. It still retains its puppet bridge, a high metal walkway from which puppeteers would operate their marionettes like Sleepy the Star. As times moved on tastes developed and puppeteers tend to join their puppets on stage in the centre of the action. No longer are they relegated out of sight. Instead, they inhabit the worlds with the puppets as they breathe life into them. Dotted around the Grand Stage are the dressing rooms, filled with black and white pictures of puppets, performers and performances from ages past.
Past the dressing tooms is an immense door that could pass for a drawbridge. Behind this lie the tunnels. Ljubljana is riddled with Soviet era bomb shelters dating back to Yugoslavian times and earlier. The tunnel beneath the theatre was the main reason that the fruit and veg shop avoided moving out for so long. The long, damp tunnels acted as the perfect refrigeration unit and the building was not solely used by the theatre until 1984. More recently the tunnel venue is used for intense atmospheric shows such as The Melancholy of the Tourist. Owing to the usually chilly temperatures, shows have to limited to around 50 minutes. No one spends longer in the tunnels than they have to. On a recent excavation a listening device was found, probably dating back to the tunnel’s time as a bomb shelter for the Yugoslavian top brass. It was turned off and as of yet, no one has come to ask any questions.
The Ljubljana Puppet Theatre might look like a sedate Wes Anderson set with its whimsical Sokka the Mouse fountain and its charming clocktower, but it is a bustling hive of creativity. Designers, performers and puppeteers flit from venue to workshop to venue like blood flowing through arteries. The workshop is the beating heart of the theatre, the theatre is the beating heart of the city.
