Newsday, September 2004

In his "Symphonie fantastique" program notes, puppeteer Basil Twist seems to kowtow to the platonic pieties that still underpin much thinking about art. He invokes music as the "purest" form of expression, conveying the "essence of man's soul." (And woman's soul? Well, theologians once debated whether such a thing existed.) Citing abstract painter Wassily Kandinsky, who argued that visual arts should transcend mimesis, Twist asks, "What would an abstract puppet show be?"

"Symphonie fantastique," Twist's underwater extravaganza set to a recording of Hector Berlioz's 1830 score, is his attempt at an answer, though he confesses that the show is not his "absolute purest personal expression."

Whether by design or (as is the postmodern way) unwittingly, "Symphonie fantastique" explodes notions of "purity" and "absolutes." Most obviously, it is an interpretation of Berlioz's work, itself a masterpiece of program music—the antithesis of "absolute" music in that it is supposedly sullied by extramusical associations. Berlioz's program describes visions of an opium-intoxicated artist pining for an unattainable woman and titles the symphony's five movements "Reveries," "A Ball," "A Country Scene," "March to the Scaffold" and "Dream of a Witches' Sabbath."

Twist's gloriously inventive gloss on Berlioz unfolds in a 1,000-gallon tank of water, embedded in a black screen behind a shirred curtain that is raised and lowered the traditional way but sometimes becomes part of the show, shifting in form and color. Behind the screen, puppeteers—some suspended in harnesses—manipulate bits of cloth, lights, feathers and the very water through which these materials dart, twirl and perform their wondrous choreography.

Twist's puppetry both suggests the natural world and highlights its own artifice. Through the magic of lighting and hydraulics, a tangle of Mylar strips first appears to be an oleaginous mass, then melts into something approximating a murky forest, only to morph into an icy, shimmering wonderland. During the "Witches' Sabbath," which recycles motifs from the previous movements, these same tinselly clumps go unceremoniously splat against the "fourth wall" that divides the audience from the underwater world. In fact, the choicest seats for this revival of "Symphonie fantastique" (first seen in 1998 at the HERE Arts Center) are backstage, where one can view the grunt work behind the legerdemain.

The forms and patterns traced by Twist's puppeteers function as a kind of Rorschach test. The graceful, billowy swirl that gambols and pirouettes through "Reveries" but reappears at the end as a monstrous blob against a churning night sky: Does it represent the artist's beloved? The fidgety tubes that populate the "March to the Scaffold" and first appear to be columns of flames, and then whirlpools: Are they a mocking crowd of executioners?

Twist insists that the music and visuals be enjoyed "for what they are," and who's to disagree? Just be sure to see "Symphonie fantastique" and form your own views on the mind-blowing, phantasmagoric fun.

SYMPHONIE FANTASTIQUE. Created by puppeteer Basil Twist, with music by Hector Berlioz. At Dodger Stages, 340 W. 50th St., Manhattan. Tickets: $25-$62. Call 212-239-6200 or visit www.dodgerstages.com. Seen Tuesday.