Jan Fabre Burns New Jersey

Pyromaniacs, rejoice! Flemish theatrical auteur Jan Fabre’s latest extravaganza, Prometheus—Landscape II, now playing at Montclair State, is a collection of conflagrations to satisfy any fire enthusiast’s fancy. This exhilaratingly athletic—and occasionally goofy—romp through Promethean myth unfolds amid the roar of flames, with actors brandishing blowtorches and enormous fire extinguishers. (Don’t worry, they also point out the theater’s emergency exits.)

Wonge Bergmann

A myth gets knotty.

Details

Prometheus—Landscape II
Conceived and directed by Jan Fabre
Alexander Kasser Theater, Montclair State University
1 Normal Avenue, Montclair, New Jersey
973-655-5112, peakperfs.org

Related Content

• Dirty Old Town: A Low-Budget Ode to No-Budget NY
  May 25, 2011
• Gay Republicans! WTF Are They Thinking?
  March 22, 2012
• "What About the Good Things Hitler Did?" Probably Was A Bad Headline Choice By Rutgers Student Newspaper
  April 9, 2012
• Tweets Are Way Too Long, Actually!
  December 19, 2011
• This Week in Food Blogs: BataliGate, Thanksgiving, Robots
  November 11, 2011

More About

• Jan Fabre
• Montclair State University
• Adolf Hitler

Like this Story?

Sign up for the Offstage Voice Newsletter: (Up to multiple times a week) Information on theater and the performing arts.

Privacy Policy Cancel Continue

In the Greek story, Prometheus brings mortals life-sustaining fire—then endures eternal punishment (chains, cliff, carnivorous eagles), courtesy of Zeus. A succession of mythological kibitzers and fellow-sufferers parades by his rocky prison, commiserating and condemning by turns.

Fabre’s Prometheus hangs suspended, limbs splayed, glowering with immortal superiority as a colossal sun blazes onscreen. In this reimagining, the martyr’s gift to humanity is carnal knowledge. The ensemble intones combustion-obsessed love songs—“I’m on Fire,” “Light My Fire”—and one actor tries igniting sparks by rubbing a stick between his fellow performer’s thighs. In a mesmerizing sequence, company members strike matches on their underwear, then extinguish them in their mouths.

Some elements of Fabre’s eclectic concoction are perplexing—a fleeting Hitler reference, a Hare Krishna number. And his prelude’s thoughtful meditations on society’s need for heroes rarely reappear. But Fabre’s forceful imagery, and his company’s titanic feats of endurance, are worth the epic trek to New Jersey.