“Tricks to see in the dark”: our critique of the work of Mariana de Althaus

You may not know but Marian of Althaus has just breathed life into the myth of clandestine theater during the pandemic. The theater hegemonic, the one with the black box, closed and, according to the supposed legend, the administrator of a cultural center organized monologues for a handful of theater people despite the illegality. The irony in the testimonies of Alonso Alegría, Denisse Arregui and Vanessa Vizcarra -who appear in a video as if they were post-credit scenes- sows doubt. The question is whether this idea, due to its possible protagonists and versions of classics that were seen on stage, acquires other nuances and survives time.

Furtive works were, for De Althaus, the escape from madness. He confirms it in the autofiction “Tricks to see in the dark”, where it is shown in the body of Alejandra Guerra and emphasizes the torture of existing during the coronavirus pandemic, in confinement and with the absence of the theater. Hence, the staging that is presented in the CC PUCP is full of references to stage classics. It could not be otherwise: she attributes magical and healing powers to the theater -in the climax she sees Anton Chekhov and to herself-; thus it is understood that the absence of it unbalances the world and that the clandestine functions restore the original order. In one hour and 25 minutes, the Peruvian playwright and director pays tribute to the stage, as well as in “All the dreams in the world” (British Theatre)where Chekhov was already present.

The text is disturbing and verbose. The author demonstrates her craft by dispersing elements in the story that only make sense when combined. As the black cat who adopts as a girl; like the dream of a woman who, despite not seeing and fearing terrorism, chases a black cat in 1992; as her first work, “Ephemeral”, which bears the name of the cat that in fiction escapes and leaves its owner stranded, who is already looking for it in the dark; like the frightening darkness that caused him insomnia; like the theater that restores her sleep, and the deadliest year and a half of the coronavirus that eliminates it and envelops Mariana in a darkness that sometimes appears as a witch. The scenic proposal is based on projections of pages from her diary and her pre-recorded voice, and a protagonist whose wardrobe reflects the tedium of confinement by blending into the background.

the performance of Alexandra Warthe one in charge of monologue, It’s fundamental. Of course, its capabilities are nothing new (“The pain”, “the therapist”); only that in “Tricks to see in the dark” he confirms that we should never lose sight of it. Seconds into the montage, she appears in the room, leaves her bag on a chair, and announces that she will become Mariana. At times she will be the actress, others a version of the author of the play.

His bodywork deserves a special mention. De Althaus poses the sleepless nights with Guerra wrapped in a red blanket: thus we see her writhing standing in a corner of the stage, on a chair, until she drops the element and shows herself as crucified. Meanwhile, the attempts to survive the monotony of quarantine are seen when the performer dodges obstacles (stuffed animals, a spray bottle, a pot with a ladle inside, a shoe, a chair, a broom) arranged in a row in the center of the stage. The light games and other visual proposals are successes that take on another dimension thanks to the actress’s display.

In “Tricks to see in the dark”, the Althaus-War tandem shines. It may be that some perceive a certain excess of romance between the character and the theater (and its healing capacity). Perhaps they are right. Does the author resort to magic to ward off verisimilitude and thus protect herself after overflowing and confessing so much in her first autofiction? In a work where the truth abounds, the answer is anecdotal.