From the moment three solemn-faced grown-ups, dressed in black, crawled under one side of a narrow black table on the stage and emerged out the other side facing their audience, as if having walked through a door, it was obvious all would not be as it usually is. The fourth Baboro International Arts Festival for Children, which continues until Sunday, began in Galway on Tuesday with a graceful flourish. Theatre Sans Toit from France presented its version of our universe with Topsy Turvy World. Before a silent theatre audience of three visiting schools, the sun and the moon looked dramatic, although the earth was a funny little place with spindly arms, legs and a tiny head. The planet seemed confused.
Not surprising. A long panel with a painted picture of a town was held upside down. Beautiful blue fish swam in the air above the stage. Part mime, part spoken, the performance consists of a random series of images. The trio work their puppets in a variety of genres. They also avail of a range of sound effects; a growling tiger, a barking dog, a clown, and dialogue with echoes of Punch and Judy. There is a great line spoken: "hurry up slowly." The puppets were colourful. But as Nadia remarked within minutes, "they're more like toys than puppets".
She likes magic and mystery and stories. As a mountain-climbing, pony-riding just-turned-six year-old she is convinced all theatre, dancing and music should take place outdoors, "even if it's raining" - and it was, all day. "Why don't those people wear masks?" she asked. "They look grumpy. They should make costumes. Wouldn't that be more fun?"
The elegant confusion continued. A chicken appeared to get the better of the blue dog, while a cheeky green pony with big, independently-minded hooves sat astride its jockey. Enter father and infant son dolls. Daddy doll is quite smug, confident of teaching his boy. But then Daddy starts crying, can't remember how to walk, and small son wants to read the newspaper Daddy keeps pulling at and tearing. Baby smokes a cigarette. Meanwhile Mama is wailing in the old-fashioned yellow pram. She has very, very long stretchy elastic legs.
Central to the narrative, which is mainly concerned with developing its upside-down theme rather than a particular story, is the struggle of an agitated old man with a sack. He looks a bit like a turkey. Anyhow, he wants the sack in his wheelbarrow; both sack and barrow have other ideas.
The toys and dolls are put away. The sun and moon re-appear while the painted panel of the town is again revealed - this time conventionally, right side up. Nadia enjoyed some of the show, "I loved the fish and the pony and the dog, but it wasn't really a story." It was also a bit too efficient. Nadia's pick of the festival is Can You Whistle Johanna? from Germany's Puppentheater der Stadt Halle. Four marionettes describe a small boy's efforts to acquire a grandfather. With six performances, beginning today at 11.15 am and continuing until Sunday afternoon, this is the show of the festival. Baboro director, Emer McGowan, has chosen well. Teatro Hugo and Ines from Peru, with Short Stories, also appeals as Hugo Suarez tells his tales through mime and puppetry starting tomorrow and through the weekend. Another must is Little Red Kettle's The Four Euclids of Squid and the Festival of Imagination & Wild Fancy (tomorrow and Saturday) in which a cast of children show how three worlds connect. Catherine Aran has a great job - the only "official" storyteller in Wales. Her show, A Tickle and a Tale, runs on Saturday and Sunday.
Back out into Tuesday's rain - "the clouds are crying" said Nadia - we head for St Nicholas's Parochial School. The Abbey Theatre's touring Outreach Educational Programme has introduced two interesting characters to the pupils. Harold and Sophie by Irma Grothuis is the story of two best friends, snails played by Sean Paul O'Rawe and Niki Doherty. Having been frightened out of their garden by a dog, they have sought refuge at the school where the children have helped them build and colour their little houses. At the entrance, a silvery blue ribbon on the floor, the snail trail, leads us to them. Sophie is making a daisy chain; Harold is reading. Fiona, the narrator/facilitator, has a toy cat called Puddles which is sensitive to noise - teachers please note. These workshops are valuable, but it would be better if Baboro took place during the school holidays, when the atmosphere would be less regimented.
As the children enter the hall where the snails are living, the rapport which has developed over the previous few days since the now-settled snails first arrived frightened and confused, is well established. At the suggestion that he bake a cake for Sophie, Harold leaps into action, chef's hat on, flour flying. Sophie makes bubbles, blowing them up in the air towards the high windows. Harold's cake goes into the oven. When it's ready, he seems intent on eating it all. As they play they realise they miss having fun on grass.
It is time to move on to the best garden: the world. This magic place, with its giant flowers, is shown on a video on Harold's television. There is a problem - how to get them there. The snails seem nervous. The children join in telling them to leave the school, go to the river and find the magic boat. This is not as easy as it sounds. The snails need a lot of help. "We'll have to show them the way," whispers Nadia. "They'll get lost." She's worried. It's still raining. But they're game little snails. The children help them pack up their toys and their houses. Their shells are hitched up on their backs, haversack-like, and they're off, with Harold pulling his television behind them. His oven, however, will be sent on.
American Michael Cooper's Masked Marvels and Wonder Tales is as subtle as it is high speed. Think of Spalding Gray crossed with Superman and a talkative wizard and you'll get the picture. There are elements of mime - complete with walking up against invisible walls - lurking under the stories and topical references.
He also speaks directly to his audience. His routines are devised around an amazing array of masks. Having placed a giant baby's head on his own, suddenly he is transformed into a staggering toddler. Off with the head, he's a monkey; then a rooster and a cowboy out in California trying to break a horse. Earlier, as a Ken doll getting ready for a night on the town, he tries on a number of noses hoping to please Barbie. Best of all is the giant one, bigger than many of the watching children. It was impressive - even before it sneezed hugely. "It looks like millions of tiny feathers," said Nadia. "Will he do it again?"
Michael Cooper also told the fable of the boastful Wind and the silent Sun. Best of all was his Giant on stilts. Creating his vast self before our eyes, he began the process by attaching an immense chin to his own. A beautifully tattered giant shirt, waistcoat and trousers followed. Dancing on giant bare tiptoes, "just like a ballerina", said Nadia, the Giant's strange grace proved surprisingly beautiful.
Alert to the educational dimension of the festival, Cooper the performer and parent briefly turned teacher and explained how he makes his masks out of brown paper bags, clay and glue. Praising the life of an artist as one of contentment, making beautiful things, performing and having fun, he left his audience with lots of ideas.
"You can make us stilts when we get home," said Nadia. I was less excited about her plans for our very own gigantic sneezing nose.
Babaro - Galway International Festival for Children continues, with performances and workshops, until Sunday. Booking/information at: 091-566577/ 8.
