Puppetry is a combination of sculpture, costuming, playwriting, set design, funny voices, and often music. There's been a quiet puppet renaissance around the world in the last 25 years. "Puppet slams"—similar to poetry slams or story slams—are held throughout the country, where puppeteers present short-form pieces to enthused audiences. (Unlike a poetry slam, there's no winner.)
In movies, we see puppetry without recognizing it. We think Yoda is an actual extraterrestrial, that the T. rex in Jurassic Park is a true dinosaur.
Cabot Parsons will demonstrate his skills in "Strange Things I've Shoved My Hand In: The Adult Puppet Theater of Cabot Parsons" at the Howland Cultural Center in Beacon on September 14.
"In America, we hear the word 'puppet,' and we think children," Parsons remarks. This show is different. No one under 14 will be allowed in the theater. (His puppet tales are not obscene, but include adult topics like addiction and depression.)
Parsons works with all types of puppetry: marionettes, rod puppets, cloth creatures, and "naked hand puppets"—just a human finger surmounted by a little Styrofoam ball. "I am a writer; I am a performer; I am a visual artist," Parsons explains. "I not only build my sets, I get to build my actors."
"Strange Things I've Shoved My Hand In" consists of short pieces, each no longer than 10 minutes. Parsons will be joined by Matt Sorenson, who teaches at the University of Connecticut's MFA Puppetry program, one of two in the country. Sorensen will perform with Parsons on "Ne Me Quitte Pas," a romantic tragedy told with socks. Bryce Edwards's Frivolity Hour Tri-OH!, a three-piece group—piano, cornet, and banjo—will provide jazzy interstitial music.
The names of puppets are essential; in a sense, a puppet is its name. (Oscar the Grouch comes to mind.) In "A Difficult Speech," a character named Mrs. Eugenia Difficult, a delegate from the Ladies Intemperance Society of Bogs End, England, delivers a diatribe against summer amusements, culminating in "the darkest art of all: puppetry." At the end of her talk, she notices Parsons manipulating her, and realizes with horror that she herself is a puppet. "My puppets have a lot of existential crises; I'm not sure what that says about me," Parsons reveals with a laugh.
Parsons discovered puppetry as a young boy in El Dorado, Arkansas: "It just captured me! And I was a very shy child. When I was in first grade, I was doing puppet shows for show and tell—I got to perform and I got to hide, at the same time." Since then, Parsons has trained as an actor, and shed his shyness. Now he's visible throughout his puppet performances. The puppet master feels no need to hide beneath a hood or behind a curtain (though he does wear black clothing). "It's like a cooking show," Parsons observes. "You get to see me make the dish."
The show includes three world premieres. For one, "The Mountain: Five Postcards," Parsons gave himself a demanding task: to depict a stoic puppet climbing Mount Everest, with minimal dialogue. Will the mountaineer reach the peak of Everest? To find out, you must see the show. (Parsons refused to tell me.)
"Gemma's Share" is a monologue by a housewife from Mahopac speaking at a 12-step meeting. Gemma falls deeper into despair as she elaborates, finally pulling a handkerchief from her pocketbook to dry her eyes. (The handkerchief attaches to her hand with magnets.)
Audiences are often quite moved by Gemma's confessions. For some reason, it's sometimes easier to identify with a talking sock than with a talking human.
