‘The Maestro and The Mosquita’, written by Carmel Winters and presented at the Project Art Centre between 12-15 September as part of the Dublin Fringe Festival defies expectations. The non-verbal, slightly absurdist piece, directed by Muireann Ahern and Stephen Warbeck is set to Warbeck’s stunning orchestral music. The simple story, both tragic and hilarious, is deeply humane and relatable. It explores the significance of an unsatisfactory life we may hate, highlighting , after all, it is and has been our reality for so long.
The show opens with Maestro (Louis Lovett) explaining that it is only female mosquitoes that bite – hence the eponymous Mosquita. While the play is technically non-verbal, the actor communicates with the audience in a series of word-sounding grunts, which, with the aid of music and movement, convey meaning and become comprehensible. While initially provoking peals of laughter among the audience, soon they become the embodiment of frustration, fear and grief.
“Through juxtaposed episodes, differentiated by lighting and music changes, the daily life of a struggling, obsessive artist is portrayed”
At first amused by his Mosquita companion, the Maestro, a once-celebrated conductor, becomes increasingly paranoid as her buzzing fills his nights. Though fascinated by the insect’s music, he cannot focus on his work and suffers infuriating, itching bites. Through juxtaposed episodes, differentiated by lighting and music changes, the daily life of a struggling, obsessive artist is portrayed. The Maestro is exposed as an old, lonely man, trying to revive his talent. Failing to do so, he unwittingly rebuilds his world around his animosity towards the ever-present Mosquita.
“He and the audience, suddenly confronted with silence, have to face the play’s central question – how does one fill the emptiness left behind when the frustrating distractions disappear?”
Only after killing her, does he realise that she was the only constant and tangible aspect of his life. He and the audience, suddenly confronted with silence, have to face the play’s central question – how does one fill the emptiness left behind when the frustrating distractions disappear? After all, they used to provide a sense of action and direction which is now absent.
The set, created by Muireann Ahern and Sarah Jane Shiels, is the perfect backdrop for this humane tragedy. Reminiscent of both a grandiose opera and the humble room of a manic loner, taken from Dostoyevsky, it highlights the Maestro’s sense of confusion. The lighting designed by Síofra Nic Liam, creates new dimensions and spaces on stage, reflecting both the actual and imaginary worlds around the character and blurring the line between them.
Even though the idea behind the plot is quite simple, the performance and execution are truly fascinating. Lovett, who plays both the Maestro and the Mosquita, brings to life a character that is both comic and tragic, pitiful yet deeply relatable. His manner of experiencing emotion is contagious and his struggles – felt by all.
At its core, ‘Maestro’ is a play of emotion – sound, light and especially Lovett’s performance combine to evoke a stirring intensity of feelings. The piece touches on something subconsciously understood by all, rendering words redundant in this humane communion of feeling. ‘Maestro’ constantly involves the audience, both through its slapstick undertones and strong emotional baggage. The performer’s actions demand a reaction, and Lovett never seems to forget that he is performing in, what I would call the ‘tragicomedy’ of human existence.
Lovett’s mesmerising performance makes ‘The Maestro and The Mosquita’ a theatrical experience that resonates long after the curtain falls.
