For the first three days of September 2004, a group of armed Islamic militants occupied School Number One in Beslan, holding over 1,200 hostages, including 777 children. They were demanding independence for Chechnya and the withdrawal of Russia. The Russian military intervened on the third day, with excessive force, for which it was heavily criticised. Apart from the terrorists, 334 were killed, including 186 children. Us/Them takes a very different look at this tragedy, as seen through the eyes of two children, played by Gytha Parmentier and Roman Van Houtven, under the direction of the author, Carly Wijs, who co-created the work with Thomas Vantuycom.
It all begins innocently enough, with the two children drawing the plan of their school on the ground with chalk, and explaining the layout, laughing and joking. They tell us about their town, how many of what sort of shops are there, and which is best, proudly announcing that they have three supermarkets. They also tell of the people who live over the border, not far away, where the children leave school and go to work when they turn eight, the women all have moustaches, and the men are all paedophiles. The Chechen neighbours have been demonised, the parental prejudices already ingrained in these children. Us and them.
The pair exhibits all of that boundless energy of children, but they do it through some extremely impressive physical theatre, bordering on contemporary dance. At times they talk over one another, trying to be the one to tell the story, to get the attention of the listener, as small children are wont to do. It is almost as though the horror of the siege is unimportant compared to being the storyteller.
They run ropes in all directions around the stage, which has now become the gymnasium, creating a sort of terrifying cat's cradle, representing trip wires, black balloons attached to these ropes representing bombs. They skip around and jump over these ropes, like a game. They tell how a terrorist must keep his foot on a book, beneath which is a button that, should the pressure be released, will explode a bomb. They re-enact the changes that occur every two hours, when other terrorists keep weight on the book as the men change over and take their turns holding down the book. In their telling of the routine, it sounds more like a game that is being played.
They are optimistic. The parents will come, an army of them. They will arrive at any moment. They count down to the time that they expect them. They count again. They count down the number of people still alive. They use the back wall as a blackboard and work out the mathematical division of the small amount of money that they have if it were to be divided amongst the terrorists, because that might be what they want.
It is hot, they have nothing to drink, they are not permitted to go to the toilet, and dehydration begins to cause illusions. She sees a giraffe. We see the full import of the situation through their small observations and stories. There were many damp eyes at the end. Take tissues.
Gytha Parmentier and Roman Van Houtven are sensational as the unnamed girl and boy, unbelievably finding humour in the unfolding nightmare and making us laugh when what we really want to do is rush down, sweep them up, and carry these two tiny tots away from what is happening. Their connection with the audience is instant and intense.
Be sure that this production is one that you see in this Adelaide Festival. It is powerful, moving, and highly relevant, beautifully constructed and performed, and will leave you breathless.
Reviewed by Barry Lenny, Thursday 8th March 2018.