UK Theatre Network

The air of reverential expectation was almost palpable amongst the audience at the Barbican on Wednesday night for the opening of Peter Brook's latest offering 11 AND 12. In keeping with his tradition of simple staging, the vast canvas was spread out before us - colourful cloths and a few African objects effectively placing us within the setting for the story based on the novel by Malian writer Amandou Hampate Ba, adapted by Marie-Helene. Set in Mali during the French occupation it tells the true tale of the feud that developed over whether an Islamic prayer should be repeated 11 or 12 times and how the reprecussions of this tiny incident develop into bloodshed and controversy.

However, 90 minutes later, the audience are not even aware of it having ended and there is a prolonged delay before one brave soul breaks the silence and applauds and the rest of us as if woken from a trance, join in. There is a reason - the energy of the piece is sermon-like and deadening, the action is almost non-existent and the exploration of the central theme being largely narrated adds a further distancing. The performances are competent but somewhat stiff, the accents of the multicultural cast are heavy and there is no shape or change of pace to the storytelling.

It has a meditative feel, which in some respects is comforting and safe, like the folds of the cloths around the distinguished sages, but watching it as a piece of theatre ultimately makes you feel you are slowly being drugged into a state of catatonic amnesia.

Brook, it seems, is a great admirer of the writer Amandou Hampate Ba and has been wanting to create this piece for 50 years and this feels like his personal homage to him. At its centre is the absurdity of religion and religioius fundamentalism but the piece is full of truisms that take us nowhere new. What we are longing for is a learning or a realising of something new and profound and this offers us neither.

There are moments however, such as the final meeting between the two main spiritual leaders Tierno Bokar and Cherif Hamallal, where the two walk slowly together at the back of the stage in the way of deeply spiritual and actualised beings who are not of this world, that you really do feel you are in the presence of two such leaders. The tempo and feeling is one you would find on a spiritual retreat.

Whether or not this works as a piece of theatre is another matter; or maybe that is the 'experience' that Brook wants us to undergo with this production. It doesn't take us anywhere new or offers new insights, but is a slice of storytelling that does capture at times a true feeling of the essence of spirituality. It is both disappointing yet curious. Sometimes compelling in the beauty of its simplicity of staging and interestingly punctuated by the emotional music of Toshi Tsuchitori and yet at the end you are left wondering if you have missed something or if you have just been expecting too much.