Few narratives have captured the power of imagination quite like Life of Pi. Ever since the novel’s release, the tale of a man surviving at sea with a Bengal tiger has inspired provocative art that visualized the unthinkable. Along with the prior film adaptation by Ang Lee, this recent staging brings a unique approach that elevates the themes of faith and how, sometimes, the mind can’t help but succumb to the grandeur. For a story that spans harrowing feats on a boat surviving changing weather patterns, it’s incredible to witness the ingenuity on display for the entire running time of this two-act play that captures the heart of the story and, in its own way, manages to restore hope in live theater.
The story begins at an odd time in Pi’s journey. Having survived over 100 days at sea, he has found himself in an asylum awaiting a conversation with the local officials. His story is hard to believe: a fact made more bizarre because he's the sole survivor of a freight ship sinking at sea. Even within the context of its dark origins, Life of Pi manages to find levity where it can as Pi enthusiastically wanders the stage, climbs on the bed, and even convinces his audience how many bananas it takes for a human body to float atop. His eccentric personality is the perfect crux for what’s to come, as he’s both convincing and somewhat unbelievable in how sincere the framework is.
The backdrops never change. Even as Pi’s story unfolds, the digital projections are shown over the asylum windows, as if suggesting a dreamlike connection to the story’s reality. Through the magic of movable props, Pi’s world comes to life as he runs with the spirit of a teenage boy between his family’s zoo and the various locales that surround his India. This may not seem like an impressive feat unto itself, but that’s to ignore the biggest selling point, which is hard to ignore for anyone who picked up the playbill in the lobby or so much as looked at the posters.
Along with the story that moves along a tightrope with thrilling precision, Life of Pi is one of the most prominent contemporary shows to feature puppetry. In theory, it makes sense to have props wander the stage just for the sake of stimulation. However, there is a game unto itself where the efforts of “seeing is believing” must be accepted for the story to work. One can give in to the fantasy and experience a deeper emotional connection to the material. If they do, they’ll overlook the puppeteers holding butterflies on sticks high while actors play various other animals, including hyenas and orangutans. While certain lighting keeps the full awe from fully landing, there is enough commitment to making the animation realistic that it becomes admirable. These aren’t anthropomorphic, at least in the conventional sense. As the story progresses, the audience will see them act in a predictable fashion, sometimes to disturbing levels.
More than the puppetry itself, an element that Life of Pi prides itself on is the special effects that become more prominent once Pi is stuck at sea. The stage itself features many clever tools that make quick transitions between reality and fantasy as fluid as the water beneath his feet. However, when the audience is stuck watching a man at sea, it becomes thrilling to witness the potential for theater to present something greater. Even with mostly digital projections, the water flows with a consistency that sometimes feels overbearing. The lighting is ominous. The sound can become overwhelming as Pi shouts for guidance while his boat risks capsizing. More than that, the stage is so effectively oceanic that even the simple act of characters floating in the sea has a hypnotic effect.
The overall enjoyment of Life of Pi depends on one’s ability to get lost in the perceived magic of Yann Martel’s work. For those who can’t escape the prism of reality, it may at best be a well-produced stage show. There are ways to appreciate craft beyond this level, but it feels like a hindrance to the greater intent. It’s a study of the self and an ability to endure no matter what hardships arise. It’s about believing in miracles and how the world isn’t entirely based on logic. It’s a surprisingly secular story that allows for spiritual elements to not feel isolating, and in doing so, makes certain creative leaps land in sublime fashion. Despite the difficulty, Life of Pi works perfectly with the interiority of its source material. It’s a tale full of deeper conversations that never loses its sense of pacing and, in some ways, becomes more entertaining the further into the abstract it goes.
More than being something that one must witness for the thrill of spectacle, Life of Pi is a show that questions the art of escapism in the first place. Is it possible to live a fulfilling life with parables that may lack traditional reason but hold a sense of humanity? For decades now, Martel’s story has captivated audiences, and it has thankfully translated to various forms with success. In this case, audiences are likely to be so enamored with the Bengal tiger that they may cry walking out of the theater. He was, after all, just a puppet, and yet he came to symbolize so much about being alive. It makes no sense, but only if one chooses not to apply meaning to a somewhat absurd concept.
But that’s faith, isn’t it? While Life of Pi doesn’t presuppose that one religion is better than another (or that the audience must ascribe to any), there is this underlying sense that everyone carries certain unexplainable traits that make the world what it is. It’s the type of thinking that makes this production such a refreshing piece of theater. It should be noted that while a lot of this review emphasized the visual achievements, the entire cast delivers a story worthy of its technique. It's in their willingness to find awe in the way their world moves around them that gives everyone else the go-ahead to get lost in the magic. It’s highly recommended to give it a try.
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