Nico and the Navigators: ‘The whole Truth about Lies’

The internationally acclaimed ensemble Nico and the Navigators once again present a masterful play with the senses. In their new production, they interweave illusion, irony and postmodern narrative art to create a Gesamtkunstwerk that explores the boundaries of deception and truth. Between breathtaking (dance) acrobatics, sound collages and philosophical dialogues, the troupe makes the audience laugh, marvel - and pause for a moment. But where does the pretence end and the lie begin? An unforgettable evening that will leave the audience enthralled and thought-provoking.

I certainly no longer need to introduce the ensemble Nico and the Navigators, founded in 1998 by Nicola Hümpel and Oliver Proske. It has long been touring internationally, has been nominated several times for important (music) theatre awards, received the Georg Tabori Prize; Nicola Hümpel herself won the Konrad Wolf Prize of the Berlin Academy of the Arts in 2016. But this is theatre.

The fact that Proske and Hümpel keep their eyes and ears focussed on the often immediate present suits him. At the same time, however, they keep an eye on what it feeds on - which artistically leads to a strong syncretism that, like Alfred Schnittke's music, could be called ‘polystylistic’. It owes as much to postmodern narratives as it does to the fun of the audience, to entertainment. The, shall we say, ‘pedagogical’ goal may be realisation, but the audience is constantly fed - not least through virtual techniques that are handled with great playfulness.

People should first of all be amazed, preferably even laugh, even (or especially) when there are conspicuous moments of a brief flinch before realisation - tenths of a second of amazement. ‘And Jonas isn't your son either, by the way,’ the woman reveals to the man. To which he responds dryly: ‘I know, I had a vasactomy.’ The effective trick is that instead of the woman, it is we who feel the small shock; accordingly, the laughter is only offset. Meanwhile she herself, the woman, continues unaffected: ‘Your deep voice is so lulling - an endless sermon.’

Such spoken theatre parts are repeatedly inserted between the action scenes, especially the dance scenes, which bring all too heavy burdens of meaning back into suspension and, with the sound and image collages, realise a continuum that has something to do with Richard Wagner's concept of the Gesamtkunstwerk. The transcendence he strives for, however, is ironically broken throughout; postmodernism is too cool to allow pathos, even if the sensual truth is retained even when, as happens almost throughout, the mechanics of illusion are also demonstrated. The illusory character isn't spoilt by this - our perceptual apparatus (appearance) falls for it.

It sweeps us away completely. Nevertheless, the real art, as distinct from (dance) acrobatics, is to be found in the musical pieces. Basically, they are the heartbeat of every performance, especially where they tear, as it were, or are not disturbed by lecture-like recitations (or dialogues as above), but are repeatedly pulled down to the ground of reality, becoming material, as it were. And thus political.

Here, however, in this new production by the ‘Navigators’ - a venue could not be more fitting for their aesthetic than Berlin's Radialsystem (but its existence → is now also under threat) ... - this time the troupe thematises itself, so to speak: ‘The whole Truth about Lies’ intersects the appearance of any theatre with the concept of lies as a false assertion strategically directed towards a goal. This is not without absurdity insofar as an AI-generated semi-philosophical text, for example, is not a ‘lie’ even if it completely collapses when it is scrutinised a little.

After all, there is no intention; such an intention presupposes consciousness, which machines and their algorithms hardly possess. AI only collects data and weights it according to quantities. Equally, erroneous statements are not lies; case law speaks of ‘good faith’: having acted in good faith excludes fraud. In this respect alone, ‘appearance’ should be separated from ‘lies’ even where their contours overlap.

The play of the troupe does not separate it. Ultimately, it is up to us if we believe the mirror, which is tilted diagonally across the entire width of the stage: In the air, someone is balancing on a white pole, upright, not infrequently in danger of losing their balance; and we see people flying, this too in the mirror. In fact, what we see at the same time is someone lying on the ground performing perfectly rehearsed movements. And the pole in the mirror is nothing other than the strip of toilet paper rolled out in a straight line on the floor.

So we know and yet we don't know. And realise that we wanted to believe the eyes. But only later do we begin to think: are we in need of deception? We are already drawn into the heart of art, which is a true lie - the mentir-vrai of Aragon.

But this is precisely what the Navigators want to ‘question’, i.e. politically criticise. This is what Oliver Proske writes in the programme booklet:

However, the renaming of a familiar illusion as a futuristic technology also illustrates the readiness with which the surface is taken for the depth, the image for the original. In such a world, the lie becomes the truth because it appears more convenient, more accessible and more spectacular. This lie is not harmless; it reflects a society that is increasingly prepared to take surface for substance, appearance for essence (...)

Which is wrong. Lies do not become truth, they are only taken for it. That is a difference, and one wonders very much whether this has ever been different. Doesn't that also seem to be the case? Of course, the instruments of manipulation - including technical ones thanks to AI - have increased. But that is once again quantity, not essence. Nevertheless, the programme booklet goes one better with a travesty of the Christian creed (the original wording of which began the entire performance)

I believe in the lie

The Almighty

The driving force of people on earth

(Are there any elsewhere?)

And in progress

Her natural companion, our star,

Received through insatiable greed,

(...)

Ascended into the future,

He sits at the right hand of the lie,

The almighty mother;

(...)

I believe in false promises, 

The unstoppable growth,

(...)

Slander of the good and eternal evil.

Amen.

Yes, quite terrible, this text; if I had read it before the performance, I would not have sat in the audience. But then I would have missed the grandiose aspect of this evening - namely that the troupe's new piece is completely different from what this agitational political kitsch makes one fear; despite all the virtuosity, especially of the expressive dance (stunning: Yui Kawaguchi) and the instrumentation, I constantly had the feeling that I was moving on the most fragile ground: for example, the recitation form - recitative I would like to call it - is above all one of constant questioning of oneself and others.

Nothing is fixed, little is known for certain. We move through the same, only more elegant, continuum of uncertainties as in our everyday reality. The difference - a striking one, however - is that we enjoy it here. This is how the Navigators turn uncertainties into possibilities, a prerequisite for freedom. That's exactly what almost redeemed us that evening, or at least made it easier. And even if the question still bothered me for days afterwards (who didn't gulp?):

What now? Does ‘input’ now apply instead of ‘inspiration’?

Has Nico and the Navigators not only given us an evening of great pleasure, but a kind of hope - regardless of whether it is an illusion again?