Raoul

Abbey Theatre, Dublin

RAOUL,AT its simplest, is the story of a man who travels to an icily remote corner of the world to find himself – only to discover that himself would rather not be found.

From its spellbinding opening moments, James Thiérrée’s solo show for Compagnie du Hanneton and Junebug thrums with imagination, combining circus skills, conjuring tricks and theatrical set pieces to follow the exploits of a divided self.

Battling towards a lone shack on a stage so strewn with sails it could be the aftermath of a Shakespearean shipwreck, Thiérrée presents an intrepid figure with a playful mass of grey curls.

As Thiérrée rails his fists against walls of jagged steel pipes to rouse its occupant, the shack disintegrates to reveal its terrified owner. It is James Thiérrée. Now, how did he do that?At times, "spectacular" seems too weak a word for the visual sensation of this international co-production. (The Abbey, one of 10 international partners, gets seven performances for its investment.)

Some sequences are endearingly simple acts of clowning, where Thiérrée’s exquisite, wordless depictions of a man with an unbiddable body – armoured with kitchen utensils, moving (apropos of very little) into a horse impersonation, or whirling like a spinning top – would invite Charlie Chaplin comparisons even if they were unrelated.

The set pieces aspire towards a series of coups de theatre, though – as if one were not enough. As Thiérrée soars and floats while the set flies away in starry clusters, concept and narrative begin to seem equally weightless and once you acclimatise to those dizzying pleasures, you may become jaded by its treats.

Raoulreceives neighbourly visits from a pushy metal fish, a sorrowful jellyfish, a violent scorpion and a benevolent white elephant; each a homespun and fantastical creature designed by Victoria Thiérrée, James's mother.

But, like the show, they feel like a succession rather than a development. The question becomes not “How did he do that?” but “Why?” Thiérrée is at his most moving when hisdreams hold shape, twinned with Thomas Delot’s emotive music to disarm and conjure up meaning.

A supple dance with a mirror acknowledges the audience directly and becomes layered with existential distress (how well do we know ourselves?) while an utterly transfixing sequence, in which he does nothing more than roll his hands in corresponding waves, could map the distance between the body and soul. Such moments are truly marvellous, and Thiérrée’s frenetic performance keeps at bay the suspicion that a piece about fractured identity is in danger of losing its own character.

Until February 26th