Cottonwool Kid: Clown’s up to scratch

Toni Morkel provides a mix of introspection and humour that pulls the curtain aside on childhood anxiety

Childhood, with its constant bombardment of the new, its lack of understanding of self in the midst of a mostly cruel and brutal world in which you have no power, combined with dependence, is rough. Particularly rough if dependent on unhinged parents, which is so often the case. As a parent, I can state that not a one of us is a properly functional, fully balanced self-aware individual.

But there are degrees. Was the generation who became parents in the ‘60s and ‘70s particularly damaged and incapable of nurturing healthy relationships with their offspring? Anecdotal evidence seems to confirm it. We can blame WWII – which the Baby Boomers were either born into, or shortly after, or lived through as infants and toddlers – and the generational trauma it passed down. If in South Africa, add apartheid. The social acceptance of heavy drinking and smoking also didn’t help. In 1985 it was still a society that advertised cane spirits on TV after the news showing white police shooting at black children like it was a good thing.

It is in this milieu of seriously maladjusted adults that CK, the character in Toni Morkel’s new hilarious and sad one-hander Cottonwool Kid, was raised. It is no surprise CK developed some issues.

Morkel is the consummate clown in this, apparently largely autobiographical, play about a child growing up in late ‘60s South Africa. Obsessive Compulsive Behaviour is after all quite funny, when viewed from an objective distance. It’s also okay to laugh if the (former?) sufferer is laughing too. Also, the laughter Morkel draws from her audience is compassionate, which is a rare skill, and one many stand-up comedians could learn. Not that what Morkel does is stand-up. It’s closer to physical theatre with a dose of almost Charlie Chaplinesque slapstick. The first couple of minutes of the play are, with the exception of some onomatopoeia, silent. Combined with her white outfit and white bags on a black stage, it resembles a vintage monochrome Chaplin movie scene.

Once she starts speaking, we are in short succession introduced to the mother, father, and, surprisingly, the dog. A sister also makes an occasional cameo.

Beyond Morkel’s utterly endearing clowning (in the best possible sense), what is so refreshing about Cottonwool Kid is its mix of introspection and humour combined with a contagious forgiveness of self and others. The autobiography never devolves into identity angst and self glorification. Nah, Morkel’s been around the block enough times to hold her trauma at arms length, laugh at herself, and make us laugh with her. And cry a little too. Not about her or the child she was, but because she is able to use the story to twitch the curtain aside for us to glimpse the universality of society’s general indifference to childhood trauma. Which we are. Despite loud protestations, it is astounding just how indifferent we are to the psychological, and often physical, wellbeing of children.

With disarming honesty and appealing awkwardness, Morkel manages, obliquely, to convey this despite what came across as a surprisingly flat performance. Surprising, because she has always emitted a full, round, resonant presence on stage that fills the space. The flatness wasn’t a lack of energy, it wasn’t her voice – although there is a fair amount of deliberate wheezing – and it wasn’t due to the blocking.

I think it was the costume: CK was dressed all in white. Even her props. All white. The only spot of colour was the inside of her hat brim. It meant we could barely see her. Under lights on a black stage, she was all glare. Visually flat. Which translates to physically flat. No shadow, no nuance for the eye, no scale. It’s very difficult to understand how, or why, an experienced and acclaimed director such as Sylvaine Strike, and a superb veteran actor such as Morkel, would make such a rookie error.

It is odd. Yet despite the handicap, Cottonwool Kid was endearing, entertaining, delightful. If we could see past the glare, it would likely be superb. The proof of this is in the last scene, when the lights dim and go yellow and the glare disappears we get to properly see Toni, and it is fantastic.

Cottonwool Kid is back at Theatre Arts in Observatory, Cape Town by popular demand until 27 September. Only two shows left.