Review: Tao of Glass – a collaboration by composer Philip Glass and director Phelim McDermott

I say philosophy – you say?

I say spirituality – you say?

Neither of the above are lite subjects, yet they act as the foundations of Tao of Glass; the 2019 show, now with a London première by Phelim McDermott (Improbable theatre company) and Philip Glass.

It’s largely a one-man show for McDermott, supported by three puppeteers, Glass’s music and a small group of musicians. Fundamentally it’s autobiographical, as McDermott takes us from his youth to the present day. Along the way he shares family dynamics, student days and professional highs and lows.

He describes Glass as a mentor of sorts; someone who has been in his life for a long time, be that as a record he listened to, or a collaborator. And I can understand why. Glass’s music has the power to shape emotions and periods in a person’s life. I can’t hear certain Glass works without seeing the New York City Ballet via Jerome Robbins, or Virginia Woolf through the eyes of Stephen Daldry. So I do understand the premise – however, appreciation by the creative and audience member doesn’t guarantee an ideal show experience.

McDermott is a brave maker/performer, and he’s certainly putting himself out there in Tao. We understand his sensitivity as a human/artist, and how the job, or rather calling, can have extreme highs and lows. That said, at times the show lacked pace, direction and accessibility.

By accessibility, I mean extended speeches concerning personal spirituality, drawing on ancient wisdom and individual practice, which, while important to the doer, don’t necessarily hit home in the same way to an outsider. I find walking extremely balancing, but that doesn’t mean I need an audience along for the sojourn, etc.

The show is a collaboration, but Glass isn’t on the road doing all the shows (however, he did star in the Manchester première run). Towards the end of the performance, a piano is wheeled on, and McDermott explains a form of practice in order to reach deep levels of consciousness. He then proceeds to lie down and pretends to be in a coma… and the piano starts to play. It’s one of those clever instruments that can record the musician and then play it back – identically. The person playing is, of course, Glass, executing his own composition. The initial moment is powerful: seeing Glass’s invisible presence playing. But then it goes on and on and on… which, for me, meant it lost that initial impact quite quickly.

The puppeteers do wonders with paper and cellotape, and Soho Place – London’s newest theatre – is indeed an interesting theatre space, with this show in-the-round. Tottenham Court Road can feel like the Mars version of Times Square nowadays; however, I was more than okay with being immersed in it again post-show. I felt I’d done my time.