Yves Jacques is virtuosic in The Far Side Of The Moon. He carries the play on his shoulders in a solo act embodying an impressive cast of characters which revolves around two brothers.
One brother is an underachieving philosophy student obsessed with promoting an obscure thesis. He's documenting his life with wry humour for an extraterrestrial audience. The other is a brash TV weatherman whose life is, on the surface, far more successful. Their relationship is a loose allegory for the space race between the US and USSR.
This story is related through video and puppetry sequences. Intended as poetic interludes, these sequences would drag but for Laurie Anderson’s evocative score. Eerily atmospheric, it conveys the majesty and sparseness of space. The set is deceptively simple, but like Jacques, is adaptable and transforms into a series of diverse environments. From apartments to elevators, laundromats and a hotel lobby bar, it is all with an inventive design incorporating minimal props. It's a joy to watch Jacques use the world’s most versatile ironing table in ever more inventive ways.
At two and a half hours, The Far Side of the Moon is a little on the long side, but this does not detract from Jacques' magnificent performance.