The Midnight Diaries of Catty Wampus

(note: this post is part of the Here Come The Puppets category here at the Midnight Diaries. Be sure to check out the full category for other selections from this spectacular program)

Jim Henson’s voice introduces this clip, part of a performance from Peter Waschinsky. I’d like to take a brief side-step from the puppetry talk to call attention to the statement that “Waschinsky is from the German Democratic Republic; East Germany.” This was 1980, remember. I’m just old enough to remember that it would be years and years before the wall dividing East and West Germany was brought down. Before that point, East Germany and West Germany were two separate countries. It was rare for East Germans to leave the country, and rare for anyone else to enter into it. I am, sadly, pretty ignorant about world politics but it seems very much like the difference between North and South Korea.

I mention this because in my lifetime, my very short lifetime, Germany has been unified once again into one country from the two halves it existed as for so very long. This kind of world change blows my mind, and I find it somewhat inspiring that things this big can still happen in our modern age when we tend to see the world as set in its ways. In my basement sits an atlas that was mine as a child; not only does it include East and West Germany, but the entire U.S.S.R. I’m sure that there are dozens of other changes that have occurred since then–countries have expanded and contracted, have been created and destroyed. ‘Twas ever thus and shall ever be. There’s a kind of hope in that, as I see it.

In any case, back in 1980, this is why Henson says “This was the first time many of us in this country had seen [Waschinsky's] work,” and why he says it with such awe. It was a rare treat. Have a look:

What stands out to me the most in this clip is Waschinsky’s use of timing. He knows exactly when to let an action linger, when to let it pounce, creep, amble, or freeze. Watch when the Leopard appears. He hangs there on his tree branch, looking around for any safe haven from his pursuer. Then he sees the man: the Leopard does a take, and then pulls back in curiosity, hangs there a minute and then pops up quickly to look over the tree to where the hunter might be (or perhaps he’s holding himself face to face with his puppeteer–what wonderful philosophical potential there is in that idea!), and then leaps down from the tree into the Man’s path.

Each action is as long as it needs to be, holds as long as it needs to be held, and each action’s timing is varied enough to feel natural and organic. Add to that the beautiful overlap Waschinsky gives to the Leopard when he leaps from the tree, and I could watch this sequence over and over.

Then, watch how the characters of the Man and Leopard come across merely in the speed of their movements. Though the man is initially startled by the Leopard, he is generally calm and casual about the meeting. He appears world-weary, a bit wise from his age, and accepting of strangers. The Leopard, on the other hand (literally–ha!), is anxious and curious. Each of his gestures is like a running stream of punctuation marks: an exclamation point! a question mark? a question mark? a question mark, an exclamation point! He needs to know if this Man is a threat or a friend.

Even when the man invites the Leopard to join him, the Man’s invitation is calm and friendly while the Leopard’s reaction is quick with just a shade of timidity.

It’s interesting to note that there are times when the Leopard moves somewhat slowly and the Man moves somewhat quickly. We recognize the Leopard’s movements as being mostly very fast–these movements help define his character, and his slow actions give us contrast to add into what we know about him. In the same way, the Man is primarily a slow mover, so the times when he moves quickly catch our attention and help to paint those actions with meaning we get from that contrast.

When we meet the Old Buffalo, we see another world-weary character who moves slowly. But unlike the Man, whose slow movement seems to slow from kindness, the Old Buffalo’s slowness comes from being abused for years of hard labor by men.

Pay particular attention to the silence after he declares “Men are ungrateful. Devour him.” This is a wonderful use of silence. That “Devour him” hangs so heavily in the air. When the Leopard and the Man look at each other, you can feel the question mark between the two of them. “Will this Leopard I have helped truly devour me?” “This man saved me from the hunter. Should I believe the Buffalo, that all men are ungrateful?” Notice how there is a (beautiful) half-second of the Man and the Leopard holding each others’ eyes before the Leopard begins to nod. And don’t we, as an audience, feel the tension of this moment–don’t we want to urge the Leopard to be merciful?

All in that silence, we feel that the Leopard is only slightly leaning towards the Buffalo’s point of view. His nod is slow and tentative; his decision could still turn towards the Man’s favor when the Buffalo pounds through the silence with an even larger question: “Why should you spare him?” And when you recognize that the puppeteer likely has enough control to place his foot softly on the ground, the fact that he disappears the Buffalo with a bass-y “thud” makes the question loom all the more heavily.

Now the Leopard moves very slowly, almost as if he’s been beaten by the heaviness of the question. He was ready to take the Buffalo’s directive, “Devour him”, because he was being told to act. But at the last minute, the Buffalo throws back a question “Why should you spare him?” and this turns the Leopard away from instinct into a more pensive state. He knows why he should spare the Man: the Man saved his life. It’s not an easy decision at all; and all of this is reflected in the Leopard’s slow movement as he crawls on top of the Man’s pack and rests his head to consider things.

I desperately wish I could see more of this performance. I want to see more of this mesmerizing puppetry. I want to know what happens next! Unfortunately, this was as much as the original PBS program showed and so it is all I have to share with you.

Watching each of the characters, it’s very clear how much the contrast of fast and slow actions, of movement and stillness, can give to a performance. It reminds me of Victor Navone’s post about Three Speeds.

I love watching these puppet performances so much. To be honest, I had intended these Here Come The Puppets posts to be merely a 3-part series, this being the third and final part. But I am tempted to revisit other performances from the old PBS special as well, so keep your eyes on this space. There is a very real chance that I will post even more before too long, and I am all too happy to be able to share my thoughts about them. I look forward to yours as well.

Cheers!