Deep depression

Monday, 7th September. 10.00 AM.

It is extraordinary to think that Charles Darwin may never have ventured on the Beagle, nor would he have had the opportunity to develop his theory on the origin of species, were it not for the ship’s captain, Robert Fitzroy’s, fear of manic depression.

The Captain’s uncle committed suicide in 1822, so depression was in his blood. What’s more the sea is a notorious protagonist for anyone inclined to morbidity. Captain Stokes, captain of the Beagle before Fitzroy took over in 1828, shot himself while surveying the coast of Argentina, an event that led to Fitzroy taking over temporary command.

Fitzroy’s solution was to have a companion on board whose chief function was to keep his spirits from flagging. This captain’s mate was to be considered an equal, sharing the captain’s cabin, eating at his table, and providing stimulating conversation about nature, the world and creation. This was the job of Charles Darwin on the Beagle’s second voyage around the world.

By any measure he did it well. The two men struck up a fondness for each other that survived Fitzroy’s occasional fits of temper. One day, in March 1831, they clashed over the issue of slavery in Brazil. It resulted in Fitzroy angrily banning Darwin from his cabin….. although he soon withdrew the order once his temper had cooled. The two companions avoided the topic for the rest of the voyage.

Sadly, temperamental volatility got to Fiztroy in the end, although it was many years after Fitzroy and Darwin had gone their separate ways.

Seeing the hugely talented Ashton brothers stage the suicide of Fitzroy on the foredeck last night, under a stormy sky, was a scene I will never forget. Picture the ship’s ropes hanging ominously beneath the foremast sails, one of which is suspended beneath the main sail. It is tied into a noose.

Friso, the group’s guitarist, climbs high up into the rigging. Sarah Darwin, sitting next to me, remarked that he looked like a Greek god with his long hair occasionally being tossed across his beard by the stiff sea-breeze.

Joost, the star of the scene, climbs into a white sheet which is attached by a ship’s rope at the top, ready to hoist him skywards. He wraps himself up into a tight cocoon and then lies down, limp, on the deck.

Long shadows fall from the stage lights. The ship dips, cutting a bright white surf into the sea, as she sails on steadily southwards towards Tenerife.

Camera rolling, Action!

With a clap of Lex’s hands, the scene was cast.

Now the rope begins to pull Joost upwards, until the cocoon is suspended, 15 feet off the ground, swinging in the wind.

The sound of the sails and rigging accompany Frisco’s first faltering notes.

Then out of the cocoon a human hand spreads, slowly at first ….. now an arm appears, reaching, stretching outwards – two arms – then suddenly, with a burst of acrobatic genius, Joost is suspended in mid air. Meanwhile, the sheet has somehow wrapped itself around his legs and arms to form a perfect white crucifix.

Friso jerks into a feverish strumming, Joost wails with the desperate cries of something just being born, but destined too soon to die. The song rises in pitch, with an Islamic flair that defies tonality. Projected images of boiling larvae flows turn the main sails blood red, slowly revealing the haunting image of Captain Fitzroy himself.

Joost bursts into a climactic, high-pitched Bosnian chant: “How can your heart be without mine for a minute, if my soul can’t be without yours for a second?”. Then, with a final jerk, he grabs the rope, and threads his head through the noose. His body falls limp. Swinging.

Friso’s strumming falters, fading into the loneliness of the oceans, leaving behind just the smallness of humanity, the chattering of the rigging and the constant hissing of the surfy seas.
Hans pans his camera away from the leaden body, mopping up the last televisual drippings from the scene.

CUT!

OK – Let’s try that one more time……..

http://www.ashtonbrothers.nl/