Behind the scenes at La Perle

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La Perle is the first of its kind in the region. (Photo supplied)
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La Perle is the first of its kind in the region. (Photo supplied)
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La Perle is the first of its kind in the region. (Photo supplied)
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La Perle is the first of its kind in the region. (Photo supplied)
Updated 07 April 2018
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Behind the scenes at La Perle

  • The story behind the acrobatics and daredevilry of the Middle East’s first residential entertainment show
  • La Perle is a remarkable combination of logistics, machinery and human endeavor
DUBAI: Created by Franco Dragone, a legend of showbusiness, La Perle is the first of its kind in the region: A permanent live show performed in a purpose-built theater. It’s a dazzling combination of acrobatics — both aerobic and aquatic; daredevil stunts (including a frankly terrifying ‘wall of death’ tribute by five motorcyclists); eye-catching visual trickery; and cutting-edge technology.
Team leaders describe the show as a baby birthed by Dragone, which they are now looking after and nurturing.
“We are the nannies of the show,” Elisa Petrolo, the head choreographer, said with a laugh. “So we have a certain amount of creative freedom, but the skeleton or structure of the show doesn’t change. Over time though, we have introduced some changes.”
These changes can vary from small details the audience will barely notice —specific movements or the number of people in a scene — to the introduction of new elements requiring the combined efforts of the artistic team, technical team, rigging department, programming, video, lights, and music, which can take up to six months to put together.
The hi-tech theater, while one of the highlights of the show, is also one of the biggest challenges for the team. “The creation came together while the theater was being built. And we wanted to show everything this space could do, so that is certainly challenging,” Petrolo said.
The stage has hydraulic pumps underneath, which allows it to transform from a wet stage, soaked by artificial rain showers from elevated sprinklers, to a dry one within minutes.
The giant mashrabiya-inspired doors suspended from the ceiling — which weigh six tons each — are another highlight, creating instant drama on stage. The control panels for lighting, 3D-projection mapping, and 360-degree sound systems, meanwhile, are like something NASA might have designed, but all are a vital part of the canvas on which the performing artists weave their magic.
The most thrilling aspect of the show, though, is the central pool, from which performers appear — and disappear — as if by magic. A peek into its inner workings reveals that the five-meter deep pool leads to a canal — with breathing stations every 1.5 meters — through which they can enter and exit out of sight of the audience.
The pool is not only a source of amazement for viewers; it has apparently also provided much amusement for the performers. Petrolo recalled an incident during the show’s creation when one of the main characters, Reda — who is dressed in a fat suit, was asked to roll along the ground towards the pool. He obliged, expecting other cast members to improvise and catch him in time. They didn’t.
“Suddenly, there was this big meringue, in his huge king’s costume, floating in the pool,” Petrolo said.
Safety is naturally paramount in shows such as these. All performers are trained divers, and all grips and harnesses are checked and re-checked multiple times before each performance. And, so far, the ambulance that is always on standby has never been required, although the fully equipped first aid center has been called into use a few times, for minor bumps and sprains.
The labyrinthine backstage space is home to a gym, fitness center, and dance studio, and even a fully equipped carpentry studio where most of the props are manufactured.
During non-show hours, there is a relaxed vibe backstage, which has become a second home for team-members (we can only imagine how frenetic it must get during the show, however). Watching the artists rehearse and work out is mesmerizing, as you really get to see the extreme physical rigors of the job, which, during the show, are often masked by all the bells and whistles.
Performers roles are designated according to their individual skills. Age and experience counts for less here than sheer talent.
It’s a lot like a sports team actually. Mornings are typically quite relaxed, and after lunch, the performers start to focus, getting into rehearsal mode; focusing on parts of the show that may need tweaking or improving. Some might choose to work out as well. Next comes the dinner break. And then, it’s show time — five nights a week.
La Perle is a remarkable combination of logistics, machinery and human endeavor. Before the show launched, Dragone described it as a living, breathing entity that is meant to grow from a baby into an adult. Thanks to his talented team, working under his watchful eye, his baby is well on its way to a long and happy life.

FASTFACTS

Did you know?

There are 65 performers in the show from 23 different countries


Musical truth: Palestinian singer Maysa Daw blends the personal with the political

Updated 18 September 2018
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Musical truth: Palestinian singer Maysa Daw blends the personal with the political

  • Maysa Daw is a young Palestinian singer
  • A guitar-driven singer-songwriter, Daw is a bundle of indie energy

DUBAI: Maysa Daw is a hard person to pin down. The young Palestinian singer has been busy dashing from gig to gig, completing an album and preparing to participate in a musical collaboration called the Basel-Ramallah Project, which is due to take place in Switzerland on Oct. 6. When we meet, she is in Chicago, about to go on stage at Palipalooza.

“We’ve been working on our solo show and I’m trying to write a few new songs but time isn’t exactly on my side at the moment,” she said with a laugh. “But writing always comes in-between things, you know. I’m always having these new ideas and I write them down, or new melodies and I write them down. At some point I’ll just gather them together and a lot of things will come from there.”

A guitar-driven singer-songwriter, Daw is a bundle of indie energy. Her live performances are raw and honest, her music a primarily personal reaction to the world around her. As a Palestinian living inside the Green Line, this can sometimes mean a world of conflict and complication.

“I always write about what I’m experiencing, what I’m feeling, or the anger that I’m feeling,” said Daw, whose debut album “Between City Walls” was written while she was living in Jaffa.



“It was a very different world for me. I grew up in Haifa, which is a lot more chill, a lot more relaxed, and suddenly I move to Jaffa and study in Tel Aviv, and everything was so intense. Everything was so new. It produced a lot of stuff. Love songs, break-up songs — political songs, too.

“There’s also one of my favorite songs, “Crazy.” I was so frustrated when I started writing this song. I was thinking of so many things at the time and I just wrote everything down. It’s exactly the way I was feeling, the things that I was asking myself. It talks about religion, it talks about death, it talks about politics — it talks about a lot of things.”

“Between City Walls,” which was released in June last year, may be indie in its sensibilities but its eight songs embrace a variety of sounds, not all of which are musical. Alongside samples of classical Arabic songs and Spanish guitar there are bursts of radio static and live voice recordings of people in the West Bank. As such, reproducing the album on stage, with drummer Issa Khoury and bassist Shadi Awidat, has not been easy.

“We’ve been trying to put material for a five-piece band into a three-piece band,” said Daw. “As such, we’ve been using more electronics and it’s been a very interesting challenge for us. But it’s got us to a place that I’m definitely very happy with.”

Daw is very much a product of Haifa. Born into an artistic family — her father is the actor Salim Dau — she immersed herself in the city’s independent Arabic-music scene, performing at venues such as Kabareet and collaborating with Ministry of Dub-Key, a Galilean group that fuses the sounds of hip-hop and dancehall with traditional Palestinian dabke.

She also recently finished recording an album with Palestinian hip-hop group DAM, who she joined about five years ago. Due to be released early next year, the as-yet-untitled album is her first full-length collaboration with the group. Prior to this, Daw and DAM recorded two tracks together, including the feminism-infused “Who You Are.”

Although Daw’s work gravitates toward the personal, much of it also can be viewed as intrinsically political. The song “Come with Me,” for example, is about two lovers kept apart by the separation wall, while “Radio” features the voices of refugees living in the West Bank. In snippets of their conversations you can hear them talking about the wall, the effects it has on their lives and their desire to tear it down.

“I do talk about politics but only because it’s a big part of my life, whether I want it to be or not. And believe me, I don’t,” she said. “But it is a part of my life.

“I started loving music way before I even understood what politics is. I only wanted to make music but with time I understood more about the responsibility that I could accept to have.”

She paused and corrected herself: “Not exactly a responsibility but a sort of a privilege. I have this voice that I can use and it has the potential to reach a lot of people. It made me realize that I can use this to talk about things that many other people can’t talk about.”

Daw once said that despite the perceived mundanity of everyday events, “everything we do here as Arabs is connected to politics.” As such, there is a vein of resistance running through much of her work. She sings of love under occupation, equality, society and religion, with freedom the ultimate objective.

“A lot of the time I write for the purpose of trying to tell somebody something, or trying to express my opinion about something,” she said. “And sometimes I just feel this thing that’s blocking me, that I need to release in any way, and my way of releasing it is through music.

“Sometimes I release something just for myself. I write it, I turn it into a song and I don’t release it to the world, because sometimes some things are too private. I still do it, I still work on a song and I still do it in a way that I absolutely love the song, yet it will never be heard by anybody else.”

One song on her debut album is sung in English, titled “Live Free.”

“You know, when I started making music and writing my own songs I started writing in English,” she said. “I didn’t feel comfortable doing it in Arabic. And at some point I realized that it was a little bit strange for me, because the whole personality of a person changes when you change language.

“I wanted to start writing in Arabic to see what it would bring, and it brought a very new side of me that I didn’t know. Everything was different: the melodies, the type of words I used, how I built sentences — something just clicked. Arabic feels a lot more like home when writing music.”