Rezilience ****

We enter the Artbox Fargani Theater at the delightful Thessaloniki Fringe.

Kostas Chatzigeorgiou struts the stage, wearing a striking pink jacket and miming Queen’s Don’t Stop Me Now. In the words of the song, he’s “having a ball”. Sadly, this proves to be short-lived.

Chatzigeorgiou is waiting for the arrival of Niki Axioti, so that their performance can begin. However, she is delayed. Chatzigeorgiou’s exuberant antics are interrupted by the venue manager, Pantelis Bakatselos. He informs everyone of the hold-up, with breezy pronouncements about the show to follow. Chatzigeorgiou is discombobulated, his confusion mirroring that of the audience.

What follows is a series of increasingly inventive attempts to fill the void left by Axioti’s tardiness. Comedy, physical theatre, clowning, puppetry, movement, mime and absurdism all come into play as Chatzigeorgiou strives to keep the show alive. Bakatselos continues to interrupt, with his promises of her arrival increasingly wearing thin.

As the delay stretches on, the predicament takes on an existential dimension. What is the purpose of Chatzigeorgiou’s presence if there is no one to perform with, and no performance to deliver? The prospect of failure looms ever larger, while the performer’s need to be seen becomes increasingly visceral. There is also a clever play on the absence of Niki, whose name evokes the Greek word for victory.

The obvious reference is to Beckett’s Waiting for Godot, in which waiting becomes a metaphor for the human condition and salvation remains perpetually out of reach. Rezilience also draws on themes explored by Chekhov, particularly human aspiration and the promise of future fulfilment. Yet where Chekhov’s protagonists are often passively inactive, paralysed by indecision or inertia, Chatzigeorgiou responds to his predicament with tireless resourcefulness.

He remains doggedly resilient, clinging to the hope that he can deliver a performance, that he will be seen and acknowledged. Perhaps, in doing so, he might even justify his own existence. Returning to Queen’s opening anthem, the question becomes whether he can still “feel alive”.

There are moments when Rezilience threatens to become a little repetitive, but with some additional material and tighter development, there is the makings of a finely honed show here.

Nonetheless, Chatzigeorgiou delivers an engaging and often compelling performance. He makes excellent use of his physicality, while his comic timing is impressive. His gradual descent into mental disintegration is particularly deftly handled. Just as importantly, he is unafraid of silence and stillness, allowing moments of vulnerability and fragility to resonate without the need for comic distraction.

A smartly observed production that finds existential uncertainty in the absurdity of waiting, Rezilience offers a thoughtful exploration of the performer’s need to be seen - and the lengths to which we might go to feel that we matter.