Review: Warner Park’s Puppet Show Comparable to Brick in the Face

From the libraries to the cafetoriums, local puppeteers are working to make Nashville the next Puppet Capital of the World. It is even whispered in certain circles that by the time we enter the next decade, our town will be known not for Toby Keith and Dolly Parton, but instead, for its puppets. Far and wide, Nashville will be a mecca where puppet lovers can share their mania for sticking their hands inside dolls and making them talk in funny voices.

With this in mind, I attended opening night, er, day, of our city park’s inaugural foray into the world of puppetdom, in what could only be described as a frenzy of anticipation.

Bravely, the show’s producers used only word-of-mouth during the annual Children’s Picnic to announce their puppeteering debut. With minutes to spare, a young woman walked the park’s ample lawns, loudly proclaiming the upcoming production to a sizable crowd of parents and their young progeny.

”The Puppet Show starts in five minutes!” she intoned with an air of great mystery and importance. “The Puppet Show is starting! It’s happening over there by the trees. Come on, y’all!”

Following a small band of toddlers, I made my way to the stage, a plywood model of minimalism bearing only a rectangular hole covered by a faded curtain. Nearly fainting from excitement and a need to pee, I took my seat on a nearby hay bale and settled in for what was certain to be a stellar performance. It wasn’t long before the star puppets made their entrance onto the stage. I gaped in horror.

The leads were merely two stuffed animals with holes in their nether regions– holes that only the most amateurish hands would deign to invade. I was certain I had seen both of these so-called puppets in the children’s section of Border’s. On sale.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t to be my only disappointment.

“Mmmpfh bladgh em blghh,” the first puppet said.

“Agbhe iggauh fumfh,” the second puppet replied.”Mfiggle mmmphef feh.”

A few small children drew closer to the stage, as did I on my knees. Only by kneeling right in front of the plywood could we make out the puppeteers’ faint voices coming from the other side.

“FMemad recycle trash.”

“Maghe fizzle litter.”

From what I could tell, the first act left much to be desired. Yet the toddlers didn’t seem to mind. Instead, they reached for the fluffy “puppets,” straining to touch them.

Suddenly, a head appeared from behind the curtain.

“Could y’all sit down please? Sit! Right now!”

I leaped back in astonishment from where I crouched among the children. In one shocking moment, the symbolic fourth wall had come crashing down. After extensive research, I now believe this device, first popularized by Bertolt Brecht, was a first in Nashville puppet theater.

But the surprises didn’t end there. Within seconds, an arm, naked of fur or glass eyes, shot out onto the stage, grabbing blindly for young heads and pushing them out of the spotlight.

“You! And you! Sit!” At last, the puppeteer’s face retreated back behind the curtain. Her arm followed shortly thereafter. An adult member of the audience stood.

“They can’t hear you,” she shouted. My brow furrowed. Was this part of the script? I scribbled furiously in my notebook. The puppeteer reappeared to address her audience.

“I! Am doing! The best that I can! Okay?!” The curtain fell.

Although the puppets continued mumbling, the production was effectively over. Much of the audience left. My family and I were among them.

Ultimately, Warner Park’s production of The Puppet Show failed as a modernist experiment in the ongoing chronology of Nashville’s puppet history. Indeed, I cannot say I even know what Warner Park’s The Puppet Show was about. Although I dare not speak for all puppet lovers, this critic advises our park to stick with Butterfly Day Hikes.