Let me begin by outlining the terms of this piece. This isn’t quite a review, but rather reflections sparked before and after seeing “The False Word,” concerning the significance of a critic’s perspective and how differently we all view and perceive the same performance. Here’s certainly not an attempt to say that anyone else experienced or observed the play incorrectly.
“The False Word,” staged by the Kvadrifronā theater company, is presented as a documentary hallucination in one act. The impetus for the play came from an audio cassette recorded by Reinis Boters in his childhood, which triggered an “acute false word syndrome” and prompted the author to seek the artistic freedom inherent in childhood, beyond shame and preconceptions about high artistic quality. The reflections of the child captured on the cassette also resonate throughout the performance.
The synopsis notes that the play is “about childhood memories, inherited hallucinations, ingrained shame and an absurd egotrip.” Reinis Boters, the author and performer of the play, was assisted by dramaturgical consultant Austra Litauniece, costume designer Elīna Pērkone, composer Kārlis Josts, lighting designer and technical producer Valters Karlsons, sound operator Aleksandrs Lisovs, and producer Ance Strazda.
Reinis Boters in “The False Word”
Photo: Agnese Zeltiņa
False word syndrome (or imposter syndrome) is the act of doubting one’s abilities and accomplishments, linked to fears of being “exposed” as untalented, insufficiently intelligent, or otherwise unsuitable for the image others hold of this “false word,” and procrastinating because of the belief that others are better. Boters doesn’t directly reference this psychological phenomenon in the play, but through his desire to revive the identity he possessed as a child, he highlights self-doubt and a desire to “scrape away” something inauthentic from himself to find the little person who made the recording—if that’s even possible.
A solo performance is a tough task for an actor, perhaps comparable to a basketball game where the actor plays one-on-one against all the audience members on a court where you’re used to having teammates. Boters has made the task even more complex by choosing to be the director as well.
Even as already courageous, it’s even bolder to bring one’s personal vulnerability to the stage.
Those who have never stepped onto a stage cannot imagine how difficult it can be simply to walk across it or stand facing the audience in silence.
In the play, Boters spends a considerable amount of time simply standing, simply sitting, simply looking with the audience at his memory projections. And then, slowly and deliberately, he reveals his vulnerability.
Henrieta Verhoustinska compares Boters’ performance to Treplev from Chekhov’s “The Seagull,” who strove to invent new forms. This comparison is puzzling to me, as I don’t see such ambition either in the announcement or in the play itself. Boters told Latvian Radio that he tried to limit himself less and play, allowing himself to be silly and unrefined. The rise of solo performance pieces reflects a broader trend in theater toward intimate, autobiographical storytelling.
The play is constructed like a collage, but the dramaturgy is crafted in such a way that the fragmentation doesn’t hinder comprehension and isn’t self-serving. The authors have developed it very cleverly, even mathematically, composing every detail so that it resonates with the audience, rhythmically or conceptually, either shaking up or supporting the existing flow of the play.
Reinis Boters in “The False Word”
Photo: Agnese Zeltiņa
In Boters’ stage language, I observe a commitment to minimalism, deliberate limitations, and an “imperfect” space that isn’t aestheticized but is functional and contains just enough meaning to serve the experience. Video appears frequently in contemporary theater productions—in projections, live camera feeds, and the latest generation of screens. In contrast, Boters demonstrates unprofessional or stock footage on a stained tablecloth (this is not accidental), where the projection finally seems justified to me, rather than simply impressive. The play’s soundtrack is composed of recordings from the aforementioned cassette, synthetically created ambience, a bit of dance music, and a beautiful ballad, which once again defines the rules of the play, where the documentary blends with the newly created.
The laconicism of the space and the unhurried (but not boring, in my experience) pace allow the audience to switch between Boters’ experience and their own, to find common ground or discern differences.
This also means that this isn’t a play you can comfortably watch without engaging your own inner world.
The principle of taking something from one’s emotional experience and using it as a springboard for creative work isn’t unusual, but if I have to compare “The False Word” to something, it’s not easy to find a worthy “colleague.” Though built in a completely different style and form, I think it resonated in the same emotional zone as Kate Krolles and Walter Sīlis’ 2020 production “Looks Like You’re Dying,” created at Dirty Deal Teatro. Both plays share a desire to give stage space to self-reflection, rather than reveal a specific and clear narrative or problem to the audience, and a willingness to surrender to an artistic research laboratory. Some might object that such personal psychological conflicts should be resolved in a therapist’s office, not performed in a theater, but it’s precisely this palpable, but not always verbally describable zone that, in my opinion, powerfully influences artistic thinking and lends itself to bold experiments.
Returning to critics, we didn’t watch quite the same play, as some of the play’s video material is created anew on the day of the performance from fresh footage, with the author inviting random passersby in the park to film his amateur tricks in parkour and street gymnastics. Rozentāls’ review states that these scenes “have nothing to do with who Reinis Boters is as a person in everyday life,” while Boters himself admits that this is where his ego dies. It’s an artistically courageous decision to hand over part of the play to a randomly met person.
In the performance I saw, this choice was a victory in one instance, as the “operator” met in the park enthusiastically commented on and encouraged Boters’ infantile attempts at parkour, while the other video ended without beginning, as the addressed lady didn’t film most of the actor’s actions.
Is “The False Word” something new and unseen? No. Was it intended to be something new and unseen? I don’t think so. Is “The False Word” a permission to not make a “normal” play? Perhaps, but it’s certainly tame enough not to call it experimental.
Whereas my experience of the play doesn’t align with Verhoustinska’s and Rozentāls’ assessments, and however much I’d like to be an advocate for the play, it doesn’t seem necessary. Each of us watches a play with our own brought context and expectations. In this case, perhaps it was significant in my viewing experience that Boters and I are the same age or that our personalities are such that we found ourselves in the theater at some point in our lives, and therefore share some similar experiences.
I really wanted to write this piece as an example that even professional viewers can experience the same play differently, and to give “The False Word” a chance in the minds of theatergoers who tend to choose a play to attend based on available reviews.
