An Honest Review of Mirabelle, Revolving

-by one acquaintance of the Housemaiden

After being trapped for nearly a year in a country slowly freezing in time, a play seemed relaxing, especially one put on in the capital of Poteria, and my traveling companion and I pored over the Sirene's schedule. Mirabelle, Revolving leapt out at us--because its rampant popularity has given it a sprawling dominance over the schedule. Kudos to its cast, who have not let themselves be run ragged; the performance we attended was the last of the week and still high-spirited. The actress portraying Mirabelle gives her all to do the woman justice, as Mirabelle gave her all to save her country. None of my criticism should be interpreted as due to a failing on her part.

But I try not to be overly critical, so before that, I would like to also praise the stage crew and the superb technical effects. The sequence in which Mirabelle encounters people she knew, now frozen in time, is tragically beautiful. The Sirene's revolving inner stage is used to show her being overcome by memories coming back to her one after the other, and the subtle shading of the lights shows her succumbing to despair before her companions rally her spirit. My traveling companion was moved to tears. (I do not cry during shows. My Craft type is Paper, but I've been told my heart is Rock.)

I had some acquaintance with Mirabelle, being trapped in Dormont myself as Vaugarde was almost completely frozen; nothing worth bragging over, so I'll spare you the details. I merely know enough to say that the supposed memories weren't entirely accurate, but I do not hold that against the play. To be quite honest, I was shocked that the sentiment was so authentic. Of course, Vallario is well known for crafting emotional scenes. But he had gotten so much wrong about Mirabelle and the other saviors up to that point that a true emotion came as a shock.

To anyone who knew the saviors even briefly, the play is a trainwreck from the first scene. From this point, I will use titles to denote the fictional characters separately from the real people. The play's start is narratively expedient: we open in Jouvente, in the Defenders' headquarters, with the Housemaiden telling the Defenders what happened at Dormont's House of Change and the daunting journey she must undertake to defeat the King, ending with a plea for help. Near all look uneasy and turn her away. She leaves in tears, but then one Defender catches up to her and reassures her that she won't be alone with him by her side. Again, narratively expedient: we see the high stakes and are introduced to the two main leads of the play, our brave but anxious heroine and a sensitive, supportive hero. Were the play entirely fictional, and one in the mood for a romance, it would be a promising beginning.

My traveling companion and I had not been expecting a romance, as Mirabelle and Isabeau are dear friends without the slightest interest in courting each other. We nearly walked out after the Defender had several exchanges with his soon-to-be-ex-colleagues that make it clear his beginning motivation is an intense crush on an emotionally vulnerable woman. It is incredibly disrespectful to the real Isabeau, who left the Defenders to follow Mirabelle because helping others was precisely the reason he had joined in the first place, and to Mirabelle, who did not save her country for others to make wild speculation about her love life. What made my traveling companion and I stomach the insipid romance for the next two hours? Morbid curiosity. And we'd already paid.

When the Traveler is first introduced, Vallario seems to partially redeem himself. Odile is a Ka Buan woman, and she is portrayed without the unfortunate stereotypes about Ka Bue that Poterian plays are prone to. (If you are wondering why Poterian-style plays have never caught on there, the first would be that Ka Bue already has its own rich theater tradition; while starkly different from the Poterian style, a Poterian playwright may find it useful to study for that alone. The second reason Poterian-style plays have never caught on is because the famed Di Cola, much beloved here, is equally reviled there.) The Traveler is not emotionally forthcoming compared to the Vaugardian protagonists, but this is treated as a simple cultural difference tolerated on both sides and not exaggerated into some deceptive tendency. All is well and good until the introduction of the Child.

The Child themself is passable. I prefer the real Boniface, but the real Boniface isn't a young adult who has to pretend to be a preteen. Some more meat to their emotional performances might have been nice, but apparently the script intended them as a prop to the Traveler's emotional arc as she accepts that she will never be a mother.

If Vallario had even suggested to the real Odile that she wanted motherhood, she would likely have laughed in his face and then conspired to burn this script.

It was a struggle to tolerate this play, let alone enjoy it. The best cast cannot save a script that is supposedly based on real people's real struggles and yet has such gaping holes in their characters, filled in with tired cliches. And there was one hole, left unfilled, more baffling than any other.

This play is missing one of the Saviors entirely. Perhaps that is a blessing: Siffrin is fond of Poteria's plays, and also has so much self-consciousness that knowing a caricature of them was on the stage of one might have been a fatal embarrassment. But I question how Vallario felt ready to write Mirabelle's story without even knowing the number of companions who were traveling with her. Once the Child appeared and my own companion and I realized there was not some odd misprint in the program, there was no second Traveler, the absence was keenly felt. Siffrin was a quiet sort, but they still liked to lighten the mood with a pun. They were heroic, with it being well known they lost half their sight protecting one of their companions. They were dear to the others, and absolutely essential to the King's defeat.

This play can only be recommended if you are able to remind yourself that its resemblance to the real Mirabelle's journey is fleeting and would only pass inspection on a new moon night. Vallario is excellent at crafting fiction, but whether he simply rushed to be the first to stage or had dubious sources, he did not get this right. I believe Odile was considering publishing an account of the journey; she might be forced to, now, if others assume a woman can only care about a child because she wants to be a mother.

If Odile had a deadline for returning to Ka Bue, she would be long overdue by now.

Thankfully, the only possible deadline for settling the family estate is her own mortality, and she doesn't plan on passing away anytime soon. It's fine to take extra time so that Mirabelle can enjoy her pilgrimage.

(Odile has been enjoying their travels too, far more than she would have liked traveling alone. She's glad that Mirabelle found the nerves to ask if she could start her pilgrimage by traveling with Odile to Ka Bue--as the elder, Odile really should have been the one to ask, because she hadn't wanted to part ways yet either, but--)

(--but to be honest, Mirabelle wasn't the first person she would have asked to accompany her to Ka Bue. Siffrin, the other Traveler of the group, had seemed more likely. When he suddenly left, she'd lapsed into thinking she'd obviously be making the long journey back alone.)

The start of their journey out of Vaugarde had been heavily delayed, as first they'd needed to arrange for Boniface getting back to their sister, and then Odile had still wanted to check Dormont for a familytale, and they'd heard more and more of issues the gradual freezing had caused, trade routes cut off and farms left untended, among other things, still not completely solved, and every Housemaiden had been asked to help. Euphrasie had made it clear to Mirabelle she was an exception, having already more than done her duty, and Odile had seen that Mirabelle wouldn't forgive herself if she didn't help. So there had been nothing for it except to roll up her sleeves once more and pitch in as well. It was at least very pleasant to get to know Euphrasie and the other Housemaidens better, and satisfying to slowly see Vaugarde recover. More satisfying than finding the Paperasse familytale had been. Her heart had felt so heavy as she turned the pages and looked over the charming stories; her own family was gone, her mother long vanished of her own accord, her father dead, the family estate having no direct heirs when she died herself. And the group she'd been traveling with for nearly a year--well, calling them family sounded so maudlin. Family wasn't necessarily good. But family tended to be close. The group had seemed something precious, close-knit. Then it had unraveled.

Her curiosity. Odile could say the familytale had satisfied that, at least.

Even after leaving Vaugarde took a few months, Odile and Mirabelle meandered through Poteria. Now, they've been staying in the same modest inn room for the past two weeks. It's on the outskirts of the capital, clean but with few conveniences--they still have a ways, after all, so they need to be conservative with their funds. Staying in the capital of Poteria to see plays at world-famous theaters already counts as a luxury, even if certain plays had left something to be desired.

(The deciding factor in their decision to watch a dramatization of their own journey had been the fliers. On most of them the Housemaiden was shown in front, near center, with the Defender standing slightly behind her, gazing at her with his hand clasped on her shoulder in what Mirabelle had innocently thought was reassurance and what Odile should have spotted on sight as a shoehorned romance. Knowing Mirabelle and Isabeau personally had blinded her to what others would make of a man quitting his job to follow a woman. Eugh. But with Housemaiden and Defender so prominent, it was easy to tell who they were, and similarly the Child and the one Traveler standing on different sides of the couple. Which had left the riddle of why Siffrin's portrayal was excluded from the flier: if they only wanted four characters on it, wouldn't it make more sense to exclude a child who really shouldn't have been there to begin with, rather than one of the adults? Were they trying to create a sense of mystery around Siffrin, and if so why? In the end, the only way to know for sure had been to watch the play.)

(The answer, that there was no second Traveler, had been disquieting. The gap in the play echoed the gap in their lives. They know how to get a letter forwarded to Isabeau or Boniface, even if it would take months once they were past Poteria. Things will never be as they had been during the journey, especially for Odile, but she can still know the others are well. But Siffrin, bright hair, light eye, light cloak, had vanished into the night like they'd been a spark of ignis fatuus all along.)

They've seen two other plays since, in between other diversions. The plays were better in that neither left Odile and Mirabelle wanting to hunt down a playwright, even if the third meandered quite a bit. But plays have lost their novelty by now, and while Mirabelle's been investigating the Poterian practice of praising Muses with some curiosity, they'll probably be moving on soon. Odile is surveying a map of the region to judge the best course through Lichtland (a mix of expediency and cultural sights for the both of them would be nice) when Mirabelle bursts back into the room.

"Madame!!"

Odile obliges her by looking up. Mirabelle is certainly worked up about something. Odile can't tell if that expression is excitement or upset, but her clutching a folded newspaper to her chest while making it raises some possibilities. "He responded?"

"He responded, and, and --I can't believe him!" Upset, then. "Read it, Madame!"

Mirabelle practically thrusts the newspaper at her, so yes, Odile supposes she will be reading it now, if only so Mirabelle can vent about whatever was written. Odile knew she was picking a fight with her review and isn't sure it'd be worth carrying on, no matter how vinegary the response is. As long as people are aware that the play's accuracy is questionable, she's done her part; some will want to believe the fantasy anyway, and obviously Vallario has a vested interest in defending it.

But when Odile finds the response, top of the massive theater section, and begins skimming as best she can (Poterian is not too far off from Vaugardian, but it's different enough to slow her down), she's surprised that the tone is more polite than she expected. Defensive, as she expected, but civil. Wordy and weaselly, when Vallario expounds on how an adaptation must always take some liberties, but it's as good as a concession as Odile could have expected. He's not admitting what the liberties were (and Odile still wishes she could have set his script on fire before it saw stage lights), but she described it well enough in her first letter. People will remember--

Then Vallario's defense cuts a new facet.

However, Signore or Signora, I must question the accuracy of your claims. I do not accuse you of knowing deception, but there is some deception afoot here, because I have spoken to a Siffrin--

"What." Odile says it aloud by reflex, squinting at the paper as if she could have possibly mistranslated 'Siffrin', spelled identically by both Poterians and Vaugardians. "What??"

"And he says you're lying?!" Mirabelle fumes, having waited so impatiently for Odile to reach the final paragraph.

No, no, no distractions. Odile has to finish reading this.

--I have spoken to a Siffrin face to face, who talked of the Saviors with much fondness and familiarity, but claimed to have only traveled with them for a brief time. Thus I acknowledge that he is missing from the play as a technicality, but any playwright worth their salt knows that a cast must be pared down to its major players, with as few minor characters as needed. And if you misjudged Siffrin's significance from your brief acquaintance, then what else?--

Poterians, like Vaugardians, largely prefer burial as part of their last rites. Vallario seems his own gravedigger.

--I do not boast to say I am a public figure of some renown, with certain enemies who would rather tear down another's art than elevate their own to match it. I would think the burden of proof lies with you. You of course may make your response public, as you already know the means, but I would welcome private correspondence or even a visit at my residence, if you can provide proof of your acquaintance with the Housemaiden, so that we may have a sincere discussion and discover where the truth lies in this matter. I give you a fortnight before I consider this settled.

Odile would think the burden of proof lies with the man inventing courtships out of whole cloth--or claiming to have met Siffrin, even. But she can see his reasoning, too, that in writing anonymously she's given no proof of knowing Mirabelle herself and would have staked no reputation if she were baselessly maligning the play. And the combination of him claiming to have met Siffrin and asking for further discussion in private is...confusing. What exactly is his game? Are his final words simply a bluff, and he lied about Siffrin to shut Odile's claims down? Odile and Mirabelle could easily call the bluff by revealing themselves, but Vallario wouldn't know that. (Odile also really does not want to do that, but judging by Mirabelle's grumbling, she might be ready to.) But if Vallario is lying, why did he only push back directly on Siffrin's role in the party? He could have easily claimed Siffrin also talked about Isabeau and Mirabelle's courtship (eugh) or how motherly Odile was with Boniface (EUGH).

Could Vallario be genuine in wanting to talk, and again, if so, what to make of his claim about Siffrin? Is someone impersonating Siffrin? It makes no sense. Why impersonate a traveler whose only known reputation is being Savior of a country, then claim you did no such thing? Baffling. So Vallario is likely lying.

But...

who talked of the Saviors with much fondness and familiarity

...considering how the play fumbled Mirabelle and Isabeau in such a major way from the start, it'd been odd how right the Housemaiden had seemed outside of the stupid romance. (The Defender, on the other hand, always felt off to Odile. There were no drinking scenes with the Ka Buan Traveler, and she'd gotten used to Isabeau and Siffrin turning to each other throughout the day like a pair of daft sunblooms mistaking each other for the sun.) The Child had often been relegated to the background in scenes, preparing meals when the adults talked about heavy matters, as if Vallario knew that was a task they usually performed (first as a distraction, yes, but Boniface had become quite good at it). And while Mirabelle had been forthright in telling others that she hadn't actually been Chosen, now that the fate of a country wasn't weighing on everyone, the Housemaiden revealing that truth to her companions right before they fought the King was a very lucky guess.

Unless it wasn't a guess.

Odile stares down at the paper, trying to gauge Vallario's tone more thoroughly--is she missing some nuance?--only vaguely hearing Mirabelle.

"I'll go to the newspaper this time, and I'll set things straight once and for all--"

"Mirabelle," Odile interrupts. "...What are the odds Siffrin would minimize their part in our journey so thoroughly that a stranger might think he'd done nothing of note?"

Mirabelle stares at her for a few seconds.

"You remember how skittish they could be."

"Um? Well--no, but Madame, he wouldn't say those things about us--"

"And Vallario doesn't claim they did. He practically admits he did take some liberty with our characters, but he also has no reason to take anonymous criticism seriously if he already believes the writer doesn't know what they're talking about." Odile clicks her tongue. If that's the case, the playwright should still have done more thorough fact-checking, because all of Dormont knew Siffrin had been one of the Saviors, but the play was written in such a short time frame that she can believe a rush job. "So. Odds that Siffrin wanted to talk about our journey for whatever reason, but didn't wish to bring any attention to himself."

Mirabelle looks to the side, fiddling with the ornaments on her dress with soft clinking noises. "It's...it's not zero...and I guess...the play did get SOME things right...but couldn't that have just been luck? Do you really think Vallario spoke to Siffrin?"

Odile pauses for a second to gathering her thoughts before speaking. "I think it's a possibility." She smiles. "It might be worth paying Signore Vallario a visit. Either we give a liar a nasty shock, or maybe...well, it's only a slight possibility, but..."

But even as she falters, hesitant to put too much weight on a faint hope, Mirabelle sees the possibility herself and perks up, her eyes almost sparkling. "If he really talked to Siffrin, they could still be in the capital. We could talk to him! If...if he wants to talk."

Yes. If they want to talk. Because even if Vallario is being honest, there's a contradiction between Siffrin being given to fond reminiscence about their group, and how quick they'd been to leave it.