Review: Find your way with Adeeb in Papers from the Citadel
Written and performed by Adeeb Razzouk
Review by Zoe Witenden
Papers from the Citadel is a story about finding your way in the dark. It is a surrealist multimedia performance with solo writer, performer, and protagonist Adeeb, formed from a series of writings created in solitude when he made his way from Syria to Lebanon during the civil war.
Adeeb tells us a story so personal yet universal it could be any of ours. It seems strange, even somewhat wrong, to say how deeply I related to a narrative drawn out of the experience of leaving a country in a civil war. Yet the metaphor is so strong it would be strange not to. I think that’s the point: “Our misery is different but the same”.
Before the play begins, the audience is addressed by Adeeb. He asks us how we found our way to PACT that evening, a very special centre for emerging artists hiding off the main street of Erskineville. Had we been there before? Did we use a map? What was it that guided us? What was it that carried us there? We are questioned, minds pried open to think more deeply, or to think at all, about our journey. We are taken to the space we need to be to digest what Adeeb needs to tell us, what we need to hear.
The lights go down. The questions become rhetorical. We find ourselves with Adeeb at the top of a staircase, hearts racing as we are asked what we think about when we fall. We are in a room, a Citadel. Blank pages are stuck to the walls like stonework. Piles of paper are the only other embellishment, with the exception of a wooden case to carry the stars. The Citadel has one window, and one door. It is always night in the Citadel. That one door is forgotten, as it often is; the way out. We can see a world beyond us, outside of us, staring out a window from the safety of an opposing wall. Darkness and isolation can turn into a strange comfort before they oppress you, before you become lost in what is, and hidden from what can be. How can you find your way if you can’t even find the door?
A soft light from above jumps around for Adeeb to chase as he speaks into it, through it, beyond it. Hypnotic sounds fill the air as he takes over the space. We are plunged into darkness again, and again, a visceral experience of what it feels like to be lost. The constant question and answer from the protagonist to himself lures us into an isolated mind and the confusion that comes with it.
Adeeb keeps us in his control with the complete sincerity of his performance. He seems to completely lose himself in his body, his movement an uncomfortable representation of inner turmoil as he loses sight of his way out. That one door is forgotten. All that remains are blank pages and one view of the world beyond. The music becomes louder and more insistent as the piece goes on, mirroring our protagonist’s growing desperation. As we journey through his inner world, hazy light becomes harsh, strobing, and eventually moves with Adeeb, stars the guiding lights in his hands as he dances.
We are engulfed by sound, light, and the lack of at various points in the piece. The set is dispersed, torn - blank pages scattered as turmoil creates chaos. We are pulled further into the dream-like chronicle by a short projected film by Ali Rezvani as Adeeb continues to move through the space, stars now scattered as we watch our protagonist begin to find his way out, finding that one door to freedom.
To delve any deeper into the happenings within and without Adeeb’s Citadel would take away the inherent mystery of the show. I was worried I didn’t understand it well enough, but I know how it made me feel. I was drawn into the discomfort of my own experiences of isolation and disconnection through Adeeb’s, but embraced safely through it, out of it. A performance of such sincerity works because of it. The same words, movement and film would make me wince if not for every moment, step and sound rupturing with emotion. It can be difficult to absorb such feelings around fear, trauma, isolation and loss, but we were prepared for it, welcomed into it, from the beginning.
Papers from the Citadel reminds us of our humanness in our shared suffering, and our shared hope to escape it. It is a sentiment often placed in our hands that feels easier to drop, but Adeeb carries it for us for a while, teaching us that the weight lessens the more hands there are to hold it.
We are in a room, a theatre. The theatre has many seats, and many doors - one we freely walk through. The only window is the one Adeeb presents to us. That one door is forgotten. We are not entrapped, but enraptured, staring through the window to Adeeb’s hidden world that saved him, transported to our own which can save us. Found. Freed.
Papers from the Citadel played at PACT from 20 March until 22 March 2025. Find more information on PACT’s website.
Zoe doesn’t love to review, but she does love to write, and she really loves when art doesn’t just poke your brain but touches your spirit. She’s culturally Catholic and will still willingly enter a church. They don’t really “do” social media anymore but you can see their archives on their Instagram @zo.wit.
