In Italo Calvino’s novel The Baron in the Trees, a boy aristocrat, fed up with most things that make up his well to do life and decidedly outraged by a meal his sister served, decides to escape to a nearby tree and never come down to earth again. In the trees is where he stays for the rest of his very rich life, learning about the world he left behind and studying its inhabitants while managing to still be involved in the social and political turmoils of his time.

The Baron, literally detached from the mundane everyday life yet free to partake in it when he so pleases, manages to become much shrewder about the world then those on the ground. Written in the late 1950’s, this story takes place in an 18th century bit of Italy that’s still to become part of a united country. Halfway through the book feudalism is swept away by the Enlightenment; as the self-isolated Baron goes about his intellectual musings, Calvino’s Italy  – the one that produced some iconic films – is subtly reflected in historical fables.

Without its context The Baron in the Trees would probably be reduced to a fun if slightly inconsequential read. Even in its less radical variations the Enlightenment was still a far cry from a moderate change, what with advocating rational thought above everything else, including the church; an aristocrat despising and abandoning privilege so he could peacefully think is very much in tune with his times – without them however he’s a loner and a weirdo. Italy’s booming economy of the 1950’s & cultural consequences or indeed the Enlightenment, should not really be a subject of a  2013 performance, but since it was these contexts that inspired The Baron in the Trees, new and contemporary socio-economic circumstances should probably make an appearance (otherwise, how is the classic going to echo through the times?)

Curiously however Biped’s Monitor, Arbonauts’ reinterpretation of the Italian novel, comes with little context and an equal amount of Calvino’s text. The performers might be dressed in stylised 18th century inspired costumes, but the signposts finish there and so this site specific and immersive piece turns into an exhibition of not particularly connected repetitive etides. A couple attempts to negotiate cohabitation in one of the trees; a young aristocratic woman keeps fainting, while a wildling runs around the site yelling a single (made up or unrecognisable) word, over and over again.

This series of looped images eats away into the performance, but fails to inspire much curiosity, as it quickly transpires that past the costumes little effort has been made to unify all the bits and bobs that make out Biped’s Monitor. The socio-political landscape from the original has been removed but not replaced, and so what’s left is an emptiness not inclined to belong to any time or space – unless the costumes are elevated to the status of epoque semi-replication.

This production stumbles at its conceptual beginnings. Choosing a specific site for a site-specific performance doesn’t mean acquiring connotations all ready to be consumed; an immersive show takes an abundance of layered micro-performances, scattered around for the audience to find, discover and decode. Instead, Biped’s Monitor puts full faith in its setting, that then fails to provide not just a whole world, but also a distinct atmosphere. As intriguing and picturesque as Nunhead cemetery is, it’s still just a half sketch in theatrical terms. Graves lost amid overgrown bushes offer only a general hue of temporality conflicted with tradition, but with the site presented more or less as it was found, these associations don’t become concrete.Meanwhile, the few interventions to the cemetery range from a slightly obvious makeshift rope swing to a slightly crude and superfluous small wooden shed (hiding a visual trick for those who dare go inside).

These scenographic innovations never quite stretch to being Nunhead-inspired additions, remaining instead distinct external alterations; it’s almost as if the company is fighting against the site, rather than working with it.  Finally, this performance lacks the content needed for an immersive piece to have a chance of working; the material is so simple in its nature that even the slowest pace of discovery quickly leaves the audience hanging around for more.

Biped’s Monitor is an ambitious attempt from start to finish – it takes on a literary classic and sets on to create a piece with little dialogue, that can draw from its site, atmosphere and performers. While this ambition, which stretches from core material to production value, is good to see, there’s something to be said for not allowing the ideas to overwhelm the result. The various concepts that clash within this performance  – of site-specificity, immersiveness, Calvino’s text –  seem to have worked against each other, resulting in a peaceful walk in the park instead of an outraged protest in the trees.