PERFORMANCE & COMEDY

Alma Tavern Theatre, Bristol (Thur 16-Sat 18 Feb)

Don’t be alarmed. It’s just, well, they’re watching. Listening too. All the time.  Yes, it’s a funny old world, especially if you live in Shutterland, where everything you’ve ever done has been seen, heard and stored away, where “futures are decided and pasts are forgotten”.

Rhum and Clay bring their spring tour of ‘Shutterland’ to the Alma Tavern Theatre. The company’s roots are in Paris, where the performers studied at the esteemed Jacques Lecoq School. Does this mean we’re going to see clowning, buffoonery, commedia dell’arte, perhaps a bit of mime? The Lecoq school aims to prioritise the “physical playing of the actor”, but it’s not all half-masks and leotards.

On a minimal set comprising steel box, bowler hat and briefcase, three figures emerge with flashing torches out of the blackness to examine their environment. Yes, they’re in masks, but bear with it. We meet Lublin (Christopher Harrisson who also designs the evocative sound). He’s a cowed automaton who works in the basement of an anonymous department and whose only administrative contribution is “yes” or “no”. Today marks the 25th anniversary of The Great Reshaping, the soulless regime formed from the chaos of what went before. Lublin is happy to clap and listen to the Orator and to wave a little flag. Until the red letter arrives…

To give more detail would be to reveal some gems. The company (Harrisson, Kristoffer Huball, Julian Spooner and Matthew Wells) have devised a little charmer. In a space that seems tight for their physical work, it nevertheless gives us an intimate glimpse of their craft, which takes in silent cinema, slapstick and the angular tableaux of expressionism. The verbal language also shows inventiveness as Lublin struggles to crack absurdist social and political codes within this off-kilter dystopia. Sure, the premise of an innocent discovering the ugliness of his oppressive existence is much utilized, but to focus on Rhum and Clay’s influences would be to miss the point. Via the play and replay of Lublin’s daily grind we get to see that contemporary theatre constantly looks to articulate the relationship between human and machine.

But this isn’t a grim, worthy hour. ‘Shutterland’ doesn’t take itself too seriously and there’s some lovely comic timing. It would be good to see elements of the story developed to make a longer, more substantial piece, but there’s still much to like. PS No leotards were employed in the making of this piece. (Kerry Hood)  

Copyright Kerry Hood 2012