When you see three actors in full chicken regalia, you can be certain of one of two things: either you will wish you were elsewhere or glad you are here. Chickens seem to have that effect in the theatre.
Within the first few minutes, you will realise it’s the latter.
Presented here are three chickens, with some underlying human qualities, examining their existence in the broadest existential interpretation, taking on some hilarious, sometimes naughty, sometimes profound observations.
Three chickens cooped up for an hour! What could be more profound? And funny. These chickens are wise and guileless. In one hour, they hit almost every chicken cliché available with precision and grace. No turkeys here.
These chickens are aware that there is an “out there” somewhere out there. And that their existence, their sole purpose, is limited to "becoming food".
Helen names all of her eggs as they roll down the chute, never to be seen again. The one who breaks loose of the cage only to return is asked, “would you cross the road?” (It’s better than that; you don’t see it coming.) They talk about the beginning of their existence and (spoiler alert) Helen says it was the egg first.
They have always known that there are hundreds of other chickens and there is an end to each. The end is tolled by an insanely loud buzzer and flashing neon lights. “Is it us?” squawks Helen. It’s not their time.
As we watch them imagining in wonder and horror what is happening to the selected group, we hear the sound of dozens of chickens noisily herded away to their end with one lone shriek and then silence. They are witness to everything that goes on around them. They are dazed and silent for a moment, then quickly return to the chatter. Well done!
Writer-director Bill Schaumberg keeps his chickens roosting on the edge, where reality meets observation. The set-ups are exquisitely subtle, and the punchlines sit tidily waiting for the audience’s appreciative reaction: sometime a moan, sometime a wave of laughter. None of the humour feels forced. Audrey Rapport as Helen, Matthew DiLoreto as Bronseman and Eric Kirchberger as Reginald make great chickens.
Samuel Becket would be so proud. But these three don’t wait for Godot. They wait for Eggo.