"We survived so you don't have to", runs the tagline for this newly devised work from Told by an Idiot associate company Bric à Brac Theatre. We are in a post-apocalyptic setting—or, perhaps more precisely, a just-pre-apocalyptic one. Throughout the show, we’re given a final countdown, starting at ten days before the mysterious 'event' towards which the narrative builds.
In the light of this impending doom, Cecille (Siobhan Cha Cha) has emerged as a dictatorial leader who seeks to shepherd the world into a new era. Around her, Kitty Devlin and Alex Hinson multirole as a rogue's gallery of characters. Devlin is a hapless lackey sent on various missions to keep the populace in check, while Hinson shifts between a range of comically broad character sketches (mainly delineated by outrageous accents), but also impressively transforms herself later to become one of the more humane and grounded characters.
The cast perform with warmth, humour, and physical control throughout, though often it's smile-worthy rather than laugh-out-loud funny. The most inventive comedic moments come through the use of some imaginative props. There's good projection work by Virginie Taylor and Max Spielbichler. But all of this adds up to an overall impression of bittiness, the production not settling on a coherent style or mood. At times, it feels as though it's pitched younger than its marketing (and 8PM start time) might suggest (though there were one or two families in the audience when I saw it). But this makes the occasional use of swearwords feel jarring, and some more obscure plot development again suggests a slight uncertainty of tone and target audience.
But, as mentioned, the company does display real strengths. Another of these is the stylish and varied soundtrack, by Ellie Isherwood. This is the beating heart of the show, and the cast all contribute live vocals to various songs. Of the three, Alex Hinson has the most to do here, and she sings powerfully and at times emotively. While the songs aren't anything too memorable lyrically, the compositions and delivery are sublime. An atmospheric soundtrack keeps the action flowing even through the disparate styles and ingredients which don't quite otherwise cohere.
An example of this is the sudden appearance of real-life political figures on video, seemingly voiced by AI models or otherwise uncannily edited to talk about the imminent catastrophe. I feel there ought to be a content warning that the first of these to appear is the current president of the United States. In contrast to his recent flooding of the zone with unpredictability and bile, he appears almost statesmanlike in this imagined iteration.
To say too much more about plot, setting, or characters would rob audiences of one of the pleasures of the piece: figuring out exactly what is going on here. It's not revelatory when this does become clear, but it's a nice gambit.
Director Anna Marshall keeps the action and plot moving forwards; there are surprising and unexpected shifts throughout. Michael Julings's unusual 'art director' credit presumably means that Julings assembled the various scenic elements, which are again imaginative if a little scattershot. Perhaps in some of the more intimate spaces to which this is now due to tour, the show will come alive: the direct address and (minimal) moments of audience interaction might have been a bit swamped in the larger Barber Studio.
This is an early offering from this company, and there is much to admire. I'll certainly be looking out for future work by Bric à Brac, even if this piece didn't quite hang together for me.