Whimsy, Theatre N16, review

A baffling, chaotic and misjudged production at Balham’s Theatre N16, Whimsy is packed with way too many ideas to be able to land any.

It’s taken me longer than normal to turn my review of Whimsy around, because I’ve been trying desperately – and I do really mean desperately – to get my head around what effect the company (Scram Collective) could’ve wanted their debut production to have on an audience.

That’s how I think you should judge shows (and frame reviews): you can, of course, talk about how successful you think something is at achieving aims in situations when those aims are clear. I was lucky to participate in a devising workshop with Bryony Kimmings recently, when she understandably articulated – and come on, this isn’t rocket science – that one of the first things to do when creating devised work is pinpoint overarching impacts (she suggests 3) that you want your piece to have on audience members as they leave the auditorium. Those could be specific call-to-actions (eg. to pick up the phone to someone) or less tangible (eg. to simply weep at an injustice).

On this occasion, I’ve struggled to work out what Whimsy strove to achieve for so long now that I’ve pretty inevitably reached a conclusion. And I’m sorry to Scram Collective, a new company who I do commend for making their own work and putting it out there, but it’s not a positive one.

So…the biggest problem and source of my frustration lies in this simple fact that Whimsy’s intended effect is impossible to work out. You can’t help but feel that they’ve utterly ignored the prospect that their show would ever be seen by an external audience since day 1 of the devising process. Ironically and pointedly, in equal measure, the company even ignores them during the performance. Their arrogance to decide not to even acknowledge their paying customers with a bow is more than just frustrating and dislikable and, indeed, ‘whimsical’ (I’m unable to decipher a single ‘creative’ or symbolic reason as to why that bow wouldn’t take place). As small a (non)event as it seems, it’s actually a great metaphor for the overall failure of the production: a real incapacity to consider they’re making a piece for anyone to enjoy other than themselves.

From the moment the lights go down, the writing and performers steam ahead at 100mph at a relentless, aggravating pace somewhat reminiscent of an Artaudian ‘Theatre of Cruelty’ piece. I guess it’s meant to start out as an ‘absurdist comedy’ – focusing on Aoife, an anti-Faust-like character with voices in her head and special powers that ensure she gets whatever she wants. The cast bound around the stage, throwing bras at each other and speaking – for the most part – at an entirely unnecessary volume (do they think they’re playing in the Olivier?).

But then before you know it, the storyline has metamorphosed into a relatively insensitive ‘exploration’ of male domestic violence – with a rape scene which is uncomfortable for all the wrong reasons. It really is as nonsensical and bewildering as it sounds, and whilst, in theory, I admire the company for taking risks and attempting to experiment transitioning from one type of theatre to another, neither are successful on any level here.

The misjudged content doesn’t even let the cast showcase noteworthy acting abilities. They certainly have energy (all of the energy…a 24-pack of Red Bull amount of energy) but seemingly don’t know where to channel it. The physical theatre sections are imprecise and lacklustre, the acting styles inconsistent (Alex Newsport’s jarring in particular) and the blocking is messy and the ‘real’ type of chaotic (as opposed to ‘we-are-secretly-in-control-but-we-skillfully-make-it-look-otherwise’ chaotic’). I rarely felt that the actors were in control of their own movements or Whimsy‘s pacing, and again, that just made for an uncomfortable viewing experience.

In sum, Scram Collective display a lot of energy and enthusiasm but need to be far more selective in which ideas they run with and which they leave for a future production. To use a slightly cringeworthy allegory, throw the audience one tennis ball and we’ll probably catch it. Throw 10 at the same time and there’s literally no hope of any of us grabbing hold of any. They also need to approach every second of the devising process with the question ‘what do we want the audience to feel at this moment?’ on their minds. Finally, they just need to show enough bloody respect to acknowledge their audience with a bow. Unless they can clearly articulate a very strong artistic reason not to, anyway.