Teatro Kismet's UK premiere tells the tale of the 5,000-year-old story of Gilgamesh, "two parts god and one part man", and his quest for immortality.
Nonsense being such an underrated quality in theatre, I'm reluctant to dwell upon the play's moments of humanity and profound moral clarity.
So let's get straight to the White Dancer, a Banzai-esque figure who opens proceedings trying to fly with miniature wings and ends it trying to fly with two water bowls after dousing much of the stage with their contents.
In between, he performs a myriad of beautifully enigmatic tasks - lifting a naked man from a Damien Hirst-like tank, grabbing a mic to deliver a rolling fight commentary and lowering a row of suspended twigs on a little pulley.
Then there's the Scribe, a wild narrator with an apparent shoe fetish in whose Italian the ancient poetry is mesmerisingly beautiful and in whose heavily accented English the plot sounds wonderfully off-kilter. And then there's the erotic goddess Ishtar who tries to seduce Gilgamesh - joyously, clingy silver cocktail dresses appear to have been the pulling-clobber of choice for circa 2700BC deities.
The ensuing exchange goes something along the lines of, "Gilgamesh, bring your hand to my vulva", "Leave me alone, you clapped out whore", "Gilgamesh has insulted me, unleash the celestial bull!" You just don't get dialogue like that these days.
The staging is ingenious, a wooden strip transporting cast members back and forth through a gossamer-like veil. The heavenly space behind is the preside of Gilgamesh's mother, a matriarch of Valkyrian proportions who sends words of wisdom to her Earth-bound son while puffing on a huge pipe.
When Gilgamesh voyages to the underworld, a mirror at the back of the stage somehow reflects a disembodied talking head while ash-like fragments cascade in a darkly sparkling shower. In an inspired gesture of resignation, Gilgamesh calmly puts up an umbrella and meanders off to mortality.
Writer director Teresa Ludovico could no doubt make a packet doing music videos but I hope she sticks to theatre. A family feast of the ridiculous and the sublime, Gilgamesh is surely the best time you can have at the Festival without the aid of illegal substances - or at least a little of what Gilgamesh's mother's having.
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