When Komedia invited me to preview the play Ristorante Immortale, I jumped at the chance. Not only would I get an opportunity to visit Berlin, one of the coolest cities in Europe, I would also meet the talented company behind the show.

Renowned for creating a kind of wordless theatre somewhere between slapstick and Commedia del'Arte (Buster Keaton crossed with Parisian mime artist Jacques Le Coq), Familie Floez have toured the world.

Wearing handmade, papier-mache masks and wigs, the accomplished cast use music, mime and movement to tell their stories.

And not a word is spoken throughout.

I saw Ristorante Immortale at the Arena, a former bus depot and Berlin's largest music venue. I took my seat in the steep, raked auditorium and was captivated from the opening scene.

The action takes place in a kind of surreal, culinary location reminiscent of Fawlty Towers, where dreams and nightmares, comedy and pathos collide.

Located somewhere between heaven and hell, Ristorante Immortale is a lost and lonely place which never opens but never closes either, and where its tireless staff live out their days waiting for customers who never turn up.

An overweight cook passes the time playing the accordion while the boss buckles under the weight of his responsibility and struggles to control his unruly waiters - the vain, ambitious maitre d', who compulsively admires his reflection in the silver, the foolish waiter, who always gets it wrong but means well and the weary, senior waiter, whose arthritic hips mean he can no longer keep up.

Each of the characters faces their alter ego, which reveals their unfulfilled longings. Their tragi-comic lives revolve around endless preparation, frustration, boredom, play and myriad emotions in between.

Doors slam, plates turn into castanets, a laundry basket becomes a ship and kitchen tools become instruments. The play has its own rhythm and movement.

The masks, while completely static, are profoundly expressive and that is the magic of the play. It's an illusion which still excites co-director Michael Vogel, despite the fact the play is now in its seventh year.

"It's theatre of the imagination," he says. "Masks are a medium for a deep exchange between the actors and the audience.

"The actors need the audience to respond to the masks for the masks to come to life. But it's the audience who project that response on to the mask.

"About 80 per cent of communication is body language so the masks simply reflect what is happening to the actor's body," he explains. "The masks hide nothing, they tell the truth. The power and intelligence of the body is immense."

The audience in Berlin seemed at home with the genre, laughing heartily all the way through. I asked Michael whether he had noticed much of a difference in the response from audiences around the world.

"The characters express universal emotions," he says, "everyone can relate to it. It's about the human experience. But the audience response varies.

"Culturally, there is a big difference between the way people in Spain respond, compared to Germany, for example. And this effects the performance, too.

"The show you saw became comical because there were a lot of people laughing, so the characters became more amusing. Sometimes, if the audience is more sombre, the characters reflect that."

Starts 8pm. Tickets cost £10-£14. Call 01273 674100