Wired Theatre Company invite us to trudge through 1 Shakespeare Street as prospective purchasers.
While Fran, the agent, is at pains to point out double glazing, “compact”
kitchen and Italianinspired patio, the voyeur in each of us is treated to more than a scan of bookshelves or mantelpiece displays of faded photos.
Behind closed doors we witness the owners’ past: Martin, Dodie and Margaret in a threesome on the sofa, Martin getting a spanking in the bathroom – bare bum on show – and Margaret smoking weed on the doorstep. Dodie’s unwitting turns of present confusion and her friends’ attempts to cope are woven in.
Wired hope that by performing in “nontheatrical spaces” and involving their audience, they will break down “accepted theatrical barriers to create a shared experience”.
Playing on the voyeuristic element of house-hunting, and a notion that houses contain the memories of lives lived within, is potentially interesting.
However, once one gets beyond the superficial provocation of a threesome, a bare bum and a set of handcuffs on the chair of the flowery spare bedroom, what’s left is a fairly tedious script which is dragged out and might profitably be hurried up to half the current length.
Far from engaging, it is stifling and ultimately alienating. Apart from Martin offering tea, only Fran acknowledges us and she tries so hard it’s squeamish to watch her at times. The others, while convincing overall, act as though we aren’t there – which surely defies their stated point.
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