Brothers Bare
Theatre Works Explosives Factory until 11 October
The soundscape is disconcerting. Punctuating the forceful thumps, growls and scrapes is the limping lullaby of a broken music box. What was once comforting is no longer so.
Set in a modern dystopia where the fairy tales and fables of yesteryear return to their dark roots, Brothers Bare marks the launch of Ranting Mime, a new production company with gender parity at its core. Brothers Bare unfolds in three vignettes, weaving contemporary concerns – gender politics, body dysmorphia, and sexual assault – with storybook sensibilities. The intention is clear: to dissect the seemingly innocuous tales that shape our conceptions of the world. Co-written by Jessica Fallico and Iley Jones, rhythm and rhyme assist in the story’s delivery, juxtaposing dark subject matter with the juvenile familiarity of nursery rhyme.
Fallico’s direction animates a world that is at once colourful and dismal, and the four performers that inhabit it are fully committed from beginning to end. Elisheva Biernoff-Giles’ narration is the show’s beating heart, and Grace Gemmell’s various ingenues are the centrepieces of each vignette. Brothers Bare demands the most of Charlie Veitch and Dion Zapantis, who transition between various adversaries and provide much of the show’s menace.
I will say, though the atmosphere is palpable throughout, not every vignette is created equal. The first, in which a White Rabbit riddles with a stuck Cinderella who is “late for a very important date”, is perhaps the most perplexing. While it appears to implore its female audience not to sacrifice parts of themselves for a man, the message is a little muddy. The second vignette is the strongest: a young woman, succumbing to the “poison apple” that is her smart phone, is plagued by two trolls that feed on her insecurity until nothing remains. The shadow puppetry and Cameron Boxall’s creative choreography – especially the grim corsetry – are undeniable highlights. Though its message is important, the third (and most grave) vignette features a somewhat graphic sexual assault scene that struck me as gratuitous. The implication of the choreography that preceded it was powerful in and of itself.
Nevertheless, Brothers Bare is a compelling adaptation of the stories that raised us. This stylish descent down the rabbit hole shines a light on the darkness that lurks beneath.
