As their publicity states, Wellington’s The Bacchanals are best known for their text-based theatre, propagating social, spiritual and psychological debate.

But the programme notes for their current show playing at Bats, A Christmas Karel Capek, also says, as it’s Christmas the audiences get the night off from their usual fare.

Nevertheless, much of this production, very, very loosely based around Dickens’ story, with ideas from “fathers of science-fiction” Karel Capek and Isaac Asimov, does make many tilts at the establishment, capitalism, politics and anything else worth knocking. [More]

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Christmas is not a great time of the year for David (David Lawrence). In the face of the looming festivities a mediocre chicken tikka masala is enough to send him spiraling into a vortex of existential doubt, self-loathing and misanthropy; a grim fug that cannot be lifted – not even by a jauntily-performed piece of casiotone-assisted songwriting from his co-habitator Brianne (Brianne Kerr).

His misery is further entrenched as he recounts a ghostly visitation from his friend Salesi (Salesi Le’ota – who was not tragically killed in that opening night fire) and who has a terrible warning about the futility of human endeavour. But David has a solution to the sack of woes heaped upon his back. Something that will spare him the indignities of the season… 

He’s going to build a robot.

No sooner has David unveiled his creation – Bri (Kirsty Bruce) – than tensions tangle between him and the nonplussed Brianne. You see, David’s goal for Bri is purely selfish: he wants her for a domestic slave, to perform tedious domestic tasks while simultaneously removing all need for him to interact with the rest of the world. Effectively, he wants Bri to supplant him. Granted, that is pretty much what all technological innovation has been intended for since the turn of the millennium. Brianne, on the other hand, has grander plans – she believes that robots can be used for the advancement of civilisation, the betterment of humankind and the salvation of critically-endangered pandas. Well, mainly the bit about the pandas…

Alas, as with all the very best-laid plans, no sooner than you can say “Isaac Asimov’s three laws of robotics”, it looks set to end in the enslavement of the human race, the death of the world, time travel and a surprise visit from Santa Claus. 

Largely eschewing the fiercely-spat political vitriol of their recent productions, here The Bacchanals serve us up a heaped helping of Christmas silliness while maintaining their delightfully eccentric approach to theatre. Immediately they confront us with a piece of meta-theatrical dictation – outlining their goals for the play and addressing the audience out of character (although, given their characters are kinda themselves,the line is utterly smudged from the get-go). If you’re looking for a fourth-wall illusion-of-reality play, you’re well out of luck. What follows is a brain-befuddling hour and a half of pop-culture references, wonderfully-realised songs, nods to cult sci-fi flicks, dissections of theatrical process and acting technique, snide-swipes at various political parties, home-made robot costumes and a very special guest appearance.

All of which still leaves enough room for a hilarious interlude from Jonny Potts (well, maybe you won’t find it quite so funny if you happen to be Welsh) and an on-stage cooking lesson on the art of making a really fine curry – whatever narrative function it serves, it smells delicious.

Oh, and Theatreview gets a mention.  As does John Smythe.

As always, the barrage is a thrilling one. I’m certain a great many of the allusions slip by me but the ones I grasp are a delight and missing any of them steals nothing from the play. It is a dizzying volley across the entirety of the brow (from high- to middle- to low-). Personally, I am quite fond of the literary references; if nothing else, they slightly vindicate my largely-unusable university education.

The play is a wonderful mix of the miniscule and the macro: huge ideas about society, enterprise and humanity swim in a slurry of trivia, factoids and random rants about TV shows. It sweeps from the politically pointed to the pithily (and poignantly) personal. And ultimately, its message is a teensy bit heart-warming, even as it emerges from the black and brackish heart of the thoroughly-disillusioned David.

The cast all acquit themselves well. Special mention must go to Lawrence, Kerr and Le’ota who carry the show superbly. All three of them are commanding and compelling performers who engage well with the audience. The stage design by Harriet Denby is a delight, bedecked in posters and kitsch bric-a-brac. The bedroom set for the dream sequences is a particular highlight. Lighting design (operated by Charlotte Simmonds) is evocative, immersive and – like everything else – utterly self-aware.

So, once again The Bacchanals have delivered an exciting work that will entertain and exhaust in equal measure. It is a sparking live-wire of a play. A piece that is iconoclastic, absurd and humorous… and highly recommended as an energising Yuletide treat.   

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer