(disclaimer: this review is written from the point of view of the stick)

It is difficult to separate the content of Inheritance from the show itself. It would be very easy to digress from a review into a discussion of just what it is we have each inherited by way of wealth and atrocity, and just what it is we can, or ought to do with what we now hold. However, if you are seeking such a discussion, Forest Vicky Kapo, Jess Holly Bates and Alyx Duncan have created something far more viscerally engaging than words on a page.

The Basement studio is divided lengthwise, audiences on both sides and a white line dividing the space. There is a body covered in branches on the floor that the audience parts around, unwilling to get close. It is a full house, and from the back row all that can be seen is the back of heads and the faces of those opposite. A disembodied voice sings wordlessly under the general babbel.

Forest rises from the floor, hiding behind leaves with child-like pleasure. Soft, playful, so the hard strikes come as if from nowhere. This is a work that initially covers truths in humour, like medicine in syrup. The charismatic performances and sheer likeability of Forest and Jess invite the audience to relax into complicity, engaging hapily with student loan competitions and Buffalo Soldier before the word “genocide” arrives alongside other blunt facts.

These two bodies on stage are immediately archetyped, and the physicality of the performers enhances this. Forest combines a soft curiosity with a maternal presence, while Jess commands space with a sharp brashness. However as the show progresses the audience is invited to read beyond the obvious. The articulation and timing of a smile, the possibility of violence in a hongi; it is the unspoken, and subtle imagery that offers the clearest mirror for bias.

Inheritance is a new show, and it is in small matters of craft that this shows most. The performers are generous and highly skilled, although not quite yet fully inhabiting their roles. The episodic structure, typical of Jess Holly Bates’ work, lends itself well to the sprawling nature of the subject matter, allowing each fragment of story and image to coalesce over the course of the show.

It is the dissonance between humour and trauma that feels blurred, flattening out the emotional landscape of the work. There are many moments of almost intensity, which with more time and sharper delivery could become truly searing.

Given the one hour length Inheritance is necessarily selective in its material, which seems to have encouraged a less complex staging than might be expected from these artists. It does, however, very neatly present the audience with the difficulties inherent in identifying with both sides of the conversation, especially when there are no clear ideas on how to either exist together now, or within the long tail of history.

The piece ends on a duet, a search for vocal harmony that seems as elusive as equal partnership, or the answers to the questions left strewn in the space. Inheritance is both a delight and a gentle confrontation, a work that will hopefully have a chance to grow into its full potential while encouraging us to all “stay in the room”.

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