It’s Bill’s birthday. The bunting is up, the crudités are chopped and the booze – so much booze – sloshes in the punchbowl. But as he pours himself another glass and listens for the doorbell, it seems Bill will be celebrating this one alone. A Beckettian sense of dread quickly pervades this entertaining hour of wordless puppetry supported by the Jim Henson Foundation. You could call it Waiting for Gonzo.
Bushily moustachioed, his caterpillar eyebrows raised in astonishment or despair, our host is controlled by puppeteers Dorothy James and Andy Manjuck, the show’s co-creators. They achieve a portrayal that is tender and goofy, with Manjuck’s often beady expression conveying the angst of the eyeball-free Bill whose papier-mache head evokes an avuncular version of Tim Burton’s Jack Skellington. The duo each control one of Bill’s arms and, while he only has an upper torso, create a characterful gait as he potters around.
It’s a strained jolly amble designed to keep the darkness at bay and is well matched by Eamon Fogarty’s superb compositions which interweave several types of jazz (lounge, cool, free). The guests he ingeniously creates for himself from balloons bring plenty of humour, though inevitably little personality, which serves to highlight the limited range of Bill’s own behaviour. His default mode is lamentation, interrupted by desperate dance moves, and while the plodding pace is partly the point, it grows monotonous. The show’s trippier scenes, featuring melting walls and crimson lighting from M Jordan Wiggins, could be significantly wilder.
While the details of Bill’s life are kept elusive, we can tell plenty about his relationship with his mother from the way he unwraps her present with a sigh. One clever setup shows him watching home movies which explode out of his TV, with a tiny puppet Bill celebrating his birthdays through the years. Although it’s affecting to recognise the older Bill’s behaviour in his younger self, and hear the chatter of his party guests gradually disappear as he ages, there isn’t enough context here to create a greater emotional connection. The storytelling denies us a fuller sense of his past. Bill is a splendid puppet, skilfully controlled, but he’s left all dressed up with nowhere to go.
At the Pit, Barbican, London, until 4 February. London international mime festival runs until 5 February.
