Caligula . Chapter Arts.12 April 2013

It is usual in reviewing theatre to provide a pithy synopsis and performance analysis.This review offers neither.

The interplay of ego,alter-ego and ego mania in this play renders the separation of roles tendentious and the attempt to reduce the kaleidic narrative of this performance to"A" story, futile.

This is theatre in the surround, every seat is the best seat.The audience are props and oh how they loved the contact.

With echoes of NTW’s Coriolanus this is stripped down, tactile, touchable theatre and it doesn’t require chasing around after a beaten up Bedford van in a draughty hangar.

This play offers novel insights into : the control of public expenditure; enhancing  human reproduction by means of solar power ; increasing civic pride by the patronage of brothels; unusual uses for portable electric drills and the deployment of tennis balls.

This production was refreshingly long on language and short on “language”, even the anatomical was analytical. It’s a long time since I last heard “gonads” being  spoken of , even in jest , in this part of Cardiff.

This is a high calibre cast well directed  on a reworking of Camus’ script by David Greig. This  script  has since been the subject of extensive original research and development.

The reinterpretation of familiar themes through novel motifs was engaging , geriatric rapping was new to me and quite scary.

The portrayal of angry androgony was compelling.This was Pet Shop Boys with edge .

But whils’t  there  was attitude the musical intent was unclear.The audience didn’t know whether to laugh or to laugh. Perhaps this too was ambiguity by design.

There was a brief allusion to Welsh literature , more could be made of this, after all mania knows no boundaries.

The professional cast was exemplary in  teasing out the best from their willing third age accomplices notably “Dave” who shimmied in a style unchanged since the closure of the Top Rank and “Sheila” who was the stoical butt of much of the humour .

This was “One flew over the Cuckoo’s nest” with double mania, ”A clockwork Orange” with added menace and “Silence of the lambs”, ..the badly lit bit towards the end.

We were offered “the gift of meaninglessness” but we were missold. There was a headspinning layering to this production which will ensure its relevance and energy for a long time to come.

The play’s author, Albert Camus, preferred football to theatre but he was a self confessed absurdist.

If you can deal with disorientation , succumb to sensitisation and cope with constructive confusion this is a must see.

BRIAN ROPER