Satire, caricature adrift in a sea of silly comedy

The New Athenaeum Theatre. PHOTO: ODT FILES
The New Athenaeum Theatre. PHOTO: ODT FILES
Out at Sea, New Athenaeum Theatre, Monday, March 20

It is a challenge to connect with an audience. We file in, quiet, curious and a little nervous, not knowing what to expect.

The cast of Out at Sea, by Polish playwright Slawomir Mrozek, confidently takes the audience by the hand right at the start, and before we know it we are singing, laughing and looking forward to the next twist.

It is not surprising Mrozek was a political cartoonist during his career.

The blustering, bold foghorn posturing of Fat (Aimee Freeman), crafty shenanigans of Medium (Brent Caldwell) and snivelling entreaties from Thin (Chris Cook) are all the more entertaining for being caricatures.

Sarah Barham, playing the postman and butler, makes the most of her brief appearances, amping up the silliness with excellent physical comedy.

But the real stars are Fat, Medium and Thin, who command the stage with non sequitur declarations and impressive singing voices.

The audience were transfixed by these performers, who clearly relished the opportunity to be broad and ridiculous.

Director Blaise Barham has created beautiful choreography for the performers.

The theatre-in-the-round set is as simple as possible, the audience finding little difficulty fleshing out the scene in their own heads, with the help of a handful of props.

The small stage turns into a merry-go-round of singing and dancing, a swirling set of broad gestures and invitations to solicit laughter and applause from the audience, which is freely given.

Adding the music of Polish composer Frederic Chopin and Yiddish, Ukrainian and Romani folk songs really adds to the absurdist joy of this play.

Mrozek’s deeper message might become a little lost among such excellent physical comedy, but the audience doesn’t really care.

Life, death and politics are simply sideshow attractions in the circus of life.

Out at Sea allows cutting satire to be tucked in the back pocket of slapstick cartoon comedy.