In an age of anxiety we want to believe in heroes, political ones as well as the superpowered variety. But what if heroes are as messed up as the rest of us and don’t know what they’re fighting for? This is the funny, sardonic premise of PanicLab’s new work, in which a quartet of super-spandexed performers have a lot of fun playing with the conventions of comic books, and end up falling down a rabbit hole of moral confusion.
Riot is conceived by Joseph Mercier, who plays both himself and Captain Patriot – the chisel-jawed champion he dreamed of becoming as a child. Using a deft mix of mime, voiceover and cartoon visuals, he sets up the story of how he came to be a superhero, and how he and Sidekick have ended up fighting evilly seductive Mind Games and her sister villain, Vixen.
One of many twists in the story is that Mercier’s fellow performers argue with nearly all of its detail. The women complain of sexism – Mind Games rejects the stiletto boots she’s been given, Vixen refuses to adopt a lascivious drawl: “I don’t think this is a sexy situation,” she says, looking down at her battered foe. Sidekick complains that he’s died five times already and wants a new superpower.
Even if you’re not a comic-book nerd, this meta-bickering is highly enjoyable. But it’s a shame too many of the jokes are deflated by weak, even inaudible delivery, and all four performers appear far more accomplished dancers than actors. The many fight scenes are terrific. Despite the obvious splat-kapow fakery of the moves, they’re staged with impressive heft: hurtling airborne rolls almost take flight; punches and kicks are delivered with deadly conviction.
Halfway through, the production sags under the weight of tangled plotlines and commentaries, but it picks up terrifically at the end, as Captain P comes face to face with the horrific possibility that he’s been brainwashed by his government: that those he took to be villains are heroes, and what he took for terror may be truth. The one thing a superhero can’t survive is ideological complexity, and in a neat volte-face, this entertaining show becomes a moral fable for our times.
At Zoo, The Pleasance, Edinburgh, until 31 August. Box office: 0131-226 0000.
