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The Guardian - UK
The Guardian - UK
Entertainment
Brian Logan

Trygve Wakenshaw review – behold the one-man band of mime

In one fine section Trygve Wakenshaw plays all the members of a band: clattering drummer, perky flautist and smug lead guitar.
In one fine section Trygve Wakenshaw plays all the members of a band: clattering drummer, perky flautist and smug lead guitar. Photograph: David Levene/The Guardian

No props. No set. No text. No narrative. Just one light. Those are the rules guiding Trygve Wakenshaw’s new show, as laid down by fellow Kiwi Thom Monckton, who performed in the original edition two years ago. They sound daunting, until you recall that most of Wakenshaw’s extraordinary physical comedy shows met several of those standards anyway. One of them, 2015’s Nautilus, was nominated for an Edinburgh comedy award, but Only Bones v1.4 isn’t in that league. It’s an odd event, in which Wakenshaw proves he can easily rise to Monckton’s challenge – but doesn’t seem sure why to bother.

It begins with our gangly host miming and lip-syncing along to an audio mash-up: cartoon sound effects, snatches of music and clips from Wakenshaw’s past interviews. Soon this dizzying montage gives way to more substantial set-pieces. The light isolates Wakenshaw’s hands, which dance along the keys of an imaginary piano, then morph into an undersea squid. The worlds unite: a pianist’s hand trembles at the approach of a shark. This is prime Wakenshaw, as a body part we know to be one thing vividly becomes another, and the ridiculous and the spellbinding combine.

Trygve Wakenshaw’s Only Bones v1.4 preview

There’s another fine section in which, spotlit on different areas of the stage, Wakenshaw plays all the members of a band: perky flautist, smug lead guitar, clattering drummer. At this point, I was nestling in for an hour of high-end, lo-fi mime sketches – but that’s not what we get. Halfway in, the show takes a swerve, and Wakenshaw finds himself with even fewer resources at his disposal. The intention, I suspect, is to raise the stakes on Monckton’s original challenge. But the effect is to leech momentum from the show, which becomes more improvisatory and interactive, but also diffident and directionless.

Then another reversal sets us up for a triumphant final act – that doesn’t materialise. The show peters out, as if there was a veto on structure as well as narrative, props and the rest. Wakenshaw is a performer of immense skill and charm but – despite one or two very fine sequences – Only Bones v1.4 feels unfinished, and unsure what it wants to be.

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