Flesh — Still Life

Flesh is a series of movement sketches about the body and the various ways of escaping it: a hospital death, plastic surgery, an immersive virtual-reality episode and a funeral. The first two are very good, mixing black humour and physical theatre with a dystopian mime-like precision which falls something in between Mr Bean and Black Mirror.

Indeed, the production gets off to a strong, dramatic start. In a shadowy and sparse hospital chamber, we watch a man at the end of his life. In the next sequence we are propelled into the eccentric colour wash of the domestic 1960s, and his new plastic face turn from dream to nightmare. The stage design of these two pieces is simply stunning, and more than worth their understandably long yet slightly awkward transitions.

The problem, however, is that the later sketches lose control. The blackness gives way to humour, and the funeral becomes increasingly farcical. For example, the VR sequence is particularly uncomfortable and, for long stretches, simply boring: watching a silent woman crawl around on the floor pretending to be on the Titanic for over fifteen minutes is quite a big ask.

That being said, there is an interesting thread running through the work — each episode plays with liminality, the space between the body and somewhere else — but the absurdity and farce eventually take over. The first two sketches are strong enough to show what the piece could do. The final two make it feel considerably longer than they need to be.

But in spite of its ambition, this remains a memorable and impressive show overall.

Flesh — Still Life by Still Life. Credit Hubert Amiel.