Something new, something old in a way we’ve never seen before

By Kshanika Argent

It’s hard to say whether The Animal and Children Took to the Streets is an invasion of theatre into the digital era or vice versa, but what is certain is that it achieves the goal of leaving audiences with that feeling of not knowing what hit them.

Presented by the British Council Colombo at the British School Auditorium on 28 and 29 February,

the 70 minute rush of stunning animation set as the main backdrop to live, spoken word, performance and music, is the second production the breakout 1927 Theatre Company who created shockwaves at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in 2007 (selling out their entire run of the award winning debut, Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea, which was performed in Colombo back in 2008).

Now having returned to Sri Lanka, the Company successfully flung expectations out the window with a production that is part theatre, part animation; part musical, part graphic novel; where comic meets Goth. A production shows off expertise in the implementation of digital tools and originality in reinventing classic idioms to address contemporary issues almost aggressively and straight in the face of audiences.

A theatrical rollercoaster ride, that provides no seatbelt The Animal and Children Took to the transports the audience, to a macabre, ‘fully furnished sh*t hole’ called the Bayou Mansions, on Red Herring Street. The roach-infested apartment block is nothing more than an inconvenient, unsightly lump of dirt under a prospering city’s rug. Home to the lonely, desperate, dreamy and resigned.

A corrupt and cold Government that occupies a ‘glass cage’ high up in the city’s skyline, has in its view a troublesome youth with Marxist rebel angst, that come out to play in the city’s park at night.

Caught in the middle of the impending calamity is Agnes, an idealistic young mother armed with the belief that all a child needs is, “a bit of love, encouragement and collage”. She arrives at the Bayou with her daughter Evie Eaves, to help bring about a change in the lives of the poor runts by setting up a disaster of an art class.

The Bayou’s caretaker, a pale, depressed and lonely man, is instantly smitten by the graceful Agnes.  

Meanwhile Zelda, the rebellious daughter of Red Herring Street’s Junk Shop owner (the crudely loud Mrs. Vilikka) and the leader of the playground rowdies is determined to turn their lives around by kidnapping the Mayor’s cat, Mister Meow. Holding it ransom, her demands are fair enough: better living conditions, free education, and an X-Box. All the while chanting: “we want what you have.”

By this point in the play, it’s clear that nothing will go right for our downtrodden heroes. Zelda’s revolution backfires, and Government resorts to kidnapping her and every child in the Bayou, transporting them in ice cream vans to a jail where they are sedated with green gum drops. Poor Eavie Eaves gets caught up in the sweep and two mad search ensues – one by Agnes through an unhelpful police and another by the Caretaker – at the cost of his ticket out of the miserable slum.

Staying true to their love of the dark, 1927 gives the audience exactly what they don’t want: a life that goes back to what it was: a Caretaker alone with his deadpan thoughts, one-time anarchists now green gum drop junkies, and Zelda who finally accepts that those born in the Bayou, do die in the Bayou.

The play in its entirety is performed by a cast of three who mash classic silent film, music hall song, cabaret and fairy tales to perfection.

The play is a riot for the senses, exploding in your head as much as it does on the stage. A tug of war between realist doom and gloom and idealist rays of hope, all of which are dashed as quickly as they appear.  

The animated drizzle is soft and beautiful while disgusting bugs scurry along the walls, cityscapes whiz past an actor racing in suspension.

If you’re not caught between the tug of war in themes and emotions you’re folded into ideas and influences that incorporate flat drawing versus real life actors. Sensational tabloid headlines carry the not just the gist of the story, but the story. Never does the depressed, lonely caretaker speak; all we hear are his genius monotone thoughts, in contrast to the vulgarly loud Mrs. Vilikka.

Actors and props disappear and reappear from shadows; and a constant narrative switches from whimsical song to sinister dialog, all the while directed at the audience. While some look to escape, others look to change;

The Animal and Children Took to the Streets is a lot of things, but ultimately a story for our times; of crushed dissent, angry students, and downtrodden zombie masses. And through flashy technology, 1927 has again given audiences something new and something old in a way they have never seen before.

Pix by Pradeep Dilrukshana