Flesh physical theatre review: Uncomfortably funny
This wordless double act mines death, desire and family dysfunction for Beckettian laughs
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In a Fringe where ‘dark comedy’ has become a buzzword, Flesh plunges into really awkward, uncomfortable laughter. In a style that echoes Chris Morris’ Jam, this series of extended sketches finds humour in death, thwarted desire, facial mutilation and family rivalry.
The company takes both their physical comedy and material seriously. They mine the awkward tension of Samuel Beckett, slowly setting up the scenario and allowing it to spiral towards a bleak punchline. A man at a parent’s deathbed misses his final moments because he can’t access his phone quickly enough; a memorial to a departed mother is disrupted as her children squabble over the ashes; an adventure into virtual reality fantasy traumatises the player. Each sketch is performed with a languid grandeur, conjuring the uncanny from the mundane.
Sophie Linsmaux and Aurelio Mergola eschew words for gestures and nuanced physicality, unafraid to let the action drag out until the frustration provokes nervous giggles. From the first moments, the mood is set, serene, sardonic and satirical, finding comedy in small details while allowing a sense of foreboding to fester.
The most dynamic routine, in which a woman enters a virtual reality world that takes her into the heart of the film Titanic, parodies both the eroticism of the source and the danger of allowing fantasy to replace reality, while acknowledging the existence of the emotions it provokes. Minimal yet expansive, it speaks of existential and body horror through mime and silence, a chilling reminder of theatre’s capacity to exploit the uncanny.
Flesh, Zoo Southside, until 16 August, 10.30am; picture: Hubert Amiel.