SLIME

At the Russian Hall until June 24, 2018
Tickets from $20 at tickets.theatrewire.com

Posted June 17, 2018

“What the fuck?” If I had to hear that one more time during SLIME I might have risked crossing the performance area – mid-show – and walked out of the Russian Hall. I am not averse to the F-word; I probably use it far too much myself but enough is enough. And actor Mason Temple is called ‘Asshole’ repeatedly throughout although in the programme he is referred to as Ev. What?

Written by Bryony Lavery and directed by Kendra Fanconi for The Only Animal, SLIME starts off excitingly: a huge sheet of clear plastic, held aloft by the cast, floods liked a tsunami into the performance area from behind two rows of the audience. It surges up and down tossing plastic water bottles and Styrofoam cups into the air before coming to rest on the floor. Wow.

This action is repeated several more times and, lit by William Hales, it’s really cool.

SLIME is about six characters and/or animals attending a world conference on slime, a “gelatinous goo” that is creeping over the ocean killing everything in its wake. Each delegate to the conference has a speciality: birds or fish or marine mammals, and they speak “bird” or “fish” or “seal” and some, but not all, are costumed accordingly. Godfrey, also known as God (Teo Saefkow) is fish guy and gorgeously costumed by April Viczko in lime green Spandex tights and a flesh-coloured tank top with spots like scales on it. But marine mammal gal Barb (Edwardine van Wyk) is just wearing a t-shirt and trousers. Bird girl Ola (Lisa Baran) wears a headdress of feathers sort of like Viking horns, a skimpy white dress and pink furry boots. Coco (Anais West) wear tight little jeans. Pedro Chamale (Frezzie) wears a jacket with panels of bright red and green plaid. So, the costuming doesn’t appear to be consistent. Why not?

I ‘get’ the threat that’s implied in SLIME. I live on Indian Arm across from Kinder Morgan’s Westridge Terminal. It’s not gelatinous goo but diluted bitumen that’s the risk. But whatever it is, it will kill stuff. So, I’m onside with SLIME’s message – but unclear on what playwright Lavery is trying to say. It seems at the end that despite what Coco says earlier, “Slime, this motherfucker, this is war,” slime is just another creature and we have to learn to communicate with it. Or did I completely miss the point?

There are some lovely effects most notably in the character of Dumbo (Sophia Wolfe), politically incorrectly named because Dumbo’s mute and signs everything. Wolfe has a dancer’s grace and the scene with her struggling underneath a plastic net until she dies (I think), is stunning.

Set, props and puppet design are by Shizuka Kai who creates amazing effects with bundled up or crunched up clear plastic: a great polar bear with a black nose growls menacingly, fish swim and bird fly by (manipulated on sticks by the cast) and a brown plastic-bag seal takes to the waves.

There’s romance, I think, between Coco and Asshole, and Barb and Ola but I could be wrong.

I completely missed the boat on SLIME. As someone deeply concerned about climate change, I really hoped for something to give me hope or, at the very least, to indicate the urgency of the planet’s plight. I suppose there might be optimism at the end of SLIME. Perhaps Dumbo starts to communicate and maybe that’s a metaphor for waking the world up?

Unfortunately, SLIME left me all at sea.