June 12, 2011
The show, How to Climb Mount Everest, might alternatively have been called ‘How to put on a funny, inventive, novel, engaging and playful hour of entertainment’, for that is what the slightly damp but ultimately heart warmed audience, gathered in the intimate surroundings of the Pegasus Theatre, were treated to. After a reclusive day of hiding from the hideous weather, venturing into the downpour (an expedition almost as perilous and challenging as scaling the world’s highest peak), turned out to be a truly rewarding experience.
Nusret Ozguc and Sam Gibbs, the creator of the piece, perform a cleverly crafted double act, gently jostling for presence on stage, by turns aiding and obstructing the story’s development, using each other as props and combining their miming and vocal abilities to lead the audience through a series of mini sketches, that culminate in, you guessed it, the climb to the top of Mount Everest….or the somewhat roughly stitched and torn white sheet, suspended at an angle between an armchair and an Ikea lamp.
Therein lies the real creativity and wonder of the play. Through the use of basic props, a slightly more sophisticatedly crafted puppet, and very effective, although quite crude mime and manmade sound effects, we were taken from the sewers of the Pegasus Theatre, into the reality of the studio, through a whirlwind history of life to death, via an unidentified urban sprawl, our hero’s insalubrious rented flat, an office, a placeless training centre, briefly passing base camp, into the frozen wilderness and to the top of the world.
Most ingeniously, and done to great comic effect, the actors playing the parts of inanimate objects and imbuing them with human characteristics, raised some of the biggest laughs of the performance. It makes sense that a radio alarm clock being tuned emits such a squealing din, when you realise it's having its nipple painfully twisted; and if you were a photocopier, you would probably come to a shuddering, final demise, if you had a piece of paper ripped brutally from your intestines, having previously purged countless still warm sheets from your……anyway, you get the idea.
The show was far from slick, but the actors’ sense of playful enthusiasm, their physical agility, engagement with the audience and each other, and the occasional bit of quick and witty improvisation, kept it fresh, fast and funny. Quirky too. I still have no idea why Sam Gibbs adopted a random French accent when speaking directly to the audience – but it worked!
There’s no doubt, judging by the large amount of noise created by a relatively small but clearly very appreciative audience, at the end, that all present were captivated and delighted by How to Climb Mount Everest. Much to the amusement of audience and actors alike, one very young onlooker made it quite clear just how engaging and accessible it was, by spontaneously mimicking the ‘caw caw’ noise of the puppet bird. And, as if in acknowledgement of the light-hearted, spirit-lifting ambiance of the evening, as we left the theatre even the rain had stopped!
Nusret Ozguc and Sam Gibbs, the creator of the piece, perform a cleverly crafted double act, gently jostling for presence on stage, by turns aiding and obstructing the story’s development, using each other as props and combining their miming and vocal abilities to lead the audience through a series of mini sketches, that culminate in, you guessed it, the climb to the top of Mount Everest….or the somewhat roughly stitched and torn white sheet, suspended at an angle between an armchair and an Ikea lamp.
Therein lies the real creativity and wonder of the play. Through the use of basic props, a slightly more sophisticatedly crafted puppet, and very effective, although quite crude mime and manmade sound effects, we were taken from the sewers of the Pegasus Theatre, into the reality of the studio, through a whirlwind history of life to death, via an unidentified urban sprawl, our hero’s insalubrious rented flat, an office, a placeless training centre, briefly passing base camp, into the frozen wilderness and to the top of the world.
Most ingeniously, and done to great comic effect, the actors playing the parts of inanimate objects and imbuing them with human characteristics, raised some of the biggest laughs of the performance. It makes sense that a radio alarm clock being tuned emits such a squealing din, when you realise it's having its nipple painfully twisted; and if you were a photocopier, you would probably come to a shuddering, final demise, if you had a piece of paper ripped brutally from your intestines, having previously purged countless still warm sheets from your……anyway, you get the idea.
The show was far from slick, but the actors’ sense of playful enthusiasm, their physical agility, engagement with the audience and each other, and the occasional bit of quick and witty improvisation, kept it fresh, fast and funny. Quirky too. I still have no idea why Sam Gibbs adopted a random French accent when speaking directly to the audience – but it worked!
There’s no doubt, judging by the large amount of noise created by a relatively small but clearly very appreciative audience, at the end, that all present were captivated and delighted by How to Climb Mount Everest. Much to the amusement of audience and actors alike, one very young onlooker made it quite clear just how engaging and accessible it was, by spontaneously mimicking the ‘caw caw’ noise of the puppet bird. And, as if in acknowledgement of the light-hearted, spirit-lifting ambiance of the evening, as we left the theatre even the rain had stopped!