Shared Property lives up to its name in this production of Fewer Emergencies, assuming the property is psychological. They convey the eeriness of the plot perfectly. Director Ms. Newman has taken the approach of immediate theatre: closeness to the stage counters the aloofness of Martin Crimp's challenging text. The stage exists as two long platforms which intersect in the shape of an 'x'. The effect on the audience, turning their heads from one end of the would-be runway to glance at actors on the opposite end, is electric. The cast of five glow in their smirking roles.

Together as competing narrators, the five actors unravel the plot from the bottom-up, telling it as though simultaneously concocting it. They stutter out the story of a couple and their child. With startling expressiveness, they assume the roles they relate. In one scene, a narrator comes to resemble a deluded, didactic mother, overinvested in the character that she describes. Needless to say, Fewer Emergencies is a show for the secret psychoanalyst. The narrators represent voices, placed ambiguously inside your head. Low lighting and lone instrumental parts complement the uncertain feel.

The tone is at once nascent and alienating. On the one hand, the narrator fondles a glass jar like the foetus of his story, as my companion pointed out. On the other hand, the jar contains hardware fragments, highlighting the theme of modernity and lonely isolation. At a poignant moment, one character frets over exposing his comparative advantage. “They would love him," another rejoins. Still, the show can feel long and drawling while actors stammer the story. But relax; the ending is worth the intellectual endurance. After only fifty minutes, you will surely want more.