Before Us

121329 original

This hour of left-field storytelling should be filmed and buried in a time capsule. Not because it's particularly good, but for its epoch-defining qualities. Before Us's aesthetic is so overtly populist as to embody the worst excesses of our time. Those not paying full attention to the action on stage would be forgiven for thinking they were sitting in on a brainstorming session for an advert promoting a phone service provider or current savings account.

The show employs the sort of achingly twee tactics most commonly associated with evil multinationals intent on diverting our attention from the rampant greed and dehumanisation they inflict upon the world – only Stuart Bowden's goals seem comparatively benign. The worst he could be accused of is attempting to woo us with a lazy assortment of ready-made genre tropes.

Beard and thick-rimmed glasses? Check. Infantilisation of audiences through the use of cutesy, child-like language and imagery? You bet. Conveying a superficial sense of wonder toward the world and its inhabitants? Mmm hmm. A soundtrack of crepuscular nu-folk music? Naturally. Audience participation intended to engender a sense of kinship with your neighbours, but which is actually quite forced and not entirely consensual? Well, you get the idea.

The eccentric qualities of Bowden and his character (the last of an undiscovered species of insect dressed awkwardly in a billowing green sack) find favour with many in the room tonight, but generally are too studied and self-aware. Such affected eccentricity can be pleasing in small doses, but isn't enough to sustain an entire show.