Beach Party (We Thought We Heard Fireworks)

All of life can be found on the beach. And it’s ripe for humour. At least, that’s the idea behind this devised piece from 38 Buried Roses, a company formed from the European Theatre Arts course at Rose Bruford College of Theatre & Performance.

As their first show following graduation, Beach Party is fine. The 14-strong ensemble, who we first encounter in swimwear on towels on the floor, clearly relish the stereotypes they’re sending up. We get ‘lads on tour’, a gaggle of old ladies and a selfie-happy couple.

Filtered through an array of theatrical styles, there’s no narrative as such, just fragments of comedy that send up the sunscreen-slathered types who sigh, sweat or bumble across the stage, to a backing of guitars and a violin played by cast members.

It’s as slick and shiny as a beach ball, but also as empty as one, coming across less as a thought-out piece and more as an excuse for a bunch of talented actors to show what they can do. The character sketches are funny but forgettable.

The show bounces harmlessly and weightlessly along – an experiment in comic form and aesthetic that kicks a few cool ideas around and has fun along the way. But even at half an hour in length, this creative muscle flexing feels drawn out.

Beach Party is still a work in progress and will undoubtedly change and grow. Right now, though, what’s on stage feels like a riff in search of a song. And a slightly self-satisfied one at that.