Belt Up's Outland

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Like many of Belt Up's creations, Outland asks a lot from its audience: both mentally in the leaps of imagination necessary to make sense of the story being told, and physically in the occasional ways we're asked to participate. This particular narrative flips back and forth between the attempts by Alice in Wonderland author Lewis Carroll—here called by his real name, Charles—to grapple with his deteriorating mental state in late life, and the rabbit hole into which he descends during his worst hours.

It's told with astonishing dexterity, the three impressive performers flitting between roles with ease and creating a complex fictional world with real clarity. But even if you can't quite follow the multiple twists and turns of its story, there's much to love about Outland's atmosphere. Much of this ambience comes from the characteristically quirky performance space that's been created by the company, who won the Edinburgh International Festival Award in 2008. The audience sit on cushions and sofas, cramped around the walls of a beautifully-lit—but, as a result, sometimes unbearably hot—room. A bit like an eccentric grandparent's lounge, it's littered with vintage-patterned fabrics and antiquated furniture, creating an old-fashioned environment that perfectly suits the play's period setting.

Some moments jar – characters appearing from and disappearing through a wardrobe—an anachronistic wink at Narnia—is a sweet stylistic touch but adds little to the piece. Its tear-jerking last scene is also spoiled by the addition of an overly-sentimental tinkly backing track. But while these drawbacks keep Outland from reaching the heights of 2009's supreme, joyous Tartuffe—surely Belt Up's best work to date—it's nonetheless an affecting addition to their collection.