Bruce

Never has an oversized yellow sponge, the kind usually found washing suburban cars on lazy Saturday afternoons, been so cinematic.

Bruce begins breathlessly: a space station, separated lovers, an unexpected birth, impending doom. All this in the first few moments, all told via a charismatic piece of rubber foam, adorned with halved ping pong balls for eyes, and two puppeteers. This is the story of Bruce, a simple bit of sponge with an extraordinary tale of love, loss, redemption and cosmos-skewering wormholes.

This is all in an hour’s work for the Australian company, The Last Great Hunt, who are gaining a reputation of being the Pixar of puppetry. Their last two shows, The Adventures of Alvin Sputnik and It’s Dark Outside, took a seemingly childlike medium and fused it with high-concept ideas and heartbreaking storytelling.

Bruce draws from the same magic well. It is a madcap genre mash-up of cop shows, drink-sodden melodrama, and Christopher Nolan’s space-time-bending Interstellar, told with goggle-eyed joy and humour.

Such is the skill involved that at no point do the bare bones of what’s on stage—two men in black body suits holding a cleaning product—intrude upon the rich theatrical tapestry they lay out in your imagination. They are alchemists more than puppeteers.

At its heart—aside from polyurethane—is a finely crafted looping narrative. Lines that appear throwaway gags return later with added poignancy. It folds in upon itself, elevating Bruce’s tale from mere screwball to something more reflective and uplifting. Who knew you could take life lessons from a bit of foam? Go see, learn, laugh and love.