Devisers: Katya de la Fuente, Amy Stephenson-Yankuba and Rio Montana Topley
Three-person company Succulent Theatre specialises in telling personal, true stories. Funeral Teeth is only their second show, but already, there are signs of something very special at work.
The general theme of the evening is loss, but that term encompasses many different aspects of life. There is the grief associated with the death of family members and friends, of course. But there is also the loss of virginity, of getting lost in the Norfolk countryside when being driven by a grandfather who refuses to consult maps, even of losing a menstrual moon cup in one’s cervix after it has been incorrectly inserted.
Succulent’s approach starts out at the provocatively bawdy end of the loss spectrum, asserting its ownership of the stage from the off. Performers Katya de la Fuente, Amy Stephenson-Yankuba, and Rio Montana Topley take turns narrating an event from their lives, with monologues often segueing into comic reconstructions. Narration and re-enactment mesh smoothly with choreographed movements and dance breaks, allowing the individual scenes and stories to come together.
The first few scenes are clearly designed to grab our attention and see how the women are prepared to laugh at themselves even as they expose some of their most cringeworthy moments. It does raise the worry that the whole show will comprise simulated sex and talk of teenage rumblings. More importantly, those sketches enable us to connect with the performers so that as their later stories travel to darker places, we stand with them. From the unexpected loss of a beloved stepfather to talk of self-harming and suicidal ideation, there is a fearlessness with which the trio delves into their past traumas.
And yet, there is always lightness present. Sometimes, that comes from the stories, including one about how a funeral is derailed by a coffin too large for its intended place of rest. At other times, we are left sitting with some heaviness – such as a tale of confronting one’s sexual attacker, only to find him more concerned about how many women have accused him of the same thing – before breaking into another piece of dance. Such transitions are never glib and are always well-judged. These things have happened, Funeral Teeth tells us, and it’s okay to acknowledge how they shape us – but they do not define who we become.
In many ways, this is the quintessential fringe show, recycling personal hardships to create entertainment that will satiate the performers’ need for attention. Rarely is it done this well or with such warmth, though.
The storytelling at work is so self-assured that it feels like Succulent Theatre is a much more established company than it is. Quite how many shows in its future will be able to be constructed around the company’s own lived experiences is debatable, but one thing is not in doubt: as writers and performers, this is a trio to look out for.
Continues until 16 November 2024
