Bog Witch- HOME, Manchester

Writer: Bryony Kimmings

Directors: Bryony Kimmings and Francesca Murray-Fuentes

Previous works by Bryony Kimmings have been heavily autobiographical; taking inspiration from real-life events.  The opening of Bog Witch suggests Kimmings might now be considering a new career in stand-up comedy as, positioned behind a microphone, she delivers innuendos about trying to fill her (metaphorical) hole. Instead her new partner persuades Kimmings a way of finding fulfilment might be a change of lifestyle, getting back to nature in a tumbledown cottage in the wilderness.

Much of Bog Witch is based around Kimmings being a fish out of water, she is urban by preference and has so little interest in the countryside she regards The Wicker Man as a documentary. Rather than being awed by a massive ancient oak tree she believes it obscures the view of the nearby fields and should be felled. Gradually Kimmings overcomes her scepticism and makes efforts to participate in her new community going so far as to accept an invitation to join the local coven. Even so she remains the doubting outsider, encouraging the audience to share her bemusement at the perceived futility of the well-meaning actions of her neighbours.

Bog Witch tackles the serious issue of the damage caused to the environment by humankind. The set, by Tom Rogers, presents a suitably desolate background with skeletal trees and stumps littering the stage. Yet the overall tone of the production, co-directed by Kimmings and Francesca Murray-Fuentes, is irreverent and self-deprecating rather than depressing. Kimmings confesses that, when confronted by environmental issues, she has developed the ability to frame her face in deep contemplation while internally she is uncaringly dancing at a disco.

Gradually, however, the nurturing side of Kimmings‘s outwardly blasé personality begins to emerge as she covets a neighbour’s new-born and fantasises about seeking comfort by burying her head in a woman’s ample bosom. As a result, when confronted by the innocent questions put forward by her son, Kimmings feels an obligation to take the matter seriously even though she wishes the discussion was not taking place in the pouring rain.

Evocative woodcut-style animations from Raf Vartanian and Nathan Fernée projected onto the rear screen move the storyline through the seasons. There is a do-it-yourself tone to the production; a stray cat adopted by Kimmings is little more than a ball of fluff with an eyeball. Likewise, Kimmings’s gradual conversion to the environmental cause is detailed in everyday terms to which it is easy to relate– she is stunned to realise she has travelled fewer air miles than the ingredients  in a supermarket sandwich and outraged English butchers buy lamb from New Zealand despite Wales being closer.

A devastating personal tragedy suffered by Kimmings motivates her to take responsibility for environmental damage but even then she uses absurd humour as a coping mechanism to shield from the loss. A collection of audience volunteers dress in marvellously ramshackle costumes, to represent species which have suffered due to humanity’s carbon footprint, and demand restitution from Kimmings as humankind’s representative. The accusations may be serious but the method of delivery is hilarious as the costumes limit the movements of the volunteers to only basic gestures of hand-wagging and aggressive finger-pointing.  Even so, their commitment is so extreme Kimmings breaks character to offer the volunteers an award for acting.

Kimmings is a perfect everyperson, struggling to overcome the sense of impotence experienced by individuals confronting such a massive problem and finding common-sense methods which, if not actually resolving the issues, at least do not make them any worse.

Bog Witch is excellent autobiographical theatre; the confessional tone paints Kimmings as initially uncaring before allowing her to find redemption and a sense of purpose resulting in a show that is inspirational and hilarious.

Runs until 28^th March 2026