Writer and Director: Trine Falch
Norwegian stage company Susie Wang have acquired a reputation as purveyors of theatrical horror. Nothing exemplifies this more than Burnt Toast, a show that they premiered in 2020 and which is in London for just two days.
We are presented with a crimson-carpeted hotel lobby, a receptionist’s desk flanked by two gold elevator doors. There’s a shabby opulence to the whole thing. The symmetry of the set and the deliberate, pause-laden, off-beat dialogue give an initial impression of a Wes Anderson movie. However, we quickly head more towards Lynch or Cronenberg territory.
All the cast, especially Julie Solberg’s receptionist Betty, talk in exaggerated, slurring Deep South American accents that add to the sense of surrealism. So too do Kim Atle Hansen’s hotel guest, Danny Iwas, permanently handcuffed to a mysterious suitcase, and Mona Solhaug’s breastfeeding mother, Violet.
There is a sense of absurd comedy around this main trio’s interactions, as Danny begins conversing with Violet as she nurses her baby. What might initially start as an awkward romcom meet-cute starts to take weirder turns, as Danny starts to ingest unspecified material from his briefcase (in which, he suggests, sit the remains of his mother) and displays an odd fascination with Violet’s body – specifically, the scar she carries from her recent C-section.
What proceeds from there is a mix of the macabre and downright disturbing. A daringly effective portrayal of a malfunctioning lift results in an amputation, resulting in stage blood squirting in multiple directions and over several actors. In another sequence, Violet’s baby is deemed to be pregnant and receives her own C-section to deliver a smaller baby, which itself is pregnant, resulting in a series of embryonic Matryoshka dolls.
The piece’s most climactic moment comes as Danny first attempts to climb inside Violet’s own caesarean scar, only to be pulled out of there by the mother who has emerged from his briefcase. But as the residents of the hotel are all consumed by this mysterious force, what should be a stunning coup de théâtre is dramatically lessened by the way in which Susie Wang’s set sits within Battersea Arts Centre’s Grand Hall.
The show’s climactic final half hour takes place at the front of the stage, ensuring it is obscured to all but the first few rows. Beyond that, the bloody, horrific action is all too easily obscured by other audience members’ heads, especially those who stretch and lean to try and get a better look for themselves, blithely unaware they are making the tableau even more invisible to the people in the rows behind.
That is a shame, because what is glimpsed between the silhouettes of other audience members is a great combination of gory, silly, horrible and hilarious stage horror. With a clear line of sight to the whole show, Burnt Toast would be one of the most memorable theatrical experiences in a long while.
Continues until 23 April 2025
The Reviews Hub Score
Surreal horror
