The premise of absurd theatre is that life is essentially meaningless. Anything you might understand as a rule goes out the window. AB Drama, who write, perform and tour absurd theatre, are a drama group of all ages and backgrounds, who’ve put together a tasting buffet of the absurd; nine small plates – or plays – in an hour-long medley as part of Camden Fringe. In the basement of the Libra Café, a place ‘by actors for actors’, these funny little vignettes are a pick-and-mix of the bizarre, strange, and odd, and like any selection box, each audience member will have their favourites.
There are the philosophical, existential contributions, stilted little skits where the meaning of life is turned around on repeat sentences, or an idea, like a stone in the palm of the hand. These curious mini concepts, often delivered in a deadpan way, will give little, if any, emotional satisfaction, although one might take away an idea or theory of some kind. The plays that foreground humour and comedy are the most effective at engaging the audience with lots of laughing out loud.
The Confession by Martin Szalla is located on the set of a film where the central point of action is one character being rumbled by another. The demanding director stomps in and out. And with every take and interruption strips away more of the script and dialogue and introduces random props, including a glove puppet and the eponymous Chekhov’s gun. This one is a kid’s toy, made of plastic, it flashes multi-coloured lights and makes a noise. It’s the only sound you hear in what eventually ends up as a silent scene.
The Barber’s Shop by Liam O Grady offers a bizarre encounter between a substitute barber and a regular customer. The peculiar barber has an unsettling demeanour, not someone you would wish to point a gleaming razor at your exposed neck. The conversation becomes increasingly unnerving: “What is said in the barber’s shop stays here”, insists the one wielding the sharp blade. His fixation with “engorgement” and “blood-letting” becomes something of a cause for concern for the customer, who now definitely misses his old barber.
The odd choice of device for the transition moments when one of the troupe daubs paint onto an easel – a bit like the old potter’s wheel between movie reels – is clunky and intrusive, especially when the actor looks anxiously to her right to see if the next play is ready. Appropriate – or inappropriate – music would be a simpler solution. At a time when all the existing rules seem to have broken down to the point of meaninglessness, absurd theatre actually makes sense. It’s less of a subversion and more than ever a reflection of what’s really going on in the world.
Runs until 13 August 2025
Camden Fringe runs until 24 August 2025
