Writers: Tamm Reynolds and Nicol Parkinson
Director: Izzy Rabey
People with dwarfism have often found themselves pushed into performance, whether they want it or not. Throughout history, they have been propelled into the role of court jesters. That, and the elision of their existence with a mythological race in fantasy stories, forms one part of performer Tamm Reynolds’s hour as their drag alter ego, Midgitte Bardot.
Reynolds’s character is rejected by their subterranean people and emerges into the overground world, where everything is out of scale. For those of us of average human height, seeing the world through Midgitte’s often scatalogical perspective is a revelation, especially when we live in a world that is sized for us alone. The evening starts with a physical reminder of what it is like when the world is against you, with the height of the Purcell Room’s entry door lowered so that we must stoop to enter.
As Midgitte strides across the stage telling their story, pausing occasionally to change from one comically oversized wig to another or to sing a raucously rude cabaret number, there is a sense of a performer who has the utmost confidence in their own material. That’s especially present when Reynolds stands behind a lectern to deliver a send-up of a celebrity apology speech, skewering every predictable beat of someone trying not to be cancelled for doing something awful.
Everything is laced with multiple layers of wit, although anger and frustration are never far from the surface. The true story of Princess Eugenie hiring seven short people for her 25th birthday party is a particular standout (Eugenie danced with each of them, but any other party guest who wanted to do so had to ask the princess’s permission first). It’s a further example of that performance pigeonhole, and also plays into Reynolds’s other theme of how they, and people their height, are both sexualised and infantilised, often at the same time.
Yet all the emotion that such circumstances cause within Reynolds is not channelled outwards as anger, but with the humour and biting wit of someone who knows that to change the world, they must – to use an idiom which makes far too many sizeist assumptions – be the bigger person.
“I am a work in progress,” Midgitte says in their faux apology speech, “and clearly there is more work to be done.” Really, there is nothing to apologise for. Midgitte knows that, as do we. Watching Shooting from Below shows us that we are in the company of a performer at the top of their game.
Runs until 11 April 2026
