Writer: Chris Thorpe
Director: Claire O’Reilly
Chris Thorpe’s one-person show in the Theatre Upstairs at the Royal Court is a passionate, compassionate, timely warning of the impending threat posed by nuclear weapons.
Chris Thorpe’s one-person show in the Theatre Upstairs at the Royal Court is a chatty, warm evening in the company of a room full of strangers who are just friends that haven’t met yet, where they can discuss biscuits and Northern Soul under Chris’s benevolent gaze, as he gently, warmly, induces confessions and imparts wisdom. Chris Thorpe is disarmingly ordinary. Chris Thorpe does what he does with a performative skill that is off-the-charts brilliant.
It is panto season in London, and everywhere comedians are employing years of experience and expert stage-craft to get audiences to participate. In the intimate playing space, Thorpe manages the same engagement with similar effect, but he is getting his audience to attend to dire, dire warnings of serious global disaster, not trying to warn Aladdin that Abanazar is coming up behind him. His warnings are serious, the impending calamity is real, and the audience attends, understands, and has a splendid evening sharing biscuits and playlists to boot. It is an extraordinary evening of theatre.
The staging is a large carpet (previously employed in a Caryl Churchill play, apparently), a desk with a laptop and a kettle, and a large screen upstage. There is also an electric piano stage-left, which Thorpe points out and threatens to play. He does play it sometimes, but it’s a tuneful, easy-to-listen-to experience, and no trigger warnings are necessary. Around this casual space, Thorpe ambles and engages, asks people about their favourite bands, quizzes them on geography, and every so often punches in the facts about nuclear proliferation. For a performance piece discussing disarmament, it is in fact very disarming.
And the facts are staggering and the implications are terrifying, and Chris Thorpe brings that home, and the show is very very funny and very very friendly and warm. Horror and biscuits for an hour and a bit. It’s a potent combination.
Runs until 16 December 2023