Devisers: Jake Walton, Lowri Jones and Hannah Mook
Stalactites and stalagmites are cave formations caused by mineral deposits as water slowly drops from the ceiling. Paper People Theatre, the trio of actors who have devised and perform The Opposite of Distance, start the show with an examination of this geological phenomenon.
A piece of water-soaked linen is strung up to drip into a bowl below as Hannah Mook educates us about stalactites and stalagmites. On the floor, Jake Walton slowly emerges from within a seemingly haphazard pile of chairs, inching across the floor towards Lowri Jones, who similarly creeps towards him. It’s visually interesting, if a little slow. The measured pace forces one to focus on the smallest of movements, and to wonder if the slams and bangs offstage are an intended part of the piece, or just late arrivals wrestling with Playhouse East’s noisy wooden tip seats.
The seriousness of the opening sequence is mirrored in a sequence lit largely by the actors’ headlamps, as the chairs – no longer haphazard but stacked into towers – support a huge gauze that reinforces the cave exploration metaphor. But there are musical diversions in between, and throughout. From a digression into the plot of Ghost, which segues into a performance of Unchained Melody, to Peggy Lee’s It’s a Good Day, the seriousness of the deliberate movements is well complemented by hints that this trio is not afraid to puncture the mood.
Some of the imagery generated by the performers is arresting, though not necessarily immediately comprehensible. Jones stands beneath the gauze, rotating and bringing it in slowly, converting it from cave roof to shroud. Meanwhile, Walton and Mook stand, push each other down, then spring up in what appears to be a series of cataclysmic burpees.
As the show progresses, the trio’s humorous tendencies begin to fully emerge. This is particularly evident as the performers take turns telling anecdotes about the journey into theatre, starting with nativity plays. As the tales quickly reach the present day, they develop a narrative about the prevalence of Shakespeare in the British theatre canon, and how it’s easier to cast movie stars in a West End production and charge £200 a seat than it is to send a little bit of money in Paper People’s Direction so that they can use fresh gauze on each production rather than have to re-darn the same piece each time.
But while The Opposite of Distance becomes about itself in its self-referential conclusion, it never feels self-indulgent while doing so. Instead, it feels like a calling card for a trio of performers who are as adept at silliness and humour as they are at the sombre end of the physical theatre spectrum.
Reviewed on 21 February 2026
