Speedy Mustard - by Marty Murphy - SBW Stables Theatre - 27/04/06

Ethan Switch - Saturday, 29 April 2006 - Print Version

Ten minutes before the thrusting rush of people, the box office of the Stables Theatre tends to one man looking rather out of stride. Calmly and cooly the situation resolves itself in those dead minutes before the throng. Situation taking care of itself like the self serving asexual star fish.

Questions on burlesque theatre kill a few seconds and make for tentative and wary glances. Lesbians are on the loose and the people are reading about the adventures with a barcode and price tag in the corner. Yet, there remains no one behind any sort of counter collecting the toll. Onward and upward with vague suggestions.

The elderly and infirm who take the first option hold up the entire production. With steep steps in the dark of the Stables, this means everybody takes a long pause on each step. Long enough to send a few swaying back down from the incline. Treacherous and tricky the climb is, treacherous and tricky. Never mind the one foot drop between the first row and the stage, make the trip up first.

Nobody has a glass in hand nor sport similar breath mints, and yet, before the darkness of the lone microphone on the stage, laughter is raucous. Laughter that prebeats the prologue as Death presents Speedy Mustard to the crowd.

Audience participation and reception doesn't get any more prescient than this. More guffaws and hyucks than the entire vocabulary of Goofy dog up the chance to hear the merits of style on their own. Marty Murphy crafts such a meandering and strange tale that is nothing but strict awe in the events that unfold. Unfortunately, not all minds are made to hold the same.

Murphy does at least channel various characters with ease that it at times renders his speech unto the netherworlds of poltergeists and other such body invading spectres.

Ethan Switch