Review: Golem, 1927, HOME Manchester, 7th October 2015

If you’re one of those people who's ever wondered what would happen if you mixed The League of Gentleman, The Mighty Boosh, Black Mirror and Dr Caligari into a nutty, trippy soup, this is one for you. Hot on the heels of their previous show, which played to sell-out audiences at the National Theatre last summer, 1927 march into HOME with Golem, a simultaneously hilarious and unsettling feat of visual gluttony which will satisfy even the portliest of eyes. A timely revival of the German silent film trilogy, Golem is the story of a clay automaton who gains sentience with devastating results.  
A co-production with Salzburg festival and Theatre de la Ville Paris, Golem’s European inspirations ooze throughout, 1920s German expressionism fuses effortlessly with twists of film noir and Chaplin-style slapstick to articulate a strong polemic on the looming stride of complacency in the ever technological age. In fact the key twist on the tale is Golem’s ubiquity, with the newest upgrade being the must have item, you can’t help but sense the strong whiff of iphones. 1927 are sublime, exuding intelligence, attention to detail and timing so spot on it’s got to be bordering on indecent. 
Their set, all projections, is a show in itself; when combined with the impeccable comic timing of the five sets of feet on stage, Golem is second to none. 5/5

Review: Dead Dog in a Suitcase, HOME Manchester, 16th September 2015

With two and a bit hours of gloriously aggressive assaults to the senses; Kneehigh don’t fail to disappoint as they smash into HOME with their retelling of John Gay’s ‘The Beggars Opera’. True to form, it’s Kneehigh’s good old singing and dancing with a solid sprinkle of bawdiness, a few puppets, cross-dressing, colourful language and a couple of willies thrown in for good measure. The performers spurt pure vocal and musical gold, with standout prowling from the hilariously deranged Mrs Peachum whose bafflingly energetic performance brings to mind Cher, Mrs Lovett and my Auntie after a bottle of Pernod. However, this opera ain’t forgetting it’s Brechtian roots; the play crashes to a graphic, unsettling halt which sits uncomfortably with the toe tapping sordid sexiness of its preceding acts, a conclusion which menacingly disperses the lingering darkness that's been trapped in the floating noose the whole time.

Would I go see it again? Absolutely, do you want to go? Yes? Let’s mash it.

Spoiler alert. It doesn’t end well for the dog. 

4/5