The first “snatch” (I assume), started in the foyer as the audience waited to enter the theatre. A woman dressed as a pirate shouted a monologue and guided the audience onto the ship (i.e., inside the theatre). The stage was decorated with a string of umbrellas hanging wall-to-wall and a bizarre squid-like object suspended over the stage. The lighting gave the theatre a noir-like atmosphere and set the scene for just over two-hours of short plays – all of them unusual, some serious, and most of them, hilariously funny.

Highlights included: Caitlin Crowley’s “The Spirit of Violet Crumble” where the theatre was transformed into a funeral procession, and the outrageous Violet Crumble (i.e., a bearded man, Jack McLardie, in a silk dress), commented on the funeral and insulted the audience members (or the mourners). This was followed by, Tony Avard’s “Reflections on a Train”, a dialogue between two ex-classmates that subtly examined male insecurities and the lasting impact of homophobia. Jemma van Loenen’s “Embrace” was one of the longer pieces in the production, which told the story of a socially inept man, Raymond, and his awkward romance with a woman who moves in next door; the quirky love story was narrated live and images were projected on the wall to support the story. PoisE’n, a sexually charged dance trio, were unexpected, but in retrospect seemed to compliment the absurdity of the overall production quite well.

Mick Mezza’s “Good Boys, Bad Boys” was perhaps the strongest piece in the production, a ridiculous cop drama that left many audience members laughing hysterically well after its conclusion. Overall, Snatches was a wonderfully absurd evening of short performance pieces.

A more “serious” slideshow on the history of theatre screens in the background as Clown struggles to make sense of it with her quirky analysis. Clown finds odd ways to explore the items, to the point where she misreads the instructions on a jar of Nutella and then begins spreading it all over her arms, legs and face. Another example is Clown attempting to eat a full English breakfast (i.e., an English breakfast teabag). As far as I can recall, this pretty sums up the remainder of the performance.

As the forty-minute solo show progressed I found myself becoming increasingly disengaged. Cooper’s Clown was not without a sense of charisma, though much of the humor tended to enter the realm of the irrelevant. I felt that Cooper’s performance could have benefited from a more conventional structure, as each fragment’s position within the whole seemed arbitrary and nonsensical.

I have no doubts about Cooper’s talents as a performer. However, much of the substance in Clown Lights Stage (i.e., the writing) seemed to fall short and borderline on being safe and obvious. Cooper’s Clown didn’t offend me and that was the problem.

At the Sans Hotel begins with a Nicola Gunn inhabiting a quirky French character, Sophie, who asks the audience to fill out invisible questionnaires (with real pencils, no less). Sophie then explains, somewhat manically, why Nicola Gunn was unable to make it to the night’s performance. What follows is almost indescribable; Gunn moves the audience through a series of dark, disturbing and often-hysterically funny visions of hopelessness, identity and theatre making itself. Gunn’s self-interrogation is constant, to the point where Sophie deconstructs the performance on a blackboard, explaining the themes, metaphors and the dramatic arc.

As the performance progresses the visions become increasingly darker and more intimate. Sophie’s uncomfortable silences allow the audience to truly feel her isolation. In one of the most hilariously awkward moments, she invites an audience member to play musical chairs with her. After tricking the unsuspecting male into losing the game, she viciously ridicules him as he waits to leave the stage. The dark humor in this work is entwined with moments of terrifying clarity. The audience is given glimpses into Sophie’s haunted psyche as she frantically interrogates herself and Gunn as her creator. Gunn’s ability to find humor in the darkest, most-disturbing places is one of the performance’s strongest features.

Attempting to fully explain or outline this performance is impossible. However, a potential audience member can expect a thoughtful interrogation of identity, consciousness and the nature of truth. Gunn endlessly questions what it means to know oneself and how immensely difficult life can be. Nicola Gunn’s performance is inspired in this highly imaginative and darkly humorous work. A must see.

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