Stuffed is a tale of food banks, putting out fires and the non-reaction of people in power to an all-encompassing crisis. Imagine a house burning to the ground and all the firefighters who are called to the scene do is watch on with a wry smile and say, “what a shame.” This is how Stuffed interprets food banks and the crisis of poverty and hunger in this country. They do not want the issue to be dismissed as just a shame by either their audience or those with the power to do something about it.
To achieve this, the show is loud from the start, grabbing your attention with jarring transitions, bassy rave music, audio from interviews and an impending sense of dread; they scream their point at you from the top of their lungs – they will be heard. Where the show falls down is, despite all the impressive stagecraft, lighting, and sound work, it feels like a bit of a mess – it incorporates so many muddled ideas and styles that it is difficult to fully appreciate the admirable values of the show. The show is at its best when it’s loud, in your face and physical – when it incorporates this feeling of panic and burning – but in certain slower clown sections, including one about pigeons and one about a woman’s large intestine spilling out, the metaphor is telegraphed so plainly that the significance of the scene is exhausted long before they decide to move on.
The humour in Stuffed humour can be subtly dark and clever, but it can also feel kind of out of place and trite. In the end, you’re left disappointed by its lack of cohesion, but for its impressive spectacle and the immediacy of its message, it’s worth a watch for the politically inclined.
Stuffed, 14.25, Pleasance, until August 26
