February 23, 2022

Breakfast Time

If you've ever cohabitated you know breakfast is contentious and often ends in an argument  - we're hungry and we need coffee, we're not rational. It's worse when your opponent is a virtual stranger, requiring politeness; in the case of Breakfast Time we're not talking about last nights hook up (yours or your flatmates), but a newly minted step sibling.

It's awkward and its honest and it's beautifully choreographed. The first part of the evening is a video depicting two young adults making breakfast together; despite the tension, it's almost boring. The sound quality isn't great so several lines go unheard, there is a strange bit where two lines are repeated; it's unclear whether this is intentional or misedited. There is a lot of silence and voices covered by the sounds of clanging kitchenware.

The second part of the evening is a live show. The same two characters reunite to dance their breakfast preparation in front of the audience, if you have not eaten before the show this is especially painful. We surmised they purposely excluded garlic and bacon from the recipe as the smell would fill the theatre. You'll notice the subtle differences in acting choices, the progression from film to theatre. They deconstruct their first interaction, who said what, the undertones, the implications, their backstories and motivations. They feel more like siblings than strangers, they have their own history. It's never established how much time has passed or what has occurred in the interim, it felt like perhaps something significant, but I could be completely misreading the situation and it's literally a breakdown of the video we've just watched.

Performances: 22-24 February, 6pm

Tickets: $20

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