Review: BIG FINISH, Battersea Arts Centre

Absurdist quintet Figs In Wigs return to preach an apocalyptic gospel - but is this the beginning of the end or the end of the beginning?

The five-strong cult collective formed by Ray Gammon, Suzanna Hurst, Sarah Moore, Rachel Porter and Alice Roots has been around for over a decade, producing in that time a baker’s dozen of witty works which often seem to teeter on the precipice of insanity while covering Big Topics. Their last outing Little Wimmin, for example, featured a sarcastic Christmas tree, phallic ice-sculptures and an avalanche of puns as they pithily deconstructed the gender dynamics behind Louisa May Alcott’s book.

Like many other darlings of the cabaret scene like Bourgeois & Maurice and The Lipsinkers, Figs In Wigs happily defy being boxed into a single genre by embracing so many of them. Every show sees them expertly blend performance art, costuming, choreography, clowning and comedy into an increasingly bizarre mix. This, their 14th and possibly final work, sees them extolling the evolutionary virtues of crabs, driving around in a golf cart while disguised as dinosaurs and putting the entire audience off ever buying seaside ice creams. By the end, they are dumping head-sized lumps of foam onto the stage and then gloriously improvising a dance routine among the suds.

The title itself points to two major crises. To wit, the world as we know it is dying and the UK arts scene is dying even faster. It has taken four years to get Big Finish to the stage and, in the meantime, these topics have become simultaneously more urgent and less impactful. Temperature and weather records are being broken too frequently to register as alarming while international climate disasters compete for headlines with reality TV stars and talent contests. 

Similarly, the state of the arts is not new news: some of the most famous theatres and companies are having to make do with markedly less public subsidy, have been cut off entirely or told to move out of London. Further down the food chain, spaces and events like VAULT Festival are shutting down due to a lack of funding. Not all of the venues named by the Figs, though, are as dead as they state: Soho Estates have told me that Madame Jojo’s is due to return this spring while the team behind Haggerston hotspot The Glory shut up shop at the end of January and opened up the following week in Dalston at The Divine. 

Every last drop of humour from each segment is squeezed out, for better and worse. Their lampooning of the string orchestra aboard the Titanic playing out as the ship sinks is dragged out wonderfully; just as the band are ready to pack up and meet their fate, one or other of the musicians pulls them back for yet another deliberately painful rendition of Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On”.

A hilarious reading of the Figs’ last will and testament sees them leave their worldly goods to a never-ending list of famous names including their original song “Astrology Bingo” to the ENO, a fire extinguisher to the Battersea Arts Centre and a tarpaulin to The Globe Theatre (“because they need it”). On the flip side, there’s an overlong Q&A with the venue’s executive director and deputy CEO Amy Vaughn which merrily mocks the self-congratulatory and scripted nature of these interviews but takes far too long to wrap up.

Like Spymonkey (another longstanding group that combines clowning with absurdity), these Figs are at a self-declared junction in their careers. The death of one member and the departure of another halved the former company. This forced them to take a step back and then a leap forward with The Frogs, a show in which they faced head on the grief in their hearts. Big Finish doesn’t have that same level of emotional exploration; instead, it acts more to underline their achievements to date and as a jumping off point for wherever they go next. I doubt this is the last we will see of Figs In Wigs but - as ever - I expect the wait will be worthwhile.

Figs In Wigs' Big Finish continues at Battersea Arts Centre until 27 March.

Photo credit: Rosie Powell

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