Review: DRIVE YOUR PLOW OVER THE BONES OF THE DEAD, Barbican Theatre

Complicité has the tenacity and the protean creativity to forge theatre that reaches out to its audience and grabs them by the collar. World renowned for their theatrical panache, a curiously mesmerising cocktail of clowning and firework-like physicality, Simon McBurney has left their flare at the concrete doors of the Barbican. Why?

An eco-feminist homespun murder mystery traversing the intersection of feminism and ecology, and woven with iconoclastic playfulness, Olga Tokarczuk's critically acclaimed novel firmly pinpoints environmental degradation on a distinctly masculine desire for destruction. When men in her local hunting club meet oddly animal related fates, the geriatric Janina, whose hobbies include translating William Blake and caring for animals, sets out to investigate.

Through her eccentric eyes we see her world of rag tag oddballs and lost souls, each stranded in their own concentric realities. The ten strong cast (sadly one down due to Kathryn Hunter's illness) multirole as a kaleidoscopic rogues' gallery of characters, each one caricatured with gorgeously idiosyncratic charm, theatrical icebergs hiding rich depth beneath each gesture.

Alongside humans, we watch the cast shapeshift with childlike awe as they morph into an entire zoo's worth of animals. It's the lovingly observed psychology underneath each movement, a dog's infinite curiosity throwing a wide-eyed gaze towards its owner, or a fox's nonchalant stride, that renders the company's whimsical brilliance possible.

But don't go in expecting the twee charm of a Poland-set Agatha Christie. This is a philosophical thriller (if that isn't an oxymoron) that digs its teeth deep into the novel's violent undercurrents. Yet its teeth are not sharp enough to take a full bite.

Astrology is a central thread of Janina's story. She decodes horoscopic clues trying to piece together the astronomical puzzle, an invitation for McBurney to tilt the production's gaze upwards. Celestial imagery abounds, a sea of projections illuminate the room with diagrams and displays of planetary symbols and signs inviting us to contemplate our insignificance in an endless universe.

Here's the rub. Diminishing returns set in after each wave of cosmic imagery washes away. We are left with a hunger for something more theatrically meaty. It's probably an irksome consequence of director Simon McBurney's over-emphasis on meditative metaphysical musings over dramatic dynamism. Amanda Hadingue stepping in bravely to cover Janina last minute, due to Hunter's departure, has no doubt sapped some of the production's energy, although the fault lies with something more fundamental.

Sure, there is plenty of pensive discussion of climate change, patriarchy, and vegetarianism stretched over the three-hour run time. But it's hard to ignore the overly ponderous discord that emerges between what are explosive themes on paper and the somewhat sedated staging. One cannot help but feel the audience have been let off too easily for a play with existential catastrophe and environmental destruction at its core.

Drive Your Plow Over The Bones Of The Dead plays at the Barbican Theatre until 1 April

Photo Credit: Alex Brenner

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