Review: Pandora, Coronet Theatre

I’ve always found theatre critics who quote their plus-ones unbearably smug. I swore I’d never do it, preferring to uphold the tortured critic’s pretence of being bitter, aloof, and alone. But needs must, and I feel duty-bound to share the verdict of the glamorous, sophisticated companion who joined me at The Coronet Theatre for I Gordi & Teatro Franco Parenti’s Pandora. There were, she noted, too many penises involved. Too many is an interesting qualifier, implying one or two would have been acceptable. A generous stance. Personally, I wasn’t remotely shocked by the male nudity; I was just baffled briefly. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been. Pandora is unmistakably European. It has none of the repressed sensibilities that English artists have inherited from our prim drawing rooms and properly trousered plays. 

Fearlessly devised by a talented Italian cast under the direction of Riccardo Pippa, this import is precisely as advertised: a series of vignettes set in a public lavatory.  On paper, toilets do make a great location for drama. Navigating loos is a universal human experience. They are liminal places between the public and private. Dramatic things happen there. Good, bad, funny, happy, and sad. In reality, however, the theatrical experience is a little one-note. Once the raised eyebrows subside, we never really move on from the initial premise. 

The six performers do, to be fair, skilfully cycle through an exhausting array of characters. A favourite of mine spent thirty seconds with her head in a shopping bag, screaming. We’ve all been there. However, others, including a newly married couple and an awkward interloper, seem to be on stage for an eternity. Glamorous ballroom dance partners nip in seemingly mid-performance. The woman pragmatically pees where she can. The man, still preening and prancing, has vomited all over his shirt.  Naked cyclists and friends, owners of the aforementioned genitalia, have time to sing a couple of verses of a catchy Italian folk song before departing. Everyone is fully rounded and believable except, perhaps, an elderly gent who arrives near the end. The only character in a full mask, he gleefully deliberately misses the urinals and sprays the set. A step too far? It’s the only moment that felt like a stunt rather than something heartfelt and considered.  

Fear not; there are beautifully crafted moments elsewhere. Countless wordless gestures land with emotional weight, and expert comic timing wrings out plenty of nervous laughter from the audience. Genuine belly laughs, however, are few and far between. Are toilets actually that funny? Soiled pants? Grubby cubicles? Best not to think about it too long. Occasionally, the threat of violence hangs over proceedings. A drug dealer threatens a young nightclubber wobbling on ridiculous heels. A risky offer of a gay hook-up is bluntly refused. One woman simply falls out of a stall unconscious. These moments of menace are left unresolved. All part of life’s rich palette, of course. However, I’m sure I’m not the only person who shifted in their seat uncomfortably, unhappy to simply move on to the next gag. 

There is nothing you would call a plot, but there is a neat circularity to proceedings. The same character we meet in scene one returns at the finale and enjoys a victory of sorts. We remember and root for him, but it’s a mildly satisfying end when it feels we need something more redemptive. We’ve spent an hour in the gutter, do we not get a chance to look at the stars?

Concept & Directed by: Riccardo Pippa
Created by & Starring: Claudia Caldarano, Cecilia Campani, Giovani Longhin, Andrea Panigatti, Sandro Pivotti, Matteo Vitanza
Set Design by: Anna Maddalena Cingi
Sound Design by: Luca De Marinis
Lighting Design by: Paolo Casati
Technical Manager: Alice Colla

Pandora plays at The Coronet Theatre until Sunday 2 March.