Review: The Society for New Cuisine, Omnibus Theatre

Entering the Omnibus Theatre it’s clear The Society for New Cuisine is no ordinary production. The space is dark, hazy and edgy, with a decided thrill in the air. Traverse staging pens in an assortment of lamps, technological equipment and chairs, standing or upturned on the floor: a kind of haphazard man cave. At the end sits a lonely figure, his hoodie covering his head and greying him out against a backdrop of silently screaming mouths, while a dull, persistent background noise drones. All rules are off as we’re about to be immersed in an extraordinary, twisted tale challenging societal burdens and capitalism, whilst revealing male mental health trauma.

Chris Fung‘s debut play is highly impressive, both in his writing and the form of performance. He plays a Man struggling with accumulated pressures – from breakups and bereavement to cultural expectations and work difficulties – and he not only relates the tale brilliantly as a superbly engaging storyteller, but plunges the audience viscerally into the warping, unstable mental condition of the character.

The Man is a vivacious, animated personality, initially quite playful as he describes the people in his life. We laugh at his mum back in China, nagging him to be a lawyer and to fulfil familial obligations, and are intrigued by girlfriends who test him. But throughout there’s temporal shifting as snippets of information are grafted together, seemingly out of sequence, until deadly serious issues ultimately push their way to the surface. The time is out of joint.

The warping of his world is played out literally, with Fung using microphones to distort voices and stories, creating an unsettling sense that something is awry. A recurring, pulsing heartbeat underscores the character’s stress. Fung gives himself masses to do, frenetically ricocheting back and forth along the traverse space, switching lamps on and off, operating projectors and a variety of speakers and microphones in a sharply synchronised exertion. But his feverish performance acts out the toxic loop that the Man is trapped in; constantly under pressure to do, to enact, to give presence to other people and their opinions; often dazzled by searing spotlights and fluctuating focus, or cringing in the dark, in a stunning cycle of perturbing lighting states.

Fung’s remarkable physical performance is intense and deeply impactful, using every inch of his being to convey anxiety. It’s a marathon monologue, yet never loses the character’s humanity. There are some truly dazzling moments, particularly when he surreally morphs into a caterpillar, hands urgently grasping to thrust imaginary leaves into his maw.

The writing is often lyrical, almost poetic, with the language working hard and inventively, before the dark lengths to which the Man’s depression pushes him are finally disclosed. It uses beautifully graphic metaphors; glaciers crack to convey an outer, visible strength being undermined from within. Horrific events are described, but the audience’s imaginative engagement is required to envisage them.

The Man’s isolation and refusal to reply to messages indicate a suppression of feelings, his numbness leading to an inability to take help even when offered. Intrusive thoughts and his consent to increasingly painful surgery screams of a need to feel something being the cause of dangerous self-abuse. The whole is a remarkable evocation of the symptoms of poor mental health.

In a country where male suicide is rising, this is a searingly important topic to understand and Fung lucidly and impactfully depicts the context to the problem. It is our society that is the cause of a new cuisine; one where we ultimately devour ourselves through capitalism, consumption and cultural pressures. This is a vital, salient subject, captured viscerally in a hugely emotive, visually captivating production.

Written by Chris Fung
Directed by Rupert Hands
Set and costume design by: Yimei Zhao
Lighting design by: Rajiv Pattani
Sound design by: Jamie Lu
Stage Management: Alexandra Kataigida
Produced by: Fun Guy Productions

The Society For New Cuisine runs at the Omnibus Theatre until Saturday 5 April.