Vegetable is an absurdly unique, non-linear play that repeatedly breaks ‘theatrical rules’ and delivers warped perspectives of thespian culture, political theatre, and archetypes.Rating
Excellent
The centre point of Vegetable is the writing, which feels more like poetry than a script. Combined with the actors’ talents, the script becomes as if a verse and a puzzle had a lovechild. The writing reminds us that we are witnessing a strange play, where storylines are jumbled and are often non-existent, because, as the writing illustrates, not only is this play made up, but so is a lot of reality.
The playwrights lace the performance with metaphors which ground the eccentric show. Namely, vegetables are used throughout as a symbol of the play’s core messages about reality and ridiculousness. Radishes are eaten from the outset as an act of ‘political defiance’ because one of the characters doesn’t like radishes, and this axis in behaviour makes the act rebellious. The humour feels layered, because the act feels both true to the reality of being an artist and, at the same time, stupidly performative.
The structure bounces between narrative, dialogue, and monologues, gelling out of one plot into another – and then back to the previous one. Ultimately, the writing asks that you think, piece together, and ponder, but not so much that you miss the next absurd moment.
The five actors, who are aptly named 1–5, each deliver nuanced characters with different quirks, flaws, and motivations. As the play unfolds in multiple directions, the actors expertly perform as soloists and collaborators. The characters often make the audience aware that they are here, in this present moment performing. This cleverly frames the archetypes the characters have been inspired by, which becomes clearer as the performance spirals. The play’s strangeness, partnered with the actors’ palpable performances, results in the play feeling like one big inside joke that you’re not quite a part of, leaving you wishing you could know more. Special mention to the silent sixth actor, who sits on stage for most of the duration – in an inflatable rat costume.
A core moment of the show is the very long, very awkward silences. The actors remain frozen with no music or sound for minutes, which feels frighteningly long in a theatre. These repeated still images are bright, upfront and comedically tense.
The pacing of the show slows down greatly during these long pauses. To create a more overall balanced pace, the show feels in need of a few more stimulating moments where there is plenty of movement or sound. Especially since Vegetable is filled with speech, physicality could punctuate the show well. Visually speaking, being staged on an end-on stage doesn’t complement the striking show as much as being in the round, or on a thrust stage could. The boldness of the performance deserves to be seen from all different angles.
David Alexander Smith’s paintings are projected onto the back of the stage for the majority of the show. How best to describe Smith’s paintings? As if the people in Picasso’s Cubist era take up hobbies and go travelling, and we are seeing snapshots of their journeys. Smith’s paintings are yet another metaphor for the show, as both are bold, irregular and bizarre, and both are clearly meticulously planned to be this way.
Vegetables is a colourfully mesmerising show that provokes questions (and insists on providing little to no answers!). It is intentional, random, and structured with tension and talent.
Vegetables is written by John London and Kit/Chris Danowski, who passed away in 2024. Danowski and London wrote the play in 2020, and six years on, Vegetables graces the stage. This particular performance is in memoriam to Danowski and his work.
Written by Kit Danowski and John London
Directed by Dr Karen Morash
Produced by Karen Morash Productions
Vegetable has completed its current run.
