This is not a show you sit still and quiet for; this is a show where you squirm, jump, scream, throw your hands over your eyes and, in our case, dodge falling ropes.
Free from the confines of dialogue and storyline, 'Scotch & Soda' was like being sucked into the dream world of a 1920s circus performer. The stage was filled with acrobats and musicians who moved around each other with the effortless coordination of a school of fish.
Even among all this dexterous synchronisation, there were a few small slip-ups early on (including the aforementioned rope, which fell into our row of seats, but was easily dodged).
During these frenetic opening moments there was also a completely intentional, full-frontal doodle flash from a scraggly-bearded acrobat who was tap dancing in wooden clogs on top of a table. He flopped out his business despite the presence of a small child in the front row, creating a combination of horror and hilarity that I not-so-secretly love. But then, I don’t have kids. I imagine the mother who had to explain the wildly flapping willy to her young son (and anyone who can relate to her) might have been horrified.
The tiny mishaps and unexpected nudity beautifully shattered the illusion that everything would just go according to some kind of socially acceptable plan. Unable to slip into the hypnotic daze we’re so used to when playing the part of observer, we participated in every moment with the performers, our faces and bodies reflecting the action on stage instead of absorbing it in static silence.
Much more than just a back-up element, the music was integral; sometimes driving the action, other times reacting to it. The instrumental solos were as captivating as the acrobatic feats and every performer, regardless of their role, gave their full attention and support to whoever was taking the spotlight.
Ever-evolving, the show spiralled through a dream-like succession of organised chaos. Acrobats balanced on their hands on boxes balanced on bottles, stacked nearly to the roof. Three of them slithered through and around each other, creating perfectly counter-balanced shapes with their bodies, all whilst riding a bike.
Each scene outdid the last, building to a wild crescendo before snapping to a satisfying close and leaving us in cheerful possession of an experience we hadn’t quite expected to be going home with.
'Scotch & Soda' plays the Judith Wright Centre until 28 November.
