Be Here Now

‘In the ’90’s, we all had personal stereos,’ performer Clare Dunn reminds us, unnecessarily. We all argued about the superiority of Blur or Oasis, insecure gay teenagers held imaginary conversations with their Kylie Minogue posters and our language was strewn with references to Our Price and Ethan Hawke. That’s the vision of the ’90’s Toot recreate in ‘Be Here Now’, one cluttered with cultural commonplaces so darn commonplace they fail to muster even nostalgia.

Toot loosely immerse us in a world of chart hits and Hooch bottles, as the company share their memories of growing up and the songs that soundtracked their formative moments. The lo-fi format, all microphones and mirrorballs, is likeable but overfamiliar, its theatrical register now the lingua franca of softly experimental theatre. We’re asked to briefly contribute our own experiences, to dance a bit and to film some action with our cameraphones, but it feels like Toot have simply seen these moments and techniques elsewhere and crowbarred them into their performance. The section with the phones particularly jarring given the period atmosphere they’re hoping to evoke.

All three performers are talented and game, though the energy drops in the more obviously scripted parts, barring one in which Dunn moves in swaying spasms to a Minidisc ‘minimix’ given to her by an early crush. It’s one of only a handful of moments that lifts the show out of the ho-hum and into something that transcends and transforms the everyday.

Like one of those terrible conversations that feign a pining for when Starburst were called Opal Fruits or Snickers were Marathons, this try-hard trip down memory lane too often feels like sickly small-talk, with nothing more substantial to say.