‘It is possible to be desperately sad and have fun at the same time’ declare Rebecca Biscuit and Louise Mothersole in Sh!t Theatre’s Or What’s Left of Us, and what a mantra that proves to be.
Their first Fringe show is since the pandemic is the wilfully shambolic alt theatre duo’s ‘Nebraska’ or ‘On the Beach’ – a stripped back, folk-inflected work made in response to heartache that is, nonetheless, an essential part of their peerless back catalogue.
At several points, they reference the title – which is best read as Sh!t Theatre (Or What’s Left of Us) – in saying that this isn’t ‘true’ Sh!t Theatre, because things have changed. But when your oeuvre takes in a show about Dolly Parton and mortality (DollyWould), a show about expat culture and state-sanctioned killings in Malta (Sh!t Theatre Drink Run with Expats) and most recently one about Eva Perron and the duo’s doubt about their future (Evita Too) then their latest’s blend of folk music and grief is hardly a stretch.
Indeed, superficially it’s classic Sh!ts, featuring the duo in costume – sort of mediaeval peasant garb with occasional ‘Wicker Man’-style animal heads – and singing songs while regaling us with some recent japes they had (that inevitably take on a deeper meaning as the show wears on).
In this case, they were sad so they really got into folk: much of the show is based around their account of a visit to a legendary Yorkshire folk club, plus various spin off events from their ‘folk revival period’: going to a folk festival (on mushrooms) seeing Steeleye Span (and buying a weird tea towel) and exploring the songs themselves. The pair always had almost excessively pretty voices from the purposes of their rough’n’ready shows, but their beautiful harmonising is an absolute treat here as they wrap their lungs around a series of macabre traditionals, to somewhat folk horror effect.
Anyway, it’s funny and barbed and eccentric and classic Sh!t Theatre in many ways, with the main deviation from other work being the dropping of their previous use of slideshows and full face paint – changes that probably seem more drastic to them than their audience.
The thing is, there’s a colossal subtext here, an elephant that dominates the room, which is the recent, tragically young death of Adam Brace, the duo’s long-term director (and Rebecca’s partner). The duo allude to their turning to folk to get through a rough patch; there’s even a wry joke about not having a director to tell them what to do anymore. But the floodgates do finally burst for an extraordinary final section where the duo – Rebecca in particular – try and expel the poison, spitting out bitter, absurd shards of painful memory, from feeling weirded out by the dressed body to a bizarre chat with a New York Times obituary writer.
They never 100 percent spell out what happened and clearly not everyone in the room got it (there was a bit too much laughter from certain corners). It’s clearly a very deliberate decision to not make the show about Brace per se – it’s about folk and grief, not reliving the minutiae of a specific incident. But for my part I found it the perfectly judged climax to an extraordinary show, the duo’s beguiling mix of lairy tomfoolery, piercing intelligence and beautiful song sharpened by raw emotion.
Afterwards you’re invited to hang out with Sh!t Theatre in the bar and sing some songs. It’s a fun coda (a bit like a meet & greet) that takes some of the sting out of the ending - I think for that reason it’s fair to view it as optional and to consider the show concluded at the more emotional early moment if you’d rather.
That said, it’s not as heavy as I’ve maybe made it sound: it has its moments of course, but it’s about living through grief, not drowning in it. Indeed, in a way Or What’s Left of Us feels happier than Evita Too, which left you with the strong sense Sh!t Theatre might split up soon. Clearly they didn’t, and there’s no sense of an imminent end here – indeed, a jokily heavy handed repeat reference to their love of Japanese Kintsugi even suggests a degree of optimism for the future. I hope that’s right – there truly is nobody out there like Sh!t Theatre, whatever’s left of them.
