Eccentric drama horrifies in Islington
The Insti2ute is half theatre and half 'House of Horrors'
As one of the bigger names on the Edinburgh Fringe Festival scene, Pleasance has nearly 25 years experience in giving highly unconventional productions a stage. Halloween thriller The Insti2ute is no exception to the trend, being poles apart from your West End night out in both setting and, sadly, in substance.
As an audience, we are taken on a promenade tour of a defunct genetic research facility, the Avernus Institute, recently the site of a “tragedy” - a reference to last year’s prequel. Now acquired by the Coalition Government as part of its campaign to rebuild broken Britain, the delightfully servile civil servant James (the superb David Reed) and his hapless, blue-rosette-wearing Minister Hector (capably played by Paul Foxcroft) invite us to inspect the institute firsthand. Swiftly however the scene shifts from satirical Government publicity event to a hair-raising bid to escape the laboratory that forces us to confront the walking, groaning mysteries that abound in its corridors. Brilliant use is made of its semi-industrial surrounds, easing the audience’s near total immersion in the warped world of The Insti2ute. Had I not failed in my attempts to pick up an Evening Standard, I might’ve missed the show entirely, such was the subtlety of the cheap-suited lackey entering the foyer and calling all those there for ‘the tour of the Institute.’ Sadly such finesse was not constant throughout the performance: whilst the show had some ingenious moments (the Tory MP taking time out to check the legality of everyone’s presence in the country springs to mind) elsewhere the performance seemed at times wooden, a fault of the script or the acting, it’s hard to tell.
Whilst I don’t want to get bogged down in debating what’s theatre and what isn’t, it was evident that The Insti2ute is sailing close to the wind. As a play, the plot seriously lacks depth, but as an intensely interactive and involved house of horrors, it fits the bill perfectly. Never did I find myself distracted and the only time I wondered how much time there was left I was driven by a genuine, tingling sense of terror. A little suspension of disbelief is necessary – the props and set still retaining an air of fringe – but the resultant fruits are plentiful.
At a fast-paced forty-five minutes, the show is a little on the short side but the maxim of quality over quantity clearly reigned supreme in the minds of David Puckridge, Dave Scullion and Brendan Dodds. The latter’s involvement in ‘Pappy’s Fun Club’ suggested great things, the show being described by a friend as the funniest thing he’d ever seen. And whilst I wouldn’t hurry to beckon George A. Romero over the pond for a viewing, it certainly makes for a satisfying night out, if more in gore than in profound thought. I don’t want to give too much away, but before The Insti2ute I had never been in a situation so eerily (and fantastically) reminiscent of the tunnel scene in 28 Days Later; just substitute Cillian Murphy and that girl for me and a bunch of North London 20-somethings. It makes a highlight of the show that nearly singularly justifies the admission price.
