Flesh *****

Flesh is a series of physical theatre vignettes, presented by Still Life.

In the opening scene, a man is carefully and systematically dressed in protective clothing. He is required to sterilise his hands repeatedly, even after putting on gloves, while his mobile phone is sealed inside a plastic bag. Only when the attendant is satisfied is the curtain withdrawn, revealing a patient lying in a hospital bed.

The man gently spends time with his loved one, before the modern world invades this intimate space, leading to a poignant, funny and heartbreaking denouement.

Romance is in the air in the next scene. A couple are in a lounge, with Sade playing. There is a gift bag and champagne in a bucket, but the man’s face is bandaged. When she opens her gift box, to her delight, it is a pair of scissors. This is the moment! His present is that she will gaze upon him once again. The unveiling, however, does not quite go to plan.

The third short reveals a woman entering a virtual reality experience, with a male attendant. There’s an overwhelming number of options from which to choose, but she seizes on the Titanic adventure – the film version. As she re-enacts moments from this, lost in her own world, the attendant looks on disinterestedly, except when she is intimate and he chooses to shy away from voyeurism.

The final story brings all the four performers together for a wake in a bar. Their mother has died, bringing her children together. Except they’re not – set against the grief of the occasion, there is clearly conflict. The scene develops to a riotous conclusion.

Physical theatre is more than just a genre; it is a different way of thinking about the use of the body for storytelling. In Flesh, the four scenes thread questions about how lives are rooted to our bodily existence. All of this, of course, non-verbally.

Flesh is rich in detail. The unspoken frustration of the man’s patience being stretched awaiting access to the hospital ward. The ecstasy of fumbling for the mobile. The woman removing the bandages with the man’s back to the audience, her facial reaction revealing what we cannot see. The attendant’s discomfort at moments of the virtual reality experience. The beautifully played juxtaposition of the banality of its final voiceover against the participant struggling to process her experience. In the wake scene, everything is conveyed while not being spoken – rivalry, resentment, uncertainty.

The production deftly weaves storytelling and comedy around a central theme of connection. It embraces pathos and, at times, surrealism and absurdity. Human truths, however, are always on display.

The staging is clever. The fast-paced scene changes are conducted behind a curtain offering a tantalising glimpse of what may follow, all while the audience are trying to process the last vignette.

The performances (Muriel Legrand, Sophie Linsmaux, Aurelio Mergola and Jonas Wertz), and direction (Linsmaux and Mergola) are brilliant. Still Life’s offering is simply a masterclass of physical theatre.

Zoo Southside, until 16^th August.