By the end of Mega, I am dancing in the rain with a stranger to the persuasive beat of MC Hammer that no one apart from us can hear. Passers-by pause in the driving Ipswich rain to take photos of us on their phones. I am a self-conscious audience member, and this is an unlikely outcome, but the show gets me there, much to my surprise.
Mega is a surprisingly intimate audio performance that casts you as the nine year-old Bryony Kimmings in the eventful summer of 1990. I say surprising, because the garish pink shell suits and brash frame as the artist sets up the format suggest that something more harsh and exposing may be asked of you. But as I switch on the joyfully retro cassette walkman, the tones are gentle – the voice talking quietly in my ears is warm and reminiscent.
A mash-up of period tunes and historic and personal detail from Kimmings’ life at the time effectively weaves an atmosphere, helpfully reinforced by the stoically 80s architecture of the ring road surrounding the New Wolsey Theatre. We are let loose to wander for fifteen minutes in this urban playground of underpasses and car parks and I appreciate the air of childlike ennui this sets up as we wait for mum to call us in. But a little more shape or instruction about things to look for or use on our outdoor adventure would have really helped me to get inside the world she was creating. For much of the show I could happily have simply sat on a bench and listening to her engaging storytelling and soundtrack. One or two neat interactive touches help with this, but there is more I think that could be explored about how the young Bryonys interact with their space and one another to really make use of the format in action here.
Self exposure has been Bryony’s Kimmings’ stock-in-trade in previous theatre shows Sex Idiot and 7 Day Drunk. She is mostly unflinching in her self presentation in this coming of age tale about a dawning sense of difference and disillusionment, though with a few insights misted by nostalgia toward the end.
Perhaps it’s partly because I share Kimminngs’ age, and the summer of 1990 that she evokes so painstakingly is one I also remember vividly for many of the reasons she describes, that this performance drew me in so effectively. But, on the evidence of the 60 year-old Samaritan dancing with me in the rain, this is a fun and charming experience that can sweetly draw us all back to a less self-conscious time.