It feels strange to watch a piece of physical theatre with no text that is purely made up of irritatingly 'on the beat' moves, and have so little going on in one’s imagination. The 'images' in the show, which at times felt like a bizarre fashion parade, triggered nothing at the time. It was only afterwards that I was rewarded with some sensible interpretations. Penises, vaginas, birds, the Bulgarian flag, dancing sperm? Peeling one’s skin away, dancing with one’s shadow, maps of the world basking in the light of freedom? There was lots of unselfconscious, naive and humorous eye contact with the audience. I enjoyed it – despite myself – there was so little to it.
But simplicity and innocence are attractive, much sought after qualities in theatre – this the actresses, Dessy Mincheva-Todorov, Petya Djobova and Tyanka Radeva, have in abundance. What they need more of is the courage to move their bodies in more ways than one. Also, any company at the end of the 20th Century claiming to be 'creating new forms' is asking for trouble. There are no 'new forms' – there are only interpretations, reinterpretations, hybrids or cover versions – or are there?
I sincerely hope that Theatre Strich will continue this debate, but before they do so I hope they get rid of the white lycra and the knicker line. This is human origami – a colourful festival of repetitiveness which could have been taken much much further.