Leo is majestic. Simple and sophisticated, the whole one-man show is built around a trick of perspective: the live performance is presented side by side with a projection that rotates it by ninety degrees.
This proves a rich source of physical comedy. Tobias Wegner may be lying down, while his doppelgänger is leaning against a wall. Or defying gravity, levitating in a corner of the rotated room.
He generally takes the harder option with grace, completing the movement at a funny angle (horizontal not vertical). For example, he plays the saxophone lying down or holds press-up or plank positions that look quite natural at right angles.
Just as you are starting to tire of the trick, the show blooms and zooms to another level. A whole living-room is drawn in chalk, with brilliant touches such as the bird that works from both angles (is that an owl or a stork?). The light switch, the goldfish, the cat, table and chair… They are then illuminated and animated and take on an energy of their own.
The soundtrack ranges from contemporary to classical, possibly with some jokes. There are strains of Frank Sinatra’s ‘I’ve got the world on a string’, and orchestral music that is familiar yet elusive. Was that a bit of ‘Swan Lake’? Or has the wordless performance just opened up a mental space where Lionel Richie’s ‘Dancing On The Ceiling’ meets Kafka and ‘The Sorcerer’s Apprentice’?
A dystopian vision takes hold after the goldfish bowl floods, leaving the hero floundering then fleeing a shark. The film becomes a mad graphical swirl as the character frantically wipes the chalk clear. In another sequence, the projection is delayed, so that the character is haunted by his shadow.
The final bid for freedom, as a suitcase reveals a trapdoor through which the man climbs, was surprisingly moving. An ingenious, elegant show, Leo leaves the field open to interpretation.