Complete Works: Tabletop Shakespeare has a simple premise–Shakespeare, performed with household objects. Forced Entertainment presents this re-told Shakespeare with marked simplicity, a no airs, no fuss, no bother shake-up of almost every single longform dramatic text. Their premiere night saw the presentation of Coriolanus, Richard II and As You Like It. While I only had the chance to see Coriolanus, several patrons in attendance expressed their delight in being able to see the whole event in a snap-bang triple feature. 

Coming into the Guild, the audience sees the stage lined in deep red curtains. On both sides of the stage, tall shelves were stacked with a diverse range of household objects and knickknacks. They’re taller than I am!–though that’s not a particularly difficult feat (I’m 5’3”). The shelves resemble the intricate maze of a stockshop from a professional theatre company or that of a grandmother’s well-stocked kitchenette. There is also a table. It’s a rather nice table. This table sits centre downstage with a simple cardboard sign. The sign notes the name of the play we are about to see performed with the chosen objects alongside it. In spite of my horrendous eyesight, I can make out a neat selection including but not limited to cleaning products and a lone moka pot. The performer, Jerry Killick, is already onstage. The choice of having a performer onstage can no longer, for the most part, be considered a subversive choice. Yet, while Killick scans the shelves, posture languid–no opening night jitters here–I can’t help but wonder if this choice serves to inspire the same introspection that Killick himself seems to represent, standing alone on the Guild’s black floors.    

Once the performance starts, it is clear that this is no epic tragedy nor comedy. Tabletop serves what is essentially a delightful recap of Coriolanus, made all the more pleasant with the use of household items. Killick is soft-spoken yet somehow also possessing an oratorical style that is as clear as one of the glasses he uses as a prop. In a lesser performance, these directorial choices would come across as the type of ASMR podcast that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Instead, it is a careful, rehearsed sequence of shifting spray bottles and coffee pots, accompanied by Killick’s warm delivery. “There’s nothing a plebeian likes more than a story” our narrator tells us, and indeed, myself and the other plebs in the audience enjoy the story thoroughly. Translated into Australian English, the words and the choice of objects work on a masterful dramaturgical scale. Coriolanus, the famed Roman general with a deep distaste for the common folk, is depicted as a rusted trophy: signifying his trajectory towards what will become a corroded legacy, his military success leading not to glory but to further disdain. The characters around him are depicted with similar semiotic finesse: his overbearing mother, a massive coffee pot; his opponent, a bleach bottle; the plebeians who defend their position, little matchboxes. These choices are further supplemented by careful blocking. Each move the performer makes is calculated, careful. Each character is defined, even in household form. It makes for an engaging if not quaint show. 

My only problem with Tabletop is its choice of venue. Granted, I’m not totally privy to the inner politics nor the administrative machinations that go into professional venues but upon leaving the show, I could only describe my feelings as wishful. The experimental ethos of the show lay in its simplicity. With only one performer and a bunch of household items, the intimate nature of the show, dare I say, demanded an equally intimate venue.  Everyone in student theatre has a love-hate relationship with the Guild. For one, it is a black box theatre that is blue. Blue, I tell you! Ridiculous. It can fit up to one-hundred-and-seven patrons, last time I checked. For what is meant to be a black box, the Guild is quite spacious, formal even. I felt that Tabletop would have matched its atmosphere with a smaller space, a nice quaint (actually black) blackbox. 

Nevertheless, all’s well that ends well as the Bard says and overall, it was an enjoyable show.