Elf Lyons
A closely choreographed assault on the senses, as a combination of story-telling, mime and vegetable annihilation had her audience reeling with laughter and discomfort in equal measure - this ferociously talented performer confronted and questioned tired stereotypes and lazy preconceptions at every turn.
Norwich Arts Centre
A horror/comedy mash-up inspired by the novels of Stephen King probably isn’t for everyone, but it’s a fair bet that those who are interested, are really, really keen. The perfect show, then, for the intimate atmosphere of the Arts Centre. I’ve been a fan of Stephen King – easily one of the best writers of his generation – for a life’s time of reading, and now I’m a fan of Elf Lyons, after witnessing (and witnessing is about the right word) her astonishing performance. “Raven” was an odd choice of title for a show revolving around King - I guess “Rabid Dog” was never going to play as well – but it wasn’t the oddest thing about the show by any means.
Upon entry, we were disconcertingly welcomed by the imposingly tall figure of Lyons, made up like a cross between a Day of the Dead figure and Pennywise from It. “Welcome to my little horror show” she said, as we took to our seats. What followed was a closely choreographed assault on the senses, as a combination of story-telling, mime and vegetable annihilation had her audience reeling with laughter and discomfort in equal measure. We were promised a show that was either funny or frightening, depending on our personal inclination, but I think it fairer to say it was a mix of the two. I did laugh, but I smiled a lot more. I was spooked, but I was mostly creeped out.
The show proper started in fine style with Berlioz’s party favourite, Dies Irae – better known as that tune from the Shining. It was one of many nods to the Stephen King geeks in the audience, but aside from the throwaway quips we were pleased with ourselves for catching, Lyons’s narrative was really about childhood trauma. Just how much of what we were told was truly autobiographical I can’t know – given the detail I’m not sure I want to – but this was evocative, powerful stuff. It was also hugely affecting. No matter how hard Lyons tried to appear unhinged (and with some success, it has to be said) an underlying sweetness bled through her superficially loopy presentation. Her mum, her uncle, her school matron, and Kevin Bacon are the real monsters here, not the little girl who grew up to be a nutty girl, one that used to tuck in the protective shield of her duvet cover.
More a collection of set pieces than a coherent whole, her show was packed with disconcerting images and disorientating narratives. I’m not convinced the sum of the parts hung together as a whole, but there was a ferocious talent at work here, confronting and questioning tired stereotypes and lazy preconceptions at every turn. Comparisons to this unique performer are hard to find, but take the vulnerability of the early work of Bryony Kimmings and mix in some of Lucy McCormick’s fearless clowning, and you’d be getting somewhere close. Where Lyons sets herself apart from both of those artists is in her brilliant ability to jest through mime, rather than simply clown about. Heavily influenced by French theatre professor Philippe Gaulier, something she undercuts as much as she uses, her show was a bizarre confection of the absurd and the oddly profound.
If I have a quibble, and it’s a relatively small one, this feels like a show centred on, and designed around, her run at the Edinburgh Fringe, with little concession made to the fact she’s now out on safari in deepest Norfolk. It’s not so much the chat about the train to Waveney Station, however oddly specific that might be, as the general tone and direction. The cathartic destruction at the close of the show – complete with protective covers for the front row – was very “Edinburgh” and has inevitably drawn much critical attention. Far more interesting for me, and far more truly original, was the genuinely horrifying mime of the butterfly sequence – you had to be there - and far more surprising was the showcasing of a superb singing voice, just when we thought we’d seen and heard everything. Now, that really was a rabbit pulled out a hat.
