OFFICE
PARTY XMAS 2007
The
Pit, London EC2
Opened 14 December, 2007
****
For the past few Christmases, the Pit has hosted shows by alternative
cabaret collective Duckie. In C'est
Barbican!, each table of clubgoers would "buy" a selection of
acts to be performed quite literally in their faces; last year, in The Class Club, a Christmas dinner
varied in quality, entertainment and price according to whether you had
booked as Upper, Middle or Lower Class. This year, Duckie alumni Ursula
Martinez and Christopher Green have assembled a pastiche-cum-parody of that fearsome
corporate ritual, the office Christmas party. On arrival, we are each
assigned to a particular department: I don't know why I was placed in
Corporate Social Responsibility, but I assure you that my ethnic outreach policy would not
have booked the kind of Pole dancer we saw later. After 15-20 minutes
of preparation from our respective cast-member "team leaders", we troop
into the venue itself for the party proper.
It's an astute mixture of "turns": organised jollity involving us and
our co-workers, such as a Runaround-style
quiz and a hands-free Christmas-pudding-eating contest, alternate with
formal acts like Green's drag alter ego C&W singer Tina C or
comedian Glenn Wool as a CEO who is also a redneck hellraiser. There is
a cheesy disco (warning: it includes Chris De Burgh's "Lady In Red")
and, of course, a cash bar runs throughout to ensure that the
proceedings and the participants alike are well oiled.
It's often hard to tell which of us are punters and which performers,
which is a testimony to the company's ability to field whatever the
evening throws at them, from discreet smartass injections to
off-your-face inanity. To get more analytical, it is also a wonderful
affirmation of the communal live nature of theatre: here, the content
of the evening really is shaped by all of our individual and collective
input, with Cal McCrystal's production simply providing the template
into which we add our own details. It's probably best to go with one or
two friends – neither entirely alone nor in a pre-defined group which
would let you stand apart from the dynamics of the evening.
Audience-participation-phobics will loathe it; those prepared to cut a
wee bit loose as they would at the real thing will have a ball.
Speaking of which, thank heaven there isn't a photocopier around.
Written for the Financial
Times.
Copyright © Ian Shuttleworth; all rights
reserved.
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