Review: BOG WITCH, Soho Theatre Walthamstow

Bryony Kimmings returns to the stage with a new semi-autobiographical solo play. The show is as curious and bitterly whimsical as its title suggests. Prior to this, I’m a Phoenix, Bitch found her actively battling postnatal depression. Bog Witch sees her eradicating her life to move to the countryside.

Specifically, she’s following her eco-warrior partner to set up an off-grid permaculture homestead. It’s quite a change for a woman who’s been filling the hole in her soul the capitalist way, and swapping the buzzy gratification of London for a bucolic idyll turns out to be harder than she expected it to be.

The piece is instantly hilarious and unwaveringly entertaining. She voices her situational intrusive thoughts with caustic sarcasm, establishing a personable and highly relatable connection. The writing is spotless. Funny and wistful at once, she takes the audience on a proper journey. The story is imbued with creative allegories and analogies that add layers to the structure. Her cynicism balances fiery hope, while just enough rudeness keeps it spicy and giggly. But it’s not all buoyant fun.

The darkness is extrapolated and untangled with Kimmings’ own brand of humorous comic drama. Moments of raw tenderness lift the veil, and, with it, all of Kimmings’ defences. In disclosing her own humanity, she kick-starts a profound reflection on our role in nature. The capital-c Countryside is a place of ridiculous contradictions (all the food at the Harvest Festival is pre-packaged) but also a space where you can find true healing and growth (no spoilers, but the “Council of All Beings” scene is a punch to the gut with its tonal duality).

Even in its most tranquil condition, the performance remains explosive. Kimmings delivers the narrative with a variety of disciplines, from movement to songs. The environmentalist message of the production creeps up with a steady hand, resulting in a direct, severe condemnation of the state of the world. Kimmings, however, doesn’t shy away from pointing out our individual powerlessness and stresses the crucial human need for a stable community.

Her immediate feelings of regret, loneliness, and isolation upon moving from the city are ultimately replaced when she finds her own village and learns to embrace her paradox. Tom Rogers designs a minimalist set that relies on conceptualism, with visuals that are stark in their modesty and follow a natural colour scheme. Members of the public mount long, naked, slim tree trunks on wooden platforms ahead of the start; they will be used alongside large projections (by Will Duke) to transfer the action at the click of a finger.

Kimmings propels the plot with meta-theatrical orchestrated chaos. She toys with tone and pace, which results in an engaging rhythm of information and contemplation. It couldn’t be further from being preachy: Kimmings doesn’t judge. She refuses to employ her own anxious attachment to capitalism as a weapon of comparison or opinion, nor does she use her own experience as a cautionary tale. The fable lies in the covert complexity of the storytelling.

The bog draws her in and becomes a symbol. She doesn’t try to persuade us to be more eco in any way; she simply tells us about herself. It’s a surprising, inspiring and inventively original project. It introduces a different version of Bryony Kimmings the Artist, no less bold or boisterous, but definitely more sophisticated and refined.

Bog Witch runs at Soho Theatre Walthamstow until 25 October.