Antiquithon @ Institut Français d'Ecosse

“Welcome to our cabinet of curiosities,” chants Urelia Canzniescu in a Romanian accent, as she and her disturbingly silent brother Vodek welcome a few into their carnival-like theatre, as dark and as mysterious as the show that is shortly to be presented. As the twosome begin their production by dragging the audience in with a spice of magical illusions, the crowd starts with a mixture of high spirits.

As the gullible group who have forked out a five-pound note for a ticket enter the dingy dungeon that they call a theatre, there is admittedly a certain kind of glamorous aura that surrounds the antiquities on display. For who could not be mesmerised by a rabbit with eight eerie spider legs that spins thread that is as soft as cashmere but as strong as titanium? The decorated antique room is easily the most interesting aspect of their routine; it would captivate minds for a considerable period of time if the gruesome twosome were not there to interrupt.

Yet it is a painful experience, and no doubt it will be for many, if not all. The ‘magic’ electric shocks that sear through the seats in the room and make the audience jump up in anguish before rushing towards the door only amplify the painfully disturbing performance of the two actors as their false smiles flow with ease.

Weirdly bizarre but hardly wonderful, this makeshift play will leave you more in a state of confusion than laughter as you exit, or rather run from the theatre.