Home of the Wriggler

Stan's Cafe Theatre's 'lo-fi, sci-fi docu-drama' unfolds before a backdrop of heavily annotated machinery, each annotation corresponding with one of 87 character names. True to its set design, the sprawling series of reminiscences that comprise Home of the Wriggler's narrative affirm the impact that seemingly isolated lives have on others, entangled in a web of existence and progress.

The play's action is located in a West Midlands of the future in which cars, the infamous Longbridge manufacturing plant and traditional fuels are long defunct, having assumed significance as local legend, subjects of discursive speculation. Following some sort of eco-disaster, four storytellers attempt to relate their impressions of the past to the audience, peddling bikes in order to power the show's lighting.

Wriggler could be deemed one the Fringe's most environmentally-conscious play, were it not for the intrusive noise pollution produced by the constant whirring of wheels. James Yarker's wilfully complex script is undeniably accomplished, yet audiences are not intended to follow all of its strands. Rather, one is expected to pick up on fragments of dialogue and action which will leave an accumulative impression upon them. While a talented cast claim that the piece is 'the most demanding show they have ever had to perform', due to the constant physical exertion and lengthy monologues it requires of them, audiences viewing it face no less arduous a task.

After 70 minutes of straining to hear dialogue, let alone understand it, all the while ignoring a series of kinetic distractions, spectators are more likely to reflect on The Home of the Wriggler as a work to be admired posthumously rather than enjoyed in the present.