Monsters

Combining nuclear family aesthetics with a Pinteresque sense of menace, Monsters bares its teeth at the constructed reality imposed on us by today’s multimedia.

Set in an American household at Christmas time, Monsters poises itself for an unmitigated rampage against commercialism, superficial family values and hyperreal happiness whilst sporadically stopping to hack at MySpace, mobile phones and the iPod. Towards the second half it goes berserk, randomly killing off characters before evolving into a sinister Lynchian nightmare.

On the whole, the play flows vibrantly from its glossy beginning to its harrowing end and the underlying dysfunction is elegantly nuanced by the surrealism that takes control. The play’s tendency to veer towards farce (including a weird musical number) is a faux pas, and the numerous incongruous gags detrimentally let down the otherwise well constructed narrative. The young cast are heavy-handed in their reckoning of J. Randall Mayflower’s script and mask its colours as they compete to make known their own.

The result is a gaudy production driven by conflicting creative priorities, oozing with ambition but lacking in focus. With more emphasis on the direction and refinements to the often clumsy dialogue, Monsters will no doubt stop snarling and deliver its bite.