Letters to Windsor House by Sh!t Theatre
HOME MCR, Manchester [20.04.17]
Imagine living on a housing estate with blocks of flats named after royal residencies. I live on one of those, but the one I live on is in Manchester, not London. Imagine getting a shit ton of post everyday for randoms that lived in the property just before you. I get that except, we’ve been here for nearly two decades. Imagine deciding to open all the letters and then pursue the people they belong to. Yeah, I’ve got better things to do, ta.
Hailed as an exceptional piece of political theatre on the housing crisis, expectations were of course high. Following this, I’ve realised that you should never expect (too) much from anything. Brave, they said… meh. Heartbreaking, they said… meh. Hilarious, they said… really though?
Letters to Windsor House is like a modern day Carry On, without the misogyny (*claps*) and the funny bits (*tumble weed*). The gags did get laughter from some audience members, but I guess some people are easily amused. And ‘Rob Je Cock’ kind of loses it’s ha ha factor after you’ve said it twice… I stopped counting how many times this was said throughout the very long hour I was sitting down for.
In all the song, dance and silliness of this piece, I feel that the underlying ‘message’ of the show did not bloom and the housing crisis was platformed but not fully explored. The real story was emerging when performers Becca and Louise were in cardboard, strap-on telephone boxes sharing very personal letters to each other. This was what I wanted more of.
I guess I wanted more. More plot, more meaning and more humour.
Verdict: If you’re easily amused and don’t like to do too much thinking, this one’s for you duck.
Afronalysis 