Rowan Armitt-Brewster’s introverted officer worker Thomas struggling with his bothersome briefcase in A Brief Case Of Crazy
SILENCE is golden in A Brief Case Of Crazy, a retro ray of comedic sunshine from Skedaddle Theatre that elicits the broadest of smiles and makes the heart pound with glee.
Trained in physical theatre at East 15 Acting School, Roan Armitt-Brewster, Lennie Longworth and Samuel Cunningham draw inspiration from another Rowan, Atkinson’s Mr Bean, as well as the black-and-white cinema of Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton.
There are shades too of Nick Park and Aardman Animation’s Wallace & Gromit comedies and Belgian surrealist René Magrittein the design for this hour-long “silent love story with a very loud heart”.
Armitt-Brewster, who appeared on the Theatre Royal main stage in Around The World In 80 Days-ish and the 2024 pantomime Aladdin, has described A Brief Case Of Crazy as “the sweatiest, stinkiest show in the world”.
In 1940s’ vintage woollen tank top, cardigan and fitted suit respectively, and sometimes in coats and bowler hats too, in such hot conditions for performing, Armitt-Brewster, Longworth and Cunningham must have felt even sweatier, even stickier. Nevertheless, they put everything into such a physically demanding show, one that keeps them constantly on the move, regularly breaking into ever-faster dance routines.
They do not speak a word, but their facial mannerisms speak volumes, and all manner of sound effects and recorded songs and incidental music are the trigger for crisply choreographed movements of exquisite comic timing, especially in scenes on the London Underground.
Armitt-Bewster’s Thomas, in his specs and tank top that have not changed since childhood, is an introverted, nervy, nerdy office drone with a hidden crush on Longworth’s just-as-shy co-worker Daisy, in woolly hat, green cardigan and red skirt, who turns out to be equally secretly love struck (both of them keeping a photo of the other in a stashed-away folder).
Always standing in the way of love’s true path Cunningham’s office boss Simon, a preening poltroon with a large mirror in his briefcase, a snarling growl for Armitt-Brewster’s timid Thomas on every entrance and a red rose for Daisy, stolen each time from knock-kneed Thomas.
Love-struck: Rowan Armitt-Brewster’s timid Thomas and Lennie Longworth’s equally shy co-worker in A Brief Case Of Crazy
Can love prevail or will dastardly Simon spoil everything? The office “romance” is played with mime and clowning, dance steps and slapstick set-pieces, sometimes involving the drawers of the office chest, where one opens as another is pushed shut. Always keep an eye out for the unexpected, such as the office sunflower suddenly growing taller in the pot when love is declared.
The characters are caricatures with familiar tropes, but beneath the comedy lies pathos too, as bullying and grief suddenly rise to the surface in a brief, deeply moving puppetry scene that takes Thomas back to his childhood.
In the blink of an eye, amid the changing sounds of a hospital, the scene recalls how Thomas was picked on, how he injured himself in a fall, how his mother tended to his injuries, and how that handkerchief went from her hand to his after she dies all too young. When theatre is this economical but visually rich in its storytelling style, it is all the more impactful.
Indeed, the timing is so well judged throughout that only once – in a sequence of love-blossoming dance routines in quick-quick succession, where Armitt-Brewster plays Astaire to Longworth’s Rogers – could the editing be tighter. Maybe trim a song, but definitely keep in Armitt-Brewster tap-dancing finale.
All three performances are a delight, from Armitt-Brewster’s tragicomic office nerd to Longworth’s toothy, Chaplinesque Daisy – you could picture her playing Shakespeare’s Puck – topped off with Cunningham’s vainglorious Simon, the cadaverous cad of the piece.
From a trio of misbehaving briefcases to the cast’s ability to put both commotion and emotion into motion, A Brief Case Of Crazy is an utter joy in its celebration of the romance of the underdog, its empowerment of being different, its love and refinement of a time-honoured but increasingly neglected performance style. You’d be crazy to miss it.
Skedaddle Theatre & Shoddy Theatre present A Brief Case Of Crazy, York Theatre Royal Studio, tonight, 7pm; tomorrow, 2pm and 7pm. Box office: 01904 623568 or yorktheatreroyal.co.uk. Age guidance: Five upwards.
