The Argus, UK, May 16 2002

Brighton Festival: Street of Blood

by Jakki Phillips

Most of us can count the puppet shows we've seen on one hand.

Even then, they tend to be Punch And Judy shows or bad pantomime acts.

Trawl your mind for memories of puppet shows which made your jaw drop, you cheeks ache with laughter or your eyes fill with tears and you'll probably find the cupboard is bare.

Because, until Ronnie Burkett came along, puppetry was generally viewed as a dying art.

But watch Burkett dash along a suspended walkway breathing life into a cast of beautifully crafted marionettes and you'll see puppetry is far from extinct.

Unfortunately, puppetry of this calibre is still extremely rare. Seeing this show should therefore be considered a once in a lifetime opportunity.

In Street Of Blood, Burkett serves up a moving, funny and captivating slice of genius.

It's incredible to watch a man manipulate 40 puppets so perfectly.

Each character has a unique walk, talk, hand movement or head gesture.

Attention to detail is phenomenal, right down to each tiny cuff button and perfectly-scaled shoelaces.

Unlike actors, the puppets aren't pretending to be characters, they are who they are and it is easy to fall head first into their fictional world.

In this case, the world is a backwater prairie town called Turnip Corners and what unfolds is a Gothic epic with sharp twists of black comedy.

As the complex but easy-to-follow plot unravels, we meet ageing showgirls turned vampires, a karaoke-singing terrorist determined to transform the gay community into violent radicals and a chattering mother who pricks her finger while making a quilt and sees Jesus in the blood stain.

Issues of blood; infected blood, blood ties, blood loss and blood lust run like metaphorical veins through this play and enable Burkett to explore Aids, homophobia, terrorism, religion, rape and the Holocaust.

Although deeply emotional and hugely touching, Burkett never loses his sense of humour and is generous with his dark yet biting humour.

The show lasts two hours and 15 minutes with no interval but don't be put off. You won't be looking at your watch - you'll be mesmerised by Burkett and his marionette masterpiece.

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