Blood Show, Battersea Arts Centre Review

Written by Kennedy for Theatre and Tonic

Disclaimer: Gifted tickets in exchange for an honest review

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Ocean Chillingsworth’s movement theatre piece Blood Show makes a game out of violence, death, and rebirth.

Upon entering the performance space, we’re offered plastic ponchos to wear. Thrilled and anticipating a big splash as though we’re waiting to see Shamu. Knowing, given the title, that there will be (washable) blood. But in Blood Show, flips and tricks are presented through the artifice of violence.

Bloody corpse, Ocean Chillingworth is a horrifying sight doused in deep red from head to toe. Reminiscent of well-known video games such as Mortal Combat and PAC Man, Chillingworth and their ghoulish counterpart, (co-performer and fight director Craig Hambling) who I thought of as player one and player two, go through the motions of intense and ritualistic fight sequences that ultimately lead to Chillingworth’s death each round. Tracing their steps and imprinting upon a pristinely white carpet, they seem to be caught in a cyclical path marked by notions of violence. 

I say notions because the corpse and the ghoul use no weapons that would create open wounds and never inflict real harm despite there being buckets of blood to show for it. At worst, a blood-stained embrace made to appear strenuous. From the right angle, one would have every reason to believe the violence displayed was real. This show has no dialogue aside from the painfully believable screams and agonized groans of each expertly choreographed blow. Supported by sound effects (AJ Turner and Nik Rawlings) making every slap, kick, punch, bite, and body slam resonate with associations of painful impact. From the wrong angle, we understand Chillingworth is unharmed, revived, and seemingly unaffected. Throughout their spar, the two become increasingly worn down, not from the brutality of the fight but from the effort of simulating violence.

Meanwhile, watching intently from the perimeter of the carpet hovers a ghost (Tim Bromage) of the most obvious kind—draped in a white sheet with cut-out holes for eyes. The ghost’s presence creates tension and appears to dictate the start and end of each battle. Wailing a haunting Mumford and Sons-esk folk song and guiding the players in a maze-like pattern to their positions before each face-off. But after the second and certainly the third round, each sequence becomes less impactful and more vague. Cringing and disassociating at the sight of the extended violence, I wondered, is there a point to all this?

Needless to say, the show daring, obscure, and requires context to portray its meaning. Blood Show is the second installment of Chillingworth’s Extinction Trilogy (after Monster Show and before Nature Show). Which explores the human body and its limits for representation from a trans-body lens. Chillingworth describes these works as “A post-human laugh in the face of impending Armageddon”. 

This perspective could be conducive were we to make assumptions about Chillingworth’s gender identity, how their body navigates representations of that identity and space, and observe the poetics of movement as metaphor. But otherwise, the only audible laughs from the audience seemed to be out of discomfort and sympathy for perceived pain. Perhaps it is in this form of a call and response that Chillingworth’s work seeks to explore the essence of human instinct and existence. But it can also be argued that simulating violence for fun is a privilege that other intersectional bodies wouldn’t see the sense in making a mock of. 

Blood Show executes brilliantly as a movement theatre piece. But is perhaps too abstract to portray a clear narrative, struggles with pacing, and therefore is a bit agonizing to follow with many questions left bubbling over the 75-litre pool of blood seeping into a perfectly good rug. In the end, some people like to watch others beat each other or themselves up, and some of us don’t.