Liv Ello is the director of Frankie Thompson’s delightful show Catts, so I had high expectations for their solo offering, Swarm. Like Catts, it’s a blend of clowning, theatre and video, which Ello holds together with a succession of strong characters inspired by species of fly.
The title comes courtesy of David Cameron, who in 2015 used the term to describe migrants crossing the Mediterranean. In an ambitious show tackling the dehumanisation of desperate travellers, Ello invites us to ask: who are the real parasites?
As the audience files in, smoke lingers on stage, green light eerily illuminating an old metal bin. Scattered pieces of rubbish (including a horrifying dog waste bag) double as props.
Clad in a bug-like costume with extra arms, big green goggles and white wings, Ello guides us through a landscape of familiar and often repulsive characters – dishonest estate agents, leery lads, corporate shills, and self-centred friends.
These are well-observed characters, united by their sickly obliviousness to the plight of others. Each play off the name of a fly. The hilarious Blow Fly follows footage of Michael Gove apologising for cocaine usage. Dangling a monster bag of white powder, it paints a scene of excess that would be quite at home on the banking drama Industry. Horse Fly is an equine-obsessed Tory girl, Fruit Fly is a cheeky takedown of the corporate co-option of Pride while Black Fly creates tension as a white character struggling to talk about race.
Jarring videos contrast the cruel immigration rhetoric of successive Tory leaders with scenes of suffering and insects scuttling. Ominous buzzing is used to great effect, escalating cinematically when events on screen take a darker turn. There are moments in the latter part of the show where it threatens to become too earnest, but Ello draws us into a poignant and confronting scene remembering Alan Kurdi, the drowned Syrian toddler whose tragic death became international news.
From the clownish, comedic opening, the show takes a measured descent into the serious. Ello slides into the poetic as punchlines drop away and we’re left to sit with our discomfort.
At Camden People’s theatre, London, until 12 November
