‘We’re not in Kansas any more,” Dorothy tells Toto when they arrive in Oz. But what if you find yourself in neither a Technicolor fantasy nor sepia-tinted homely surroundings? This limbo state is where young Effy and her own trusty Toto land after a stormy night in writer-director Tim Crouch’s carefully constructed play for over-nines. On a great white rug evoking both shaggy fur and fluffy clouds, Effy considers how she got here – wherever “here” may be.
Crouch’s story comes in jigsaw pieces to assemble: a fire, a rainy road at night, a separation, a new start. Her mum is unwell so Effy must stay temporarily with her aunt and uncle, but four-legged friends are banned at their block of flats. Toto, her beloved rescue, is quietly sneaked into her bedroom in a box – but we know from the start that he can only play dead and go undetected for so long. Wearing headphones throughout, the audience navigate the voices of Effy’s relatives in between scenes performed by Peyvand Sadeghian as Effy and Felipe Pacheco as Toto, who also whispers in our ears.
Remember Six-Thirty, the dog who co-narrated Bonnie Garmus’s Lessons in Chemistry? Crouch gives his pooch even freer rein as Toto intermittently talks to us in detail about the vibrations that help him understand his embattled owner’s emotional states – and even how those vibrations might sound under water, for example. This audacious device, aided by Helen Skiera’s sound design, is used to both playful and profound effect.
Lily Arnold’s set, with the rug on a raised stage surrounded by Will Monks’ flickering blue lighting, powerfully conveys a liminal period of adolescence as well as the “place between worlds” where Effy and Toto find themselves. Sadeghian and Pacheco’s physicality (movement directed by Ingrid Mackinnon) captures the particular intimacy shared between pet and owner: the mischief and comfort, the intuitive understanding of each other’s rhythms.
Dressed in casual adult clothes (no furry onesie outfit or waggy tail attached here), Pacheco gives Toto puppy eyes, trembles at fireworks and perfects a sensuousness that conveys the luxury of receiving love. As he sprawls languorously at Effy’s side, the picture of fidelity, her poignant sense of not deserving affection herself is a stark contrast.
It does not flinch from considering death and loss but this 70-minute show also has a perky sense of fun: witness Toto leaping out of his box and rampaging to a rock soundtrack. But the play is a study in humans caring for each other, too, and Pacheco has an additional role as an inquisitive young boy desperate to befriend his new neighbour. “Stop, look and listen,” is the safety rule given to Effy by her mum early on in the play. Crouch asks us to do the same and you leave the theatre with sharpened senses.
At the Unicorn theatre, London, until 3 November
