Bryony Kimmings’ Bog Witch at Soho Theatre Walthamstow – review

With this latest slice of autobiographical eccentricity meets therapeutic unravelling, Bryony Kimmings and her audience go on a journey as unexpected and essential as it’s hilarious and heartfelt. Mixing songs, stand-up comedy, performance art, and inspired audience participation, Bog Witch is predominantly a delight, albeit one that comes with jagged edges, a sting in the tail, and bracing theatrical invention.

In common with acclaimed earlier works like I’m a Phoenix Bitch, Fake It Til You Make It and 7 Day Drunk, Kimmings makes the show all about herself. Sophisticated but shallow urbanite Bryony meets hot, age-appropriate eco-warrior and relocates to the countryside for a sustainable lifestyle free of the waste of environmentally harmful consumerism but also devoid of its creature comforts. It unfolds like a semi-tarnished fairytale complete with wry yet benign narration and whimsical shadow projections of dappled leaves, deers, rabbits etc (excellent work by Will Duke) plus our leading lady traipsing about in bucolic peasant dress like the rural idyll tourist she initially is.

As with most world class artists, the work hits hardest and best when it speaks to all of us. Kimmings is clever and disarmingly, off-handedly funny, but she’s also relatable… many people will inevitably watch Bog Witch and think, at least once, yep, that could be me. To be fair, she’s often spiky and mean (note how she satirises her partner’s passion for reading, and the way she looks down her nose at her new neighbours) but she’s also in a state of palpable pain and bewilderment.

A modern woman out of her comfort zone and othered by circumstance and attitude from her immediate environment is skilfully, subtly elided with the age-old concept of witches and the disturbances they evoke (hence the title), resulting in a couple of fleeting but quietly astonishing stage pictures. Most remarkable though is how Kimmings transforms herself with complete conviction from wise-cracking cynic via personal trauma (sensitively handled) to benign earth mother, but still with irrepressible sense of humour intact.

The fusion of domestic crisis with the broader ecological issues that affect all of us is pretty much seamless, as is the inclusion of songs, folky and deceptively ingenious, which further flesh out this unconventional tale of transformation and enlightenment, that occasionally mystifies but never preaches. Dividing Bryony’s first year away from city dwelling into the four seasons is a neat storytelling device, but could probably be compressed a bit (autumn in particular seems to go on forever), and the show as a whole could probably shed about twenty minutes without losing any of its considerable power and pleasure.

Kimmings is an authentic original and Bog Witch reflects that. The last section sees members of the audience actively involved and it would be a spoiler to describe exactly how that comes about. Suffice to say that the show ends on a note of life-enhancing communality that’s in marked contrast to Kimmings’ hilariously self-aware opening sequence yet entirely in conversation with it. Memorable, disturbing and wildly entertaining.