Peacock Theatre, London.
28 January 2026.
Part of MimeLondon, I thought this production of BIGRE / Fish Bowl by Pierre Guillois, and co-written by Agathe L’Huillier and Olivier Martin-Salvan, was going to be quirky and maybe a little indefinable. What I got was addictive physical theatre that was quite literally a nosey neighbour’s dream!
People-watching at its best, the set – by Laura Léonard – took a cross-section of three compact attic apartments in Paris belonging to three singletons, a window at the back for the central flat, and skylights for the outer two. Three spaces that couldn’t have been decorated and lived in more differently by their occupants.
I loved how much we learned about each of the three characters and their lives and personalities, without any dialogue at all, mime and movement speaking their own language. It’s a touching, warts-and-all relatable portrayal of life. From the minimalist flat where everything is white and electronically operated, whose occupant hoovers the bottom of his feet each time he enters, to the messy central flat, overflowing due to a hoarding issue, by a well-meaning character who gets things wrong every time. And a pink feminine flat on the end, it’s female occupant continually trying out a new career option.
When deciding to become a hairdresser, she checked instructions in a book, then ruined the minimalist’s hair which fell off after she dyed it. A fantastic moment of physical theatre. The female also owned the fish-bowl – the namesake of the production – and accidentally poured detergent into the water, turning it blue. She took it to the sink to clean and ended up losing the fish to next doors sink where it flapped up and down due to the pressure she applied while trying to plunge it back to her. She broke the fourth wall numerous times, which worked well, turning to share her expressions with the audience.
Misunderstandings were plentiful and highlighted how easily this happens in life. The female began a relationship with the minimalist guy, whilst the other man tolerated loneliness, hearing them enjoy themselves. He got a pet rabbit, fed it, killed it and ate it, which would have felt barbaric had it not been presented in such a farcical manner.
One of this production’s best features was its ability to present serious subjects humorously. It was very powerful to see the three existing so close to one another, yet far away at the same time, inside their own four walls.
The attention to detail held the key to success. They were each bothered by the same fly in the middle of the night – but dealt with it in very different ways. If activity in one flat was spotlighted, occupants in the other two were preparing in the shadows for their next scene, moving props, changing clothes in just a few seconds before lights were up on them again. The fast pace was very appealing.
Accompanying the mime were recorded sound effects, such as toilet noises. And music too – a French radio station played in opening scenes, and later the minimalist guy sang karaoke in his room; but without singing actual words.
The female sunbathed topless on her roof, climbing out her skylight. Meanwhile, the man in the central flat was washing up but listening to birdsong. On the call of a particular bird, he grabbed his binoculars and dashed to the window. It was clear where that scenario would end up, but was so cleverly executed, and fun to wait for the inevitable to happen.
The ending was simple and strong. The female had temporarily left, pregnant by another partner. She returned during a storm, alone with the baby and climbed onto the roof sobbing. Her two neighbours sprang into action trying to get up on to the roof to help her; falling over each other, one of them falling down the trash chute – humour again in a serious situation. And eventually the three of them shared quiet meaningful looks across the roof, before blackout.
I was just at the point of thinking the epilogue that followed was pretty unnecessary, when they hit the final punchline, and the toilet in the minimalist’s flat – which opened on one clap and closed again on two – malfunctioned, exploded and covered them all with brown gunge. Silly, but quite the ultimate ending as it brought together the many times the toilet had featured, opening at the wrong time.
We the audience smiled and laughed all the way through. Surely we need more of that in the theatre, in life?
By Louise Ryrie of Dance Informa.
