Sydney Reviews

An absurdist coo, The Pigeons by David Gieselmann is an anarchic dovetail into the coop many modern age people feel caged in.

One of the characters coins the phrase “An echo cartel” and that’s mint in the surreal mayhem that ensues, a synapses short circuit with few lapses into logic.

Is the boss of a large company deceased or disappeared and is he taking a posthumous piss-take promoting an employee to his vacated position while eschewing his only begotten son who’d rather play Scrabble than play in the nether regions of a consenting Netherlander?

Does he have a French half-brother or is it a monstrous masquerade, and what of his penchant for blonde Dutch girls, especially those who brazenly embezzle, possibly passing themselves off as Swedish systems analysts?

To make no sense of the matter, there’s a cuckoo cuckolding psychiatrist, a shrink who can’t keep track of the patients he’s shagging and sometimes thinks he’s a dentist, careering from mental as anything to dental as anything.

Before it comes home to roost, The Pigeons is a case of the plot calling the fettle black, an ambush of ambiguity. 

Director Eugene Lynch has assembled an energetic ensemble oozing theme spirit, comprising Andrew Lindqvist, Lib Campbell, Mark Langham, Kath Gordon, Jackson Hurwood, Micaela Ellis, Kandice Joy, Dominic Lui and Tel Benjamin.

Lochie Odgers set design of filing cabinets, work stations and tin lockers complete with a mechanical twist add to the maniacal mayhem and lighting designer, Topaz Marlay-Cole provides a garish nightmare hue.

Costume Designer Lily Mateljan brings some visually stunning garnish with a particularity interesting tie worn by the fraud Freudian and subtle feather motifs for those adopting disguise.

Playing like a theatrical Scrabble game, The Pigeons is a show that requires experiencing not explaining and is just the ticket for the silly season.