Nature Theater of Oklahoma: No President

Nature Theater of Oklahoma: No President

Southbank Centre’s Queen Elizabeth Hall, until Friday 11 July

An intoxicating blend of semiotic play, corporeal wit, and philosophical provocation

Where to begin? No President is wildly creative, utterly bonkers, and enormous fun. Presented by Nature Theater of Oklahoma and directed by the genre-defying duo Pavol Liska and Kelly Copper, this is theatre as you’ve never seen it before: intellectually playful, visually absurd, and performed with serious stamina.

Before we get into the meat of it (pun intended), it’s worth noting that this production comes with several trigger warnings; self-harm, cannibalism, sexual content but all handled through an overtly comic lens. If you’re a seasoned theatregoer or someone who doesn’t take things too seriously, you’re likely to have a joyous time.

Stylistically, it’s an exciting mash-up. The sexual content, for instance, is staged in a kind of Lysistrata-meets-cartoon fashion, with multicoloured phallic objects fixed onto bodysuits. Any bloodshed? Represented by fluttering silk handkerchiefs, naturally. The production revels in its own sense of the ridiculous, but it’s also meticulously thought-through and surprisingly cerebral.

The script delivered is heightened, at times academic and feels like a vocabulary bootcamp. I swear my own lexicon has expanded tenfold just from watching this show. It’s this juxtaposition between the highly literate narration and the delightfully daft visuals that makes the piece so captivating. It shouldn’t work, but it really, really does.

The undeniable powerhouse of the evening is Robert M. Johanson, who plays the Narrator/Devil. He speaks continuously for nearly the entire 2 hours and 15 minutes with barely a moment to breathe, let alone sip water. His delivery is relentless yet perfectly pitched, and his ability to maintain character while navigating the winding, repetitive, self-referencing script is nothing short of extraordinary.

While Johanson drives the language, the physical world is brought to life by a talented ensemble performing in the style of a mock ballet. Think contemporary dance meets political satire. Ilan Bachrach, in the role of Mikey, is also onstage throughout; using interpretive movement to flesh out the increasingly surreal plot. The whole thing plays out like a fever dream, filtered through the lens of 20th-century experimental theatre.

At its most distilled, the narrative centres on a romantic rivalry between best friends, overlaid with critiques of workplace hierarchy, meaningless jobs, and existential ennui. On the surface, it all seems rather questionable, absurd even, but I’m certain someone could unpick it through a deeply political lens if they wanted to. There are hints of commentary on capitalism, power structures, and societal apathy, though the production never spells anything out directly. But to summarise it so simply would be to undersell what is ultimately a deeply layered theatrical experience. It’s part dance piece, part philosophical monologue, part anarchic comedy.

This marks the company’s London debut, and I can’t recommend it enough. It won’t be for everyone, if you prefer your theatre conventional, this may not hit the mark, but if you’re open to a bit of chaos, this is a riotous, provocative delight.

Photo Credit Heinrich Brinkmöller-Becker