Like Me

Like Me is an extremely surreal piece of interactive theatre. The night begins with your admission to Merchant’s House where your name is crossed off a giant brown list on the wall and you’re given the party popper that is your ‘ticket’ for the night. Wandering around the two floors and eight rooms of the venue to a creepy fairground-horror movie soundtrack, you stumble across strange, deformed figures in coloured jumpsuits sleeping on beds made of tangled cables and shattered screens. Bare bulbs and looped coils of wire are strung across the ceiling and old, discarded computer equipment is scattered in every available space.

After about ten minutes of wandering, the music kicks into high gear, the figures wake up and madness is unleashed.

It’s hard not to get swept up in Like Me’s absurd and frantic narrative. The actors put on superbly exaggerated performances as a troupe of insane inmates who want nothing more desperately than the audience’s love, and you’ll gradually become attached to each one as the night progresses, from the sad and sick Sam to the haughty Petur. Director Duncan Maurice’s deeply unsettling but irresistibly exciting world will get your blood pumping and your feet moving, culminating in a finale that will leave you bewildered but immensely satisfied. A room filled with audience members singing Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star together nearly unprompted is an experience that’s hard to forget.