Food

Food is about food the same way The Cherry Orchard is about cherries; it's not a celebration, it's a survivor's story.

Nancy (Emma Jackson) and Elma (Mel King) are estranged sisters caged in their late mother's chip shop, their shared history so veined with old trauma it's a wonder there's room for the set's cluttered pans. Hakan (Fayssal Bazzi) is a Turkish interloper who arrives like a one-man unbalancing act, off-kilter and endearing, diction tumbling in cartwheels. Equal parts humorous and unsettling, Food is an alluring double-act.

Our trio is faultlessly good, interacting like a triple Venn diagram, shifting fluidly between individual soliloquy, tense pairs, and everyone together in mad collocation. Steve Rodgers' script is nimble and dexterously hilarious. Kate Champion's direction can turn on a dime. Every moment of joy has a dark rabbit hole of memory beneath it, the set suddenly lighting with disembodied faces (all pixelated lips and teeth), the music bewitching. In these moments, Food is as powerful and breathless as any theatre you'll see. It bristles with physical glee and smart humour, but Food is a story of past hurt: claustrophobic, crystalline and dark.

This is a production of unique experiential power, contradiction and showpiece. Following its Belvoir-only debut in 2012, Food is back for a limited run – second chances like this should not be passed up.