Review: NATURE THEATER OF OKLAHOMA: NO PRESIDENT, Southbank Centre
Photo credit: Heinrich Brinkmöller-Becker
Nature Theater of Oklahoma is an avant-garde New York art and performance company. Led by Pavol Liska and Kelly Copper, the company is not afraid to challenge convention — or its audiences.
No President is set in a bleak near-future and follows Mikey (Ilan Bachrach) and Georgie (Bence Meze), two out-of-work actors now making ends meet by working for a private security company. They are also best friends, and sometimes rivals. Their latest assignment? Guarding a mysterious theatre curtain. That’s it. But what begins as a strangely poetic act of custodianship soon devolves into theatrical absurdity, as they find themselves under siege by a rival security firm made up entirely of ex-ballet dancers.
This is the company’s London debut, but their aesthetic makes itself known fast: relentless, self-aware, and completely uninterested in easing you in. What unfolds is a wild, genre-smashing ride through dance theatre, grotesque comedy, and anarchic action. The piece spirals through physical chaos, bizarre rituals, and existential musings, all while satirising the actual reality we live in.
The cast commits fully to the farce; they know exactly what they are doing and don’t apologise. Bachrach brings wild stamina as the ill-fated Mikey, while Robert M. Johanson delivers an extraordinary performance as the Narrator, barely taking a moment to breathe as he speaks 99% of the time. You gradually realise you have to give up hope that he will ever stop talking.
The structure of the work relies heavily on narration — constant narration — hammering the audience with over-explained exposition and ironic detours throughout. Performers writhe, leap, and strut with fierce commitment, but little recognisable technique. The choreography feels more like calisthenics. Scenes of inner demons, manifesting as sex demons, prance across the stage. Existential spirals are induced by eating bags of Cheetos and yes, a pseudo-justification of cannibalism is delivered with unnerving sincerity, in the form of a deranged children’s fable.
At two and a half hours long, the show tests patience as much as perception. It doesn’t aim to please. In fact, it seems to revel in the opposite and if this review gave it one star, they might be happy with that. Many audience members found opportunities to escape, or shout in disgust. The third or so who remained offered a standing ovation at the end. Whether out of genuine appreciation or sheer relief is hard to say.
And yet, something lingers. Beneath the absurdist surface lies a critique of power and insecurity. The central character, Mikey’s descent, from anxious nobody to cog in a coercive, surveillance-obsessed Orwellian system, feels chillingly familiar. There's something deeply recognisable about the way systems promise purpose, then swallow identity whole.
You might hate it. Many clearly did. But Nature Theater of Oklahoma isn’t interested in being liked, or, at least, we hope not. They’re here to shake reality loose, and in their own maddening way, they succeed.
You might leave.
There’s a very good chance.
But what if you stay?
*** Three stars
Reviewed by: Stephanie Osztreicher
