One true joy of the Fringe is never quite knowing what you as an audience member are about to witness. The large sign labelled “Believe in the Chickens; Poultron Church” emblazoned above the stage when entering the theatre space for No Higher Purpose only indicates a mild clue about the hour and half to follow; peculiar, unexpected and yet some of the most original and engaging material I witnessed during the festival.
No Higher Purpose, an original musical performed by Manchester-based company Beware of the Theatre, is brave, bizarre, and raucously funny. Leaving the theatre, my stomach ached from laughing — and judging from those around me, I was not alone in this sentiment. The side-splitting hilarity of the show comes from more than the written humour itself. It comes from the way the show and performers deliberately don’t take themselves particularly seriously, leaning heavily into the ridiculousness of its premise, and in doing so becomes profound in a way that is absent from many performances that don’t exhibit a sense of self-awareness about watching something truly odd. It is odd, but it works perfectly.
The show’s premise itself follows a post-apocalyptic world where an isolated group start to slowly question their conditioned belief system about the divine power of yes, chickens. It holds just enough information back from the audience that the premise is given a certain level of self-interpretation (whether a commentary on cult mentality, on religion, on rural brainwashing, or all of the above, it’s up to you to decide). In the way it blatantly swaps elements of organised religion with yes, chickens, the show manages to simultaneously drive home a message so on the nose it’s part of the reason it’s so genuinely funny.
Even without its Catholicism metaphors, the story itself stands strong; the world No Higher Purpose builds is impressively immersive for its runtime. A large part of this comes down to how fully-fledged the characters are — each performer perfectly understanding the part they’re playing, their backstories, their individual relationships with one another, their gimmicks, and their stereotypes.
Between this, the music — witty, catchy, and fun — and the world the performance effectively draws us into, the show manages to be as heartfelt as it is funny. It leaves the audience maybe with their sides aching from laugher, but also with a beautiful open-ended message as its ensemble runs into the audience to beautifully symbolise their abandonment both of the belief that individuals are ordained with some higher purpose, to the importance of trying to find one.
Image courtesy of Amelia Selby, provided to The Student as press material.
