Works and Days is a visually stunning, beautifully-scored look at the human experience through the ages from Belgian theatre collective FC Bergman. It manages to provide the audience with the sense of looking at three-dimensional, living paintings while also utilising movement and frenetic energy well.

Opening with the cast entering and walking with purpose to the front of the stage, one member begins to smash the floor with a hammer, sending shards of wood flying in all directions. There’s an instant sense that this show will aim to surprise and subvert theatrical tradition, as is FC Bergman’s wont.

This uprooting of the stage continues with a plough being dragged across the front of the set, shredding the floorboards and sending a fresh wave of wood chips onto the floor of the theatre. The instant sense of shock and chaotic but controlled energy is maintained throughout the entire show.

The play is wordless and the plot amorphous and unexplained. Billed as a look at human existence throughout time it doesn’t quite manage to effectively capture the feel of storytelling and remains cold and alienating. There’s a sense of movement through time but it feels disjointed and stunted at points, often lingering or rushing at moments where it doesn’t feel appropriate.

Where the piece is most effective is in its beautiful staging. The creation of living paintings is breathtakingly done, with the most effective being a large engine, billowing steam, which bucks and moves as the entirely naked cast caress it. Oil drips from a faucet and coats one actor as she moves beneath it, creating a fascinating pattern across her body.

Similarly, the moments where a house frame is constructed on stage and draped with multicoloured fabrics is visually stunning and creates a sense of immersion. Every actor is perfectly poised and moves immaculately together, whether they’re throwing confetti or stomping on wood chips they emit unwavering energy and precision.

There are moments that feel designed solely to create outrage or discomfort. A naked man is hung upside down by his ankles and then takes the hand of a small child who leads him around the stage. In another moment, a live chicken is placed into a bag and the audience are led to believe it is killed as the actor slams the bag repeatedly into the stage as blood begins to seep out. Without any real sense of grounding or context, the scenes come across as aiming to cause shock for shock’s sake. If there is a greater artistic meaning then it’s lost in the confused laughter and screams of the audience which render the moments farcical.

The action is accompanied by live music from Joachim Badenhorst and Sean Carpio wielding a range of instruments from distorted saxophones to clarinets to more unusual instruments like a ring of bells played with a violin bow. The effect is both otherworldly and recognisable, veering from folk music to industrial screeching and the switching between instruments is seamless and impressive.

Overall, Work and Days creates beautiful visual scenes and the action onstage is expertly carried out by a group of talented and tireless actors, however the lack of cohesive message or plot and sometimes off-putting, provocative imagery prevents it from being truly effective.