The heyday of ventriloquism seems like a long time ago. It’s been decades since Roger De Courcey, Keith Harris, and Ray Alan were regular TV fixtures. On the stage, Nina Conti has bravely fought a rearguard action against the medium’s dying of the light, but its death rattle was being charted (thrown, of course) even 20 years ago. Yet here’s young clown Lachlan Werner stepping in to help (aptly, given the subject matter) reanimate the moribund artform. With his talent, a wonderful puppet sidekick, and occult and queer themes, he’s certainly made a good fist of it.
‘Lachie’ and Brew are a young man in choirboy garb and a small witch with a lazy eye, which gives her a lascivious air even before she opens her foul mouth. The pair are here to conduct an occult ritual, yet the timid Lachie doesn’t know that he’s the target for Brew’s demonic plan. As Brew sees it, she’s simply trying to raise the shy boy’s self-esteem. But of course things go much further than a little light human sacrifice.
‘Voices Of Evil’ is both darkly playful and incredibly silly. It takes no time for the audience to accept the ‘reality’ of Brew’s present as Werner brings her to life in a torrent of twitches, shrieks, and verbal abuse. The pair playfully interact with the audience asking what trinkets they’ve brought to the ritual, light on their feet as they turn even the most inconsequential offerings, ‘a crumpled flyer’, into a positive contribution. As things progress, it’s clear that Lachlan is quietly subverting the traditional dynamic of the ventriloquist. Whereas the puppet is normally used as a means of undermining the plans and pomposities of the human element, here Brew is the initial driving force of the narrative, and ‘Voices Of Evil’ becomes the story of ‘Lachie’ finding his identity and his autonomy. Given the Gothic overtones of the subject matter, it’s actually very sweet, in a gently perverse and sadomasochistic way, and genuinely life-affirming.
Yet, so successful and believable is Brew as a character that when she’s offstage for a sizeable chunk of the later stages, she is definitely missed. This isn’t to take anything away from Werner’s physical ability to contort his willowy frame and distort his normally softly-spoken voice on a sixpence. As a showcase for his clowning chops its great, and it’s arguably necessary for the show’s themes of self-discovery and sexual identity to come through; yet Lachie and Brew are so brilliantly established as a duo that the absence of the squishy witch itches like a phantom limb.
Still, as a showcase for Lachlan Werner’s considerable talents ‘Voices Of Evil’ is a startling and hilarious calling card. There may be life in the twitching corpse of ventriloquism yet, even if it’s a minor case of demonic possession. It’s already become a show much beloved wherever it’s been performed, and there is no reason to believe Edinburgh will be any exception.
‘Voices Of Evil’ runs until Sun 27 Aug 2023 at Pleasance Courtyard – The Cellar at 22:30