winter-warm imagination
It’s not a bad idea to be invited to a “fireside” in Wembley on a freezing, rainy Sunday morning. And although there’s no real fire in Punchdrunk Enrichment Wembley, imagination and community make up for it.
Fireside Tales is Punchdrunk Enrichment’s new immersive performance for children aged 7 to 11, welcoming young people (and beyond) into a local store that collects stories. The concept of a “story shop” is genuinely intriguing, reminding me of countless manga I read that sell similar concepts, such as Petshop of Horrors, xxxHolic, and Kino’s Journey. What’s even more compelling is the idea of characterising stories by elemental forces of fire, water, earth and air. Among these, fire stories are the most tricky: rare, mysterious, dangerous, but paradoxically carries with hope.
As usual, Punchdrunk is never stingy when it comes to props (Designer Mydd Pharo). The story shop, feels nostalgic, timeless and spaceless, as if it could be in anywhere, either in New York’s Chinatown, or a suburban Japanese snack shop, or even Shanghai in the early 90s. You can explore, touch and play with them: a fortune-teller’s crystal ball, a book, or an old telephone that many young kids nowadays may not even recognise. You feel you could spend hours in the shop.
After a “fire story” is delivered but escaped, the crowd is led to the backyard, where a big bonfire stands in the middle. Shop staff Cosi (Rebecca Clark) and Ali (Amari Harris) tells their stories about home, childhood and friendship. Clark has a warm, resonant voice that is not only soothing but also intelligent; she lends Steve McCourt’s script a vivid, poetic texture. Harris on the other hand, is energetic, playful, and wonderfully improvisational, forging easy conversations with the children. However, their stories, feels merely adequate. It’s difficult to work out why the stories of Cosi and Ali matter to illustrate the importance of storytelling.
Throughout the script, there are too many layers of meta-storytelling to demonstrate that significance. Yes, stories matter. Yes, they define us. Yes, they are the way of thinking beyond dialectics. But do the kids really know? Do they know why story matters? Our whole journey lacks that solid story to be defining and inspiring, and to justify its own magnificent world-building. At the moment, the whole production feels like unwrapping an onion, only to find nothing in the middle.
Besides, I also have another lingering concern. For an interactive, immersive performance aimed primarily at children, how does the production respond to kids who don’t behave in the “expected” way? At the show I attended, most children were participatory and collaborative. But I overheard one boy quietly say “no” when asked if they felt brave enough to explore the backyard. What would happen if he had been the one chosen for further interaction? Would the cast ignore him, or leave him alone? Or would they adapt? How does the show make space for children who are shy, anxious, or simply different from the participatory norm? On my way home, I couldn’t stop thinking about that.