Words: Elodie Marriott
Image: Mihaela Bodlovic

4 stars

We enter the room to a confusing cacophony of firing guns and the neighing of distressed horses. Looking back, these sounds were a warm-up. A precursor for the surreal odyssey that will take a man through his apartment building, listening to strange confessional songs performed by his neighbours.

The set is minimal, a piano, a harp, and a bass. Yet through Todd Almond’s melodic conversations the story is incredibly vivid. When he struggles to peel himself off of a human-sized glue trap, you almost begin to feel your own back getting sticky. He has excellent comedic timing, the long pauses after purposely inane rhetorical questions and his clear enunciation all add to the success of the bizarre humour. The songs are diverse, triumphantly capturing each quirky character, from the vampire to the woman afraid of being annoying. The abrupt mood changes and the frantic chase scene conjured entirely from the piano are thrilling.

The highlight of the show, which encapsulates its outlandish nature, is a musical rendition of a heart’s conflicting desires. The singer is the neighbour’s missing cat, who claims to be 53% of the protagonist’s dead mother. The amount of emotion that can be conveyed with a meow is gleefully surprising, and perhaps needs to be seen to be believed.

I’m Almost There
Summerhall, Main Hall
14:45
Aug 3-11, 14-18, 20-26, 14:45