Fidel Gastro’s

Went and saw Fuerzabruta last night at the Roundhouse theatre in Camden. What is it? It’s Spanish for Brute Force but in terms of the performance - I’m still not sure. It’s a combination of a rave, a levitating paddling pool, a giant treadmill, a sail with people attached to it - made of tin-foil and bog rolls, and a glittery human version of the motorcycle wall of death. All with a side order of water and perspex viewed boobies.

I suppose that still doesn’t make much sense but here are some photos to help visualise the madness.

more photos here

And here is my video of the finale involving a giant staircase, a big wall of boxes and the obligatory jumbo treadmill.

It was a big visual, tactile, aural feast and well worth it; if you go for the 10pm on Friday or Saturday it turns into a big mental club afterwards. I had thought it would be similar to ‘O’ which I saw in Vegas but this was more interactive (you had to move around the venue, touch the performers through the levitating paddling-pool and see how all the machinery/props worked close up. Finishes up on the 31st August so get in there.

Went to Gilgamesh afterwards which is this comedy £16million bar/restaurant/lounge club gozilla-esque monster of a venue which truly belongs in Vegas. Gaudy, kitsch, tacky and named after the Babylonian King of Uruk - it’s a bit of a mess. Staff are physically and mentally slow to the point where it seems deliberate and cool but the food partially redeems the experience ; pan-Asian despite the ‘King Midas having an epileptic fit and touching everything frenzy’-cross-Assyrian theme of the whole thing.

Given the Babylonian/Sumerian twist I had hoped the staff were dressed like that sexy cat Gozer the Destructor from Ghostbusters and could threaten me with a marshmellow-martini related apocalypse.

‘Choose! Choose the form of the Destructor!’
‘Um - a double gin and tonic? A really big one?’
‘The choice is made. The order will come - shazam!’

Then if we were lucky there’d be two giant demonic dog-like creatures wandering around the premises - maybe called Zuul and Vinz Clortho. Ideally Vinz would sometimes speak through the body of the toilet-dude asking for both a quid and whether you were the Gatekeeper, meanwhile Zuul would take the form of the mardy cloakroom attendant and would mainly bark, drool and growl at you while claiming no knowedge of your coat and Paul Smith scarf.