The Butcher's Daughter at The Herald Theatre

By FRANCIS TILL

This is one of those rare productions that overwhelms, rather than blurs, genre. Almost a fairy tale, it is exceptionally adept physical theatre; but there's much more to it than that.

The play is centred on a whimsical, delightful set (Alan Green, designer) that is as important in performance as any character.

Stage left, a town built on a mountain, upon and out of which characters pop and leap to announce every new day and have their say on everything from the aphrodisiac properties of kidneys sauteed with garlic to the delusion-inspiring qualities of sausage.

Stage right, a tower dwelling, home and shop for the butcher, Papon (Phil Brown), and his adolescent daughter, Rena (Kate Parker). Above the tower, a hidden suitcase containing a magical spirit: the cherished, imprisoned ghost of Papon's wife, who died giving birth to Rena.

Stage centre, ribbons of silk upon which the performers climb and swing, daring disaster as they expand the stage with movements defying gravity in metaphoric and literal ways.

Charging this engaging spectacle is an appropriately operatic story of fabulous dimensions. The town's balanced serenity is invaded by a gypsy band, led by up-and-coming leading man Paolo Rotondo as Emillian, who arrives intending to steal the secret of the meat produced by the butcher and is stolen, instead, by the butcher's daughter.

There is singing, dancing, much flying through the air and an enormously confident, pervasive use of avant-garde puppetry and shadow-play.

Parker is compelling and supernaturally lithe; Rotondo is the embodiment of the romantic gypsy; Brown is powerfully grounded and complex. With a handful of supporting actors, each of whom shines in cameo, they bring the tiny world fully to life. Great fun, even when the mock-Spanish accents intrude.

Inspired by Parker, the collaborative work is directed by Julie Nolan, who keeps it all three-dimensional and crisply paced.