Figs in Wigs: Big Finish

I’d not been to Battersea Arts Centre before, and neither had I seen a Figs in Wigs production. I’d heard great things about both, so I’d been looking forward to it since booking.

We made our way to the theatre after work, navigating our way across South London and around train cancellations during rush hour.

All travel stress was forgotten as I stepped into the building. I was aware of its history and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of respect for a space that began as a town hall, transformed into a community arts centre and not that long ago survived a major fire.

Arrived, we gathered in the BAC bar for pre-show drink. The beer taps were spewing froth, so we settled for cans. This set a tone of amusing disorder, foreshadowing scenes (and an actual foam machine) we’d witness later on stage.

Refreshed, we made our way up the grand set of stairs and filed into the Council Chamber – a room with tiered seating made up of individual metal folding chairs that reminded me a bit of the kind you’d find in a village hall.

Soft choral music and smoke filled the space. A large balloon giving off a gentle yellowy-orange glow hung suspended from the stage ceiling. A large silver pipe lay snaked across the stage floor.

The words “Chapter Zero” projected above the stage signalled the beginning. The audience laughed. The pipe that had laid motionless since we’d entered the room began to move, writhing across the floor. The sound of a narrator  announced that it was an AI conglomeration of all five members of Figs in Wigs’ voices. Minutes into the show I was already captivated.

What followed was a series of bizarre chapters, zig-zagging their way towards the ‘Big Finish’; Golf-playing lizards raking through piles of sand to collect cash; crabs in puffer jackets exquisitely dancing in sync; string-playing musicians propped up on ‘chair-less chairs’ courageously playing ‘My Heart Will Go On’ to a sinking ship.

Each chapter was uniquely absurd. Costumes, soundtracks and props were used to create separate self-contained worlds. Clear themes connected the chapters, despite there being no coherent plot to join them. Beginnings, endings, the cyclical nature of time. Sacrifice, embarrassment, and the bleak state of the arts. 

Each chapter was played out until its absolute end, the Figs performing repetitive actions past the threshold of what felt comfortable. They did so with ruthless conviction. I found myself making comparisons to the commitment often needed from those working the the arts. Refreshingly self aware, the Figs referenced the fact that most of their audience are artists themselves – a truth that allowed for a show heavily reliant on art world in-jokes to fill the room with knowing laughter. 

I can see how Figs in Wigs’ chaotic fever dream of a performance may not be for everyone.  During FOMO, a chapter which focused exclusively on foam slowly seeping from a pipe into a pile on the stage, three audience members left. Sadly, those who left missed out on the sheer joy that came later, as we watched the Figs rapturously crashing their way through the foam to the soundtrack of Dido’s ‘White Flag’. 

Whilst implied, it’s uncertain if this will be Figs in Wigs’ last production. During a faux Q&A section towards the end of Big Finish (which began with a hilarious subversion of the usual format, with the Figs calling on the audience to answer arts-council-funding-esque questions via the show of hands) it was revealed that they could only afford to pay one Fig per performance. A shocking (but perhaps not surprising) reality that encapsulated a key theme running through ‘Big Finish’: The approaching death of theatre. Grim as that is, it’s also encouraging that they continue to perform regardless, and are willing to take the sacrifice for the sake of their art. 

What is certain though, is that I’ll be booking tickets to see them if they do. I laughed throughout, was in awe of the physicality of their performance, and was bewitched by the surreal costumes and props. Weeks on and I’m still trying to make sense of it all.

The themes explored were heavy and pertinent, but the show at no point felt preachy. Instead, humour and chaos were used to translate our predicament (and impending doom) in a joyous and engaging way. If  everything’s already ruined, why not have a laugh as we watch the end approach?

Elly Walton created our illustration, see more work on their website.