To call Mulberry a lockdown show would be to do it a great disservice. There are very few casual, clichéd references to Joe Wicks or sourdough here.
Instead, it’s one man’s howl at the injustices wreaked by the pandemic on him personally. A man – no, a poet – sliding into isolation-induced depression, grappling with who he is when denied his friends and his career. A career Tim Key was sure was on the verge of ‘household name’ territory before some herbert decided to munch on a bat.
‘What sort of society locks down its celebrities?’ he wails. ‘You guys, I understand. Stop the spread. But us?’
He saw it coming, mind. In a desperate attempt not to spend the impending lockdown alone went ‘panic dating’. Like so many of his schemes, it didn’t work out, and now only adds to the image of a man desperately trying to find a foothold as certainties crumble beneath his feet. Such recollections lend pathos to his witty account, exaggerating the poignancy of his frustrated response to it all.
He has enough everyman in him to address the universality of the situation, but with a sense of believing himself special that heightens the impotence and confusion. Meanwhile, the weirdness of lockdown is fuel for his more surreal imaginings, expressed through his trademark off-kilter poems, written on playing cards that he tosses around the stage.
Key’s persona has long been that of someone struggling to hold it all together – the faux chumminess stopping him from losing his balance completely, as if one wrong interaction from the audience might unleash his fury, or his breakdown. Lockdown is what actually tipped him over and this insightfully hilarious show is how he’s processing the damage to both his pride and sense, a jeopardy that drives comedy with some force.
But his anger at Covid is now in the rear-view mirror, eradicated by the newly rediscovered freedoms of being back on stage. Any pretence of grouchiness has dissolved almost completely.
Key tries to maintain his deadpan, but his eyes sparkle with delight at being with others again. The banter positively fizzles as he compares his experiences to his audience’s, each response pounced on with a mischievous glee and brilliantly quick wit. With the comic uncaged and roaring to play, the atmosphere’s as infectious as the delta variant as he marshals these once-illicit giggles.
The sparse set is a constant reminder of the tougher times. A front door whose threshold he is not allowed to cross and the fridge stocked with Beavertown Neck Oil to get him through. It’s simple but effective, as are the subtle sounds cues and theatrical garnishes that make the show even more satisfying.
As the 75 minutes end, he bleakly imagines an alternative authoritarian future we glimpsed, when every action is heavily regulated. The relief that did not come to pass is palpable - and a heartwarming reminder of what we don’t ever want to lose again.
• Tim Key: Mulberry is at the Arcola Theatre in Dalston, East London, until Saturday, then an EartH in Hackney nexy Friday before a UK tour in 2023. Tim Key tour dates.
