There’s a moment early in Little Drops of Rain – a Taiwanese import from Bon Appétit Theatre – when you realise you’re in for something delightfully different. No dialogue, no text, and barely a nod to traditional plot structure. Just four performers, some puppets, and an arsenal of equipment that looks like it’s been borrowed from a sound engineer’s fever dream.
Inventive, charming, and full of quiet wonder – though the story sometimes gets lost in the rain
The story, such as it is, follows a young girl navigating a parched world who stumbles upon a single drop of water. Along the way, she meets rainclouds, robots, and various other abstract weather-related phenomena. Whether or not you can follow the logic of her journey feels largely beside the point. This is less about narrative coherence and more about mood, texture, and the gentle magic of watching objects come alive.
The puppetry is delicate and effective, but the real stars here are the sound artists – two performers who conjure every splash, stomp, rumble, and robotic clank live on stage. Their setup resembles a medical rig: all cables, bars, and mysterious instruments that produce astonishingly specific noises. It’s inventive, charming, and frankly impressive that they managed to ship it all the way from Taiwan.
But while the show sounds gorgeous, it doesn’t quite land emotionally. The central character’s journey, while beautifully rendered, lacks the clarity or tension to fully engage – particularly for the younger children it seems to be aimed at. The atmosphere is lovely, but there’s a risk of style drifting too far ahead of substance.
Still, at just 45 minutes, Little Drops of Rain is an enjoyable and gently hypnotic experience. It may not stick in the memory as a complete story, but as a piece of sensory theatre, it has moments of quiet wonder. More cohesion and a clearer emotional arc would take it further – but even as it stands, this is a show with heart, ingenuity, and a lot of beautifully timed splashing.
