Search

Saved articles

You have not yet added any article to your bookmarks!

Browse articles

GDPR Compliance

We use cookies to ensure you get the best experience on our website. By continuing to use our site, you accept our use of cookies, Privacy Policy, and Terms of Service.

PAINKILLERS

 
Mark Harding Review by Mark Harding 3 Published: 15 Aug 2025 Summerhall Show Dates: 31 Jul 2025-25 Aug 2025

Summarising the action of this show is like relating one of those hazy dreams where the details constantly shift. It opens with the magician’s assistant, Marie (or is it Mamoru?), performing the bullet trick. She’s the assistant, but also the magician. The settings alternate between the stage and the dressing room, with a mirror-image dressing room and alternate stage. Mamoru mimes to recorded speech, but usually speaks in her own voice. She changes from a woman to a more gender-ambiguous figure, and finally a man – perhaps.

David Lynch on drugs

As a performer, Mamoru has a charming air of uncertainty. At first, the performance appears a little amateur and ramshackle, a random collection of absurdist jokes. But as it progresses, underlying themes emerge. There is even a narrative structure.

On one level, Marie/Mamoru is a comedy character who could have appeared on Vic Reeves Big Night Out (for those old enough to remember that series). On another, the show could be David Lynch on drugs.

The striking thing is the sense of fluidity – Marie’s body is fluid in gender and its physical components. Identity also shifts: is it Marie or Mamoru? Is the mirror Mamoru the same as the first Mamoru? Is that audience member the magician or the assistant?

How powerful these images are, and how long they will stay with you, is open to question.

Why is it called Painkillers? I have no idea.

Related to this article:

Location:

Performances

The Blurb:

PAINKILLERS delves into physical and emotional pain through magic tricks and romantic memories. Mamoru, a magician's assistant who enjoys her large knitted body, is at the mercy of knives, saws and guns, on and off stage. 'So much wily humour and visual wit. An incarnation of what is raw, visceral and unprotected about the selves we harbour behind clothes, relationships, even the names we assume' (Mary Brennan, Herald). 'Plenty offbeat charm as (s)he(!) treats a booty load of themes... showbiz magic/gender metamorphosis/penetration/death' (Donald Hutera). Award-winning performance maker returns to Summerhall with his acclaimed show.