Fishskin Trousers review, Park Theatre

Time is like a balloon on which each of our lives is a drawing. As the balloon continues expanding infinitessimally the drawing recedes to a pinprick. Millions of other drawings are added: millions of lives interweaving across time and space until the balloon bursts and we become a black hole. This is the metaphor at the heart of Fishskin Trousers, a wondrous story set on the Suffolk coast and narrated by those who have drowned there over the centuries: women suspected of witchcraft, reckless young men driven by inner demons, a young woman today making a life or death decision...

The connecting strand between the individual stories of Mab, Ben, and Mog are not immediately apparent in Fishskin Trousers. We hear three very different personal narratives. Mab's is magical, couched in fantastical medieval language delivered in a slipping accent that alternately beguiles and irritates. Ben's is funny and prosaic and innocent and dark. It is Mog's modern fable, a situation in which the easy answer is not necessarily the right one, that offers hope.

Across 90 minutes the stories start to interweave and Robert Price's production draws us into a hidden world beneath the sea, a world of villages lost, bells ringing, and a strange scream picked up on certain radio frequencies. As the direction of travel reveals itself, the tension starts to mount. The last half hour of Fishskin Trousers is terrific, leading to a moment of recognition that is deeply moving and satisfying.  

In conclusion: Beautifully set and lit Fishskin Trousers draws strong performances from Brett Brown, Eva Trainor, and Jessica Carroll, and evokes the bleak Suffolk coast and its hidden depths. A poetic but sluggish first half impedes engagement with Elizabeth Kuti's script, but just when you give up hope, it rights itself. As does Mog's life.

Park Theatre, Clifton Terrace, London N4 3JP.    Run ends 11 November