And Then She Let Herself Go lures the spiritually curious into the mysterious suburban backwater of Vogelmorn to attend a meditation retreat at the former Bowling Club.  It’s a kitschy building, rather run-down, and quite breezy and creaky in the North-Westerly on opening night, giving the show a sombre, even slightly creepy undertone. 

The meditation teacher is brusque, and somewhat jaded, but she appears to know her stuff. Soon she has us all sitting in our own space, eyes closed, and we’re concentrating on our breathing. Perhaps predictably the process begins to go off the rails as the visualisation exercises become more peculiarly specific and personal. 

This is a solo offering from Rachel Baker, formerly of Binge Culture Collective. It retains recognisable Binge-like qualities in its preponderance of listed images and visualisations, sensory experimentation beyond theatrical norms and a loose, organic structure with plenty of audience interaction. 

ATSLHG also trades heavily on Baker’s own ‘dreaminess.’ As a performer she has an earthy, laconic presence, her delivery almost slurred at times. This gives her burned-out new-ager character a base-level authenticity that keeps the performance from chiming any bum notes, but it’s also the quality that prevents the piece from achieving its potential dynamism. 

This production has charm and an intimate, personal feel which is pleasant to take part in but it suffers from many missed opportunities to extend the material into the realms of the unexpected.  Crucially, when the performance is mostly aurally experienced (i.e. we are listening with our eyes closed), the vocal performance has to do most of the grunt work.  Baker doesn’t show us enough range or technique here to lift the proceedings; instead the rhythm and tone become plodding.  So many opportunities to play with silence, with unexpected noises, but these are explored only cursorily and without real dramatic momentum.  I would have loved to discover more about ‘Rachel the guru’ through the tone rather than the content of her words. 

Similarly, each time we break the tyranny of having our eyes closed we hope for a more exciting reveal but again the opportunities here are largely missed. Without lighting of any kind at all, and on an overcast night, the dimness of the space adds to the lack of visual stimulation and creates an unformed, murky atmosphere.

In the absence of much visual storytelling or oral technique the text ends up telling the tale. As the narrative teases out, it reaches a satisfyingly unhinged climax and the final scene coheres the drama effectively. I know for a fact that the finale does not go according to plan on opening night but it still provides the biggest laugh for me, and it’s great that the show ends with a bang. 

Baker and director Isobel MacKinnon are clearly theatre-makers who evolve their work instinctively and organically, and this is the type of production where you’re likely to see significant differences to the show every single night. Baker has a lot to discover yet, to really make this production sing, but as any new-ager worth their Himalayan sea-salt will tell you: the journey is the destination.

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