So begins Out of Order – a madcap tale full of pithy narrative and passionate nationalism, not to mention a delicious koeksister cameo. It’s South African history like you’ve never heard it before. Mainly, of course, because it’s all completely fabricated. But still, you know. Still.

Out of Order marks the first collaboration between up-and-coming theatre production companies The Pink Couch and The Space Behind the Couch – as if it wasn’t tricky enough distinguishing between their names. The Pink Couch has an eye for comic book style vignettes (employed by director Tara Notcutt to superb effect in Mafeking Road). The Space Behind the Couch has an ear for quirky narrative (last heard in the zany banter of the undead in director Beren Belknap’s Madame Touxflouwe). Together with original animation from Jeremy Carver, this collaboration brings a wealth of young, creative talent to the local stage.

The two-hander features James MacGregor (Shakespeare’s R+J, Madame Touxflouwe) and Gabriel Marchand (Sadako, I Love You When You’re Breathing). MacGregor plays the (oh-so-)straight guy to Marchand’s chipper jokester. There’s a wonderfully balanced energy between these two – their irreverent approach and deadpan banter brings to mind moments from comedy classics like Monty Python. They are committed and clever with the script. They are, also, hellofa funny.

In what could be a case of ageing eyes and ears, I felt the sound levels needed some fine-tuning at times. I also found the animation lost some effect – and narrative clarity – by being projected in a relatively small area on an uneven background. Aside from these small details, I was sold.

Quick march to the Intimate – the show ends this week. If you do, MacGregor and Marchand will have you in stitches. The good kind.

OfficeBLOCK – the latest offering from the integrated Deaf and hearing physical theatre group FTH:K – explores this idea. A series of snapshots set around a water cooler of ingenious (at times anthropomorphic) design, artistic director Rob Murray takes corporate cool to a whole new level.

The piece is a work-in-progress – a preview of a process that’s going to take FTH:K to Washington to collaborate with another integrated theatre team over the next year. Already, though, it shows much promise, with some inventive sequences and of course Murray’s signature style of exploring dark subject matter through an ostensibly playful physical approach.

Currently, the play takes the form of choreographed movement sequences that tell a tale of insiders and outsiders, of politics and power, of fitting in and speaking out. Featuring the talents of Christopher Beukes, Liezl de Kock, Sinethemba Mgebisa and Marlon Snyders, each vignette has a different title and distinctive feel.

For me, the “Boy’s Club” sequence – featuring the wonderful Liezl de Kock in a look at general gender politics in the office – was particularly powerful. In a scene that begins with a tease and ends with utter degradation, the message hit home like a fist to the face.

OfficeBLOCK is going to go through many changes before it arrives at its final form. As the vignettes develop and coalesce, I think it will come together into a more manageable and satisfying narrative shape. It’s always a privilege to see something develop, though, especially when the process is as enjoyable as this. Watch out for this one – it’s, quite literally, going places.

I’ve been a fan of Nicola’s since Betesda and Lot – two of her site-specific hits at various local festivals (though sadly, as yet, not in Cape Town). Despite lacking language confidence, I jump at the – sadly rare – opportunity to see Afrikaans theatre in Cape Town.

Hol is more than just an opportunity to see Afrikaans theatre, though. It is an opportunity to see complexity of script, inventive simplicity of set and utter mastery of breath and movement. It’s a chance to see Nicola Hanekom blow you away with what is one of the hardest-hitting, most powerful performances I’ve seen on stage this year.

One woman. A treadmill. Seventy minutes (or, as Hanekom personally likes to measure it, eight kilometers) of astounding performance detailing one woman’s obsession with her physical and mental limits. It’s hard to simplistically label this piece physical theatre. The work is beautifully – sometimes brutally – physical, yes, but the script is so central, the words so elegant and densely packed with layers of meaning that is that rare play that proves just as cerebral as it is visual.

My greatest regret is that my language skills weren’t up to the test of fully appreciating Hanekom’s wordsmithery. Did this prevent me from being completely blown away? Not in the slightest.

You need to see Hol. It is a profoundly powerful work and Hanekom’s performance is a tour de force.

Belknap as the Second-to-Youngest Whomper

Tale of Horror features the professional puppet manipulation expertise of Gabriel Marchand and Beren Belknap (old hands at tweaking life into inanimate objects for companies of the likes of Handspring) as well as the fresh talent of the very charming Joanna Evans. Following the journey of the overlooked and (to him) under-appreciated second-to-youngest Whomper child in his seriously magical adventures at the bottom of the garden, the piece weaves an intricate web of make believe.  Carver maintains the story’s delicate balance between gleeful romp and sophisticated narrative, leaving the audience – no matter what their age – transported to a world where we see both the hidden dangers and magic in the everyday.

A particular delight in this witty piece was the sheer visual inventiveness. Belknap and Carver have lovingly reimagined the Whomper world – the multi-functional set and range of puppet styles are a creative triumph. In magnificent cameos, a pair of mismatched Australian Vietnam war veteran sock puppets play alongside some seriously slithery stocking mud snakes. Of particular delight is the mini-human puppet of the Youngest Whomper Child, played to giggling audience approval by a crouching Marchard complete with an ingeniously detachable headless bodypuppet.

In a play with both human and puppet interaction, then, Belknap, Marchand and Evans are called on at various points to be both manipulators and actors. They rise to the occasion admirably and Carver shows excellent direction in focussing the action to either highlight or background their presence depending on the demands of the role.

Tale of Horror is well-crafted with wonderful characterisation and, despite the male narrative lead, a strong feminist message. With this piece, Carver is joining the capable ranks of theatre makers whose work proves that theatre for children does not mean intellectual pandering and that visual play and laughter are gifts that should be enjoyed by all ages. I certainly hope that Tale of Horror finds a life outside of the university environment – it is the kind of quality family theatre that we need to encourage.

With the aid of the ever-talented duo of Mathew Lewis  (Lenny and the Wasteland) and Andrew Laubscher (Lovborg’s Women, Is it Because I’m Jack?), Notcutt takes us through the best of Bosman’s short stories from the perspective of that most loved of all South African narrators, Oom Schalk Lourens. Lewis and Laubscher seem to be having as much fun as we do, as they take us on a giddy gallop through the Groot Marico’s biggest social goings on. Whether you’re a longstanding fan of Bosman or a new convert, you’re going to love the ride.

Adapting one short story for the stage is a tough ask. Adapting a series, especially a series as intrinsic to the South African Afrikaaner psyche as Bosman’s, is a near-impossibility. Notcutt has taken some bold stylistic choices here that may have traditionalists somewhat taken aback, but which work a theatrical treat. Lewis and Laubscher work as a narrative team, channelling a music hall style of banter that is all the more humorous for its thick local flavour. Taking turns to play the coveted role of Oom Schalk, they keep up a playful, fast-paced energy that ensures the audience are right there with them in every adventure.

I particularly enjoyed the comic book style of narration where, stripped of any props, the pair play out the action using every ingenious application of physical skill possible: hands become characters, minutely playing out the action on the large-scale ‘set’ of an arm or back and sound effects are gleefully introduced at every turn. If it weren’t for the very adult talent on show, the pair would resemble nothing so much as gleefully overgrown schoolboys having a riotous storybook romp in an idle hour before supper. Mafeking Road is a reminder of how good a cracking tale can be…and why you don’t need big budget sets to win over an audience.

Mafeking Road has already toured to rave reviews at the Voorkamer Festival, the Grahamstown festival and, most recently, to the Groot Marico itself, for the Bosman Literary festival. You don’t have to get on your horse to see it this time around – it’s playing at the Intimate Theatre in town until 5 November.  Go on – Oom Schalk is waiting.

It’s no secret that I’m often sceptical of message theatre. I often find, whilst the heart is there, the art can often be lost in an earnest desire to make ‘meaning’.

There’s no messagey preaching in Planet B, though. In fact, eco issues provide the backdrop, but hardly the heart, of this play. Slowly, though, through careful interactions and cunning narrative, we see how human selfishness begets more suffering. How living eco-consciously can be done on the tightest means. How generosity of spirit can impact a world greater than just one’s own.

Now that’s clever consciousness.

Planet B provides carefully crafted theatre with some beautiful visual elements. The set, for instance, is a magical assemblage of salvaged canvas structures and spare parts. It somehow manages to be both crazy futuristic contraption and cosy homestead, with inventive ‘green’ solutions to all life’s necessities (not sparing the proverbial kitchen sink). Infinitely adaptable, it becomes by turn a life pod, a cave, a makeshift stage and a sailboat, proving that the extraordinary always lies behind the everyday, if we only have the creativity to unlock it.

This Well Worn Theatre production is well worth a look, whether you’re a greenie theatre buff or a regular Joe(anne).

Sirkelpad follows the tale of two children who are struggling with the concept of death, something that has touched their lives at a very young age. Through dream, memory, imagination and spirit guidance, both come to discover a knowledge and understanding of the world that can heal their lives.

The children loved it. Despite the tale being poetic and possibly slightly complex for a very young audience, it was rewarding to relive the magic of puppet animation by hearing collective gasps when wooden puppets came to life, delighted squeals when they moved mischievously about the stage, even a few sniffles as they were hurt or distressed.

My Afrikaans proficiency is something of a joke amongst friends, but I was perfectly comfortable with this simple yet moving tale. I am, in fact, so glad that Out the Boxfest-ers have the opportunity of seeing a play that is not only in Afrikaans but is also performed with touches of isiXhosa – there are too few productions that allow these languages their stage-space and keeping them in the public performance space allows the possibilities they afford to be reimagined, re-experienced in ways that everyday dialogue cannot hold.

With a beautiful set by Ilka Louw and an interesting text by Amy Jeptha, we’re invited into a world of children’s fears, of absence and dreamscape, of loss and lack of understanding. While not everything about the text worked for me (and I’m very aware this could well be a language barrier issue), the children were captivated by the puppet world and intrigued by the tale that was so proficiently told, particularly by Cindy Mkaza and Sharon Martin.

Take a trip down this path, then. It’s a pretty interesting journey.

Johann Vermaak and Brendan Murray are particularly delightful as head butler Henry and the Russian chef Vlad, respectively.  Vermaak is fabulously austere with just a hint of hysteria and Murray’s superb comic timing and accent work make him a chef not to be messed with.

Belknap has really gone to town to present a visual extravaganza in this piece and the care and attention to detail really pay off. Shadow puppetry, animation, inventive prop manipulation, and the small matter of your title character lying in two pieces in a trunk…this piece presents many challenges for the creative cast to face. They’re up to the challenge and give spirited performaces in a work that is a glorious celebration of every gleeful horror spoof you can imagine.

This one’s a dead cert for a great night out. Just make sure the Madame lets you leave in one piece.

Berlin-based Uta Gerbert is a one-woman manipulation machine. I could hardly believe my eyes as she floated, almost imperceptible in a black outfit, behind one of the most visually arresting, evocative and complex puppets I’ve seen. I simply couldn’t believe that one person was able to expressively operate a puppet’s head (with moveable jaw constructed from jackal skull), two arm rods and cloak (that, at times, detatched from the puppet and needed animating of its own accord), and do so with a nuance and delicacy unsurpassed in anything I have previously seen at the festival.

And that’s just the technical side of things.

Anubis’ thematic content proved just as rewarding as its visual pull. A reflection on mortality through the movements of a skeletal figure of Anubis, an Egyptian god and judge of the dead, the piece works at you slowly, pulling threads and themes with care until a final, exquisite moment of self-revelation and realisation between the manipulator and puppet brings us full circle between life and death, knowledge and naivety, being and been.

Anubis was astounding. I feel privileged to have experienced it.