The Arms. Lion and Unicorn Theatre.

Korean surrealist theatre-maker Moon Kim’s modern Gothic horror fairy tale, The Arms, impresses with its visual panache and sophisticated physical theatre. Beyond a nod to the climate crisis, you may struggle to figure out quite what is going on.

Domi (Rosalind Jackson Roe, with an intense, brooding perma-smile) has lived for 25 years with only two arms. Now, everything around her is dying. Not just “the angry, the poor, and the sad”, but “the trees, the whales, and the pigs”, too. So, she decides to use her mother’s inheritance to create six more arms (we get the recipe in case you want to do the same) with which to “free the living, warm the cold, and hug the kids”.  One supposes there are hints towards Buddhist iconography here: powerful deities with multiple arms often embody protective compassion.

Next-door neighbour Sora (Carolina Emidio’s face has the swirling, shape-shifting aura of a storm crossing water) is having none of it. “You might save a polar bear, but no one will want to hang out with you”, she hisses at her erstwhile buddy. Sora, who is grieving the loss of her husband, sees Domi’s point about change but thinks her neighbour is going too far, too fast. Besides, eight smelly armpits are “scary for many people … and yucky to look at”.

The set-up hints at an allegorical comment on political polarisation in the context of the climate crisis—inclusive eco-activism on one side versus, on the other, a preoccupation with maintaining the rights and privileges of the status quo. Initially, indeed, that is where we head. Decidedly unneighbourly self-righteous anger spirals into mutual incomprehension in a kind of dramatised Fox News debate.

Kim then shifts tone abruptly from light allegory to highly surreal, dream-like, and frequently impenetrable Gothic horror. Domi falsely tells anyone who will listen that Sora murdered her husband. Sora spreads rumours, denouncing Domi to the police as an arms thief (“if my arms are stolen then your dick is stolen, too”, she yells at a cop in a rather alarming non sequitur).  Subsequent events feature, variously, severed limbs, clandestine surveillance through holes poked in walls, lizards in fishing nets, allegations of cannibalism, and more. Vengeance rarely gets as unfettered as this.

Kim’s combination of highly stylised movement, dance and physical theatre, music (tremendous work by composer Ábel MGE), and metaphor-laden visual design in The Arms hints at traditional Korean dramatic aesthetics. It may equally be this theatre-maker’s unique approach. Stylish and visually dazzling as it is, one cannot help feeling that the message, if there is one, gets lost.

Writer and Director:  Moon Kim