Omnibus Theatre
Playing until 5th April 2025
Photo credit: Kenny Kung
{AD-Gifted tickets}
How far would you go to find answers in a storm of relentless chaos? That’s what Chris Fung explores in his dark, twisted one-man play The Society for New Cuisine.
Our unnamed protagonist has been pushed to his limits after experiencing the tragic death of his wife Beth, getting fired from his high intensity law job, and growing distant from his overbearing mother as his father battles with cancer. After seeing an advert for the mysterious Society for New Cuisine (SFNC for short, an acronym that follows him for a while before he even realises it) offering £1000 in exchange for a blood donation, he’s quickly hooked into their terrifying cycle of pain and reward.
As a solo performer, Fung has a sharp charisma that helps him command the traverse stage as he switches between monologue and reenactments of dialogue, which he accomplishes with the use of voice notes or shifting his pitch through a microphone. What’s really impressive is how he operates the tech-laden set, where laptops, lamps, and mic stands are scattered around the space for him to move and travel with in between scenes and vignettes. Director Rupert Hands has clearly spent a lot of time thinking about how these different pieces of equipment should be placed and moved so they make not just logistical sense but thematic sense, and it results in a visibly impressive feat, although the lights shining out directly into the audience occasionally could become uncomfortably distracting.
What I sadly wasn’t so impressed by was the story and pacing. The Society for New Cuisine follows a non-linear narrative, which in many ways reflects the character’s fragmented and frantic mindset, but its structure is just too disjointed for it to always make sense. We bounce around timelines, from the protagonist’s first meeting with Beth to his relationship with SFNC member Sylvie, at an unbelievably rapid pace, making it hard for the audience to really understand what is going through the character’s head at any one time.
The plot is also broken up with short scenes featuring extended metaphors about animals such as caterpillars, which only serve to confuse and drag out the narrative further without giving the character extra emotional depth.
While the presence of the Society for New Cuisine is teased at points earlier in the play through the acronym’s seemingly innocuous appearance in places like corporate galas or fashion stores, we actually don’t meet the group until near the end of the piece, at which point things escalate at lightning speed. From here, the performance becomes very shouty and quite repetitive, leaving me feeling unmoved by its ultimate emotional climax.
We also don’t really get to dig into who Sylvie is, or his other Andrew Tate-esque friend, both of whom are revealed to be involved with the SFNC. I found myself unsure of what these side characters were supposed to tell us about the protagonist and his intentions, as we never really see under the surface of who the protagonist is outside of the trauma he’s experienced. I wanted to understand his motivations, personality, and initial love story with Beth on a deeper level so I could have really empathised with his journey, but instead I was left feeling cold.
There are some interesting discussions about men’s mental health within this Buddhist-inspired fable, but they’re unfortunately buried beneath a muddled narrative that distanced me from the character. Fung is a bold, ambitious performer with a lot of great ideas — they just need some refinement so they can pack the emotional punch he’s clearly aspiring to.
Creatives
Written: Chris Fung
Directed: Rupert Hands
Set and Costume designer: Yimei Zhao
Lighting designer: Rajiv Pattani
Sound designer: Jamie Lu
Stage Management: Alexandra Kataigida
Produced by: Fun Guy Productions
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