I remember as a small boy having a strange dream about growing a very long and impressive moustache. I can’t say it’s become an adult priority, but if I had a lip-wig like David Bramwell’s I would be a happy, hairy-faced man. Not only was its previous owner Ambrose Oddfellow, 19th century legendary freak show host, but it allows him to weave magical stories about drug-addled eccentrics, amnesiacs like Drako Oho Zarhazar, supernatural occurrences and the quest to find the eternal meaning behind his fabled whiskers.
The Haunted Moustache is quite excellent. A monologue that keeps you fascinated until the very end; here is a piece with simple presentation, but inordinate style. Bramwell’s search for the story behind his artefact takes the audience on a colourful tour around Britain that is never patronising or guilty giving too much away. Living in Brighton, I was pleased to see his stories on familiar oddities weren’t merely awestruck anecdotes, but indeed showed sympathy for the people they caricatured. Sometimes Bramwell is a tad over-indulgent with his subject matter, but when narrating his wild experiences he has the control of a competent ringmaster. Go and see the Haunted Moustache without further ado.
[Ashby Lennard]
Printer Friendly
