By Diana Miranda

As the glorified theatre addict that I am, I’ve caught Akimbo Theatre’s NO ONE multiple times. First, at Brighton Fringe 2022, with a clean slate and wide eyes. Later that year I aimed to relive the experience at Edinburgh Fringe, which I did/n’t. Tweaks had been made. It was like re-reading a book you anticipate enjoying, but finding new chapters that you didn’t expect. This is not surprising since it’s a new piece by a physical theatre company, but it took a tiny while for my stubborn mind to re-adjust. This was a reminder of an obvious yet overlooked truth: theatre is a dynamic and ever-evolving art form that transcends the boundaries of a single performance.

In January 2023, Akimbo staged NO ONE at London’s Omnibus Theatre. As an embedded critic, I watched a couple of rehearsals ahead of their opening night. It was the first time that I embedded in the rehearsal of a show I’d previously watched, which added an interesting layer to it. I engaged with it differently, eager to watch the inner workings of a performance I knew and, later on, my reflections bounced from recollections of previous runs to anticipation of the upcoming one. I shared my experience on my instagram, tracing my thoughts in a way that seemed rawer and more honest. Instead of writing the result of an analysis a posteriori, my ideas were unfolding one by one. First after rehearsals, then after the run at Omnibus Theatre, my third date with NO ONE.

This text is a magnified mashup of those write-ups, which I revisit now to add yet another layer to that time-defying experience that bounced between memories and mindfulness. I’ve followed the show’s evolution as much as I could (minus their performances in Oslo). Back in January, after visiting the rehearsals and re-watching the show, I reflected on/obsessed over the malleable nature of theatre, particularly shows on the fringe.

“Had I really, truly watched NO ONE?”, I asked myself. After the changes the show underwent between Brighton and Edinburgh, it seemed stubborn mistake expect a carbon copy. I’ve watched Brighton’s NO ONE, Edinburgh’s NO ONE, and I was about to watch London’s NO ONE. Was it possible to watch the show with a clean slate, like a do-over? “Probably not”, I told myself. But I figured that if I don’t get do-overs, I could at least exchange my slate for a new, clean one. What I loved about that idea is that it shows how theatre is alive, malleable and not bound to one-night reviews. It’s like meeting an old friend, but friends change. And you change.

Award-winning Akimbo Theatre is Lexie Baker, Jonathan Ben-Shaul, Pierre Moullier, Flo Wiedenbach, Rosanna Malinson, Halvor Schultz, and Owen Bleach. It wasn’t my intention to become such a stalker, but Akimbo Theatre knows how to tour, and fringe addicts are bound to bump into each other. Then there’s the thing where you’re drawn to the energy of a company. NO ONE tells the story of a lonely, literally invisible man, and Akimbo’s portrayal of it is magnetic. It has so many aaaahh moments that are cool to relive even when you know what’s going down. I’ve been razzle-dazzled by all their mime-trained flair, sly stage transitions and slick choreographies.

While the show’s foundation is consistent, each run had been distinct: choreography removed here, script addition there. As an embedded critic, rehearsals showed me how acutely they adapt to each venue, taking as long as needed to adapt movement sections in a way that’s both safe for performers and engaging for audiences. It also gave me a glimpse of how close they are to a devising ethos: a knack for improvisation, a playful approach and openness to (re)insert new or old ideas. “Next time”, I heard them say more than once.

The rehearsal period for their Omnibus run was short – barely one week. But the show is ripe, and the rehearsals mirrored that. The ensemble knows what they have on their hands; they trust the work and one another. They all contribute, vote on decisions, and modify scenes with no designated leader who polices the changes. They occasionally get feedback from Malinson however, who’s not performing this time around. She assumes a strong, guiding role during rehearsal, yet non-hierarchic. They don’t get in each other’s way but interact with spontaneity and precision. There is a divide-and-conquer vibe.

After catching the show at Omnibus Theatre, it merges with the déjà vu of flashbacks from Brighton and Edinburgh, but stands on its own. This is not only because of the cast itself but because of the characteristics of each stage. A bare stage has quite a lot of creative input. That time at Omnibus, I absorbed a chunkier NO ONE that balanced movement sections with script development. As an average audience member with a theatre addiction, I felt like I got the best of two worlds.

So, no, I had no clean slate when it came to NO ONE (and what’s a clean slate anyway? Some would argue that a show’s blurb or any promo material stains the experience). But at this point, I realised I didn’t care about that. Something much more interesting than watching a show for the absolute first time is following the show’s evolution. Fringe theatre can gift you that.

NO ONE has a one-off performance at Soho Theatre’s London Clown Festival. New venue, new stage, fresh creative wit. Again: a stage has its saying in a show, particularly in a physical theatre piece with stage combat and aerial flips in the mix. And who knows what else. Or perhaps this time around, there will be no changes at all. Whichever the case, it might be my fourth NO ONE and yet another opportunity for an absolute first to plenty more theatregoers.

NO ONE run on 17 June at Soho Theatre.

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