‘Loss is the only truly universal experience’ says Funeral Teeth’s publicity. My heart sank as I read that statement and instantly disagreed with it. I faced the prospect of an evening taking in the kind of theatre that makes profound sounding but obviously false claims and then tries to lend them gravitas with adverbs like ‘truly’. Basically, I thought it was going to be artificial and pretentious. But that fear was not realised. The piece proves all too authentic.
Funeral Teeth is a series of vignettes about loss in the broadest sense, from getting lost, to losing teeth, to death, abortion and rape. It provides a content warning and resources for those affected by the show’s more serious topics, an act which felt, and I say this as a compliment, one or two years out-of-date – a rejection of the shift to the right that our culture saw in 2024.
The show features three queer women, semi-nude, embracing their sexuality and unapologetically taking up space. It is interspersed with bursts of energetic dance which tend to last a beat too long.
The cast are able to switch effortlessly and convincingly between inhabiting characters of different ages, genders and demeanours. At times I feel as if I am watching a drama school showcase designed to show off their commendable virtuosity. Fundamentally, Rio Montana Topley feels innocent, Katja de la Fuente sensual, and Amy Stephenson-Yankuba – perhaps the lead actress – a little hardened by bitter experience.
The truth of the work by Succulent Theatre is its greatest quality. It is easy to believe that each vignette is based on a real event in a member of the cast’s life, and that makes the audience invest in the show and connect with the actors. One scene, about a car journey with the grandparents, stands out. If you have elderly relatives, you have been in that car.
But it’s possible for a piece to ring true to a fault and that, ultimately, is the problem here. The piece has ‘real life’s’ formlessness and lack of artistic meaning. There’s insufficient piquancy to many of the scenes and no overriding narrative. Ultimately, the scenes are linked by little more than the loose word ‘loss’. Many prompt the response – yes, that could happen, but so what? I don’t mean that they feature trivial issues – many do not – but that the stories told are insufficiently shaped into art.
Funeral Teeth’s roots in real life experience makes it highly relatable and means it never truly loses its audience. But it never truly moves them, either. The moment it comes closest is in appealing to them to remember those they have lost – cutting out the middleman and speaking directly to personal experience. Valuable, perhaps, but more therapy than theatre here. Notwithstanding theatre can be therapeutic.
I leave feeling that, if this is, as it promises to be, ‘the most transformative piece of theatre that you’ll see this year’, then you need to see more and better theatre. But, on reflection, I partly revised my opinion. The chemistry between these powerful women is clear and their closely observed depiction of life as they know it will nourish women who experience life in the same way and have never seen themselves so closely reflected on the stage. It’s not transformative for everyone, but it may be transformative for some people. Its very lack of craft will help it to tell some people’s truth.
