“Rob Van Vuuren brings his superb comedic style to a monumental tale… a fabulous story”
Cue Review July 2006

Electric Juju. Directed by Helen Iskander and James Cunningham. Conceived and performed by Rob van Vuuren. At Kalk Bay Theatre until September 2.

This lurid fantasy that is currently playing out on the Kalk Bay Theatre's intimate stage is an epic extravaganza of the most plausible kind.

If what I just said sounds like a whole barrage of oxymorons strewn recklessly together, I challenge you, dear reader, to come up with something better after seeing Rob van Vuuren's confounding but deeply affecting and emotive play.

Even though it takes place in a robust and unforgiving magical wasteland, that world comes to life fully realised.

And it is rendered with such sensitivity - through the simplest gestures or facial expressions of the actor - that one's heart positively soars.

I am loath to recap too much of the story.

This is honestly one of those adventures where all you need is a ready bravado to descend down the rabbit hole with Van Vuuren, your happy master of ceremonies.

What I can say is that it features a mystical old man who trudges around with the heart of a giant on his back, a little girl whose imaginary friend might just be the most real thing in her life, two henchmen in the most classically malevolent mould and a truly terrifying villain, the Juju of the title.

Through it all, Van Vuuren keeps it together through all manner of physical and aural transformations.

The result is that he works a mojo that penetrates one's mind deeply.

The texture of the world that the actor translates through his vast reservoir of stop-start mannerisms makes it feel much more lived-in than fanciful.

The giant prop that Van Vuuren employs, the heart of the giant, is one of the most mystical and affecting inanimate things I have ever seen on stage.

Seeing him manipulate it every which way, and also the way he manages to squeeze every last drop of storytelling juice from it, is a breathtaking experience.

The consummate aplomb with which he manipulates one's faculties (in his presence, one's senses aren't quite one's own anymore) is hypnotic and mystifying.

The play is a trippy experience alright, but the actor's honest conviction always keeps the enterprise squarely within the bounds of the emotional.

This isn't just the ruminations of a mad genius - or someone who might have had too much of whatever substance beautiful ideas often originate from.

In other words, you can't stand outside of this world and make judgments, nor can you indiscriminately trip to your heart's content.

Electric Juju is far too big and poetic and connected to things in real life to be pigeonholed or placed in any readymade little compartment.

Go and surrender yourself. You'll come out a richer person.

And whatever burden it is that is keeping you occupied in the real world, it is a liberating experiencing to see that, on any day, it would pale in comparison to that massive giant's heart on the back of that hunched old man.

Electric Juju, an enchanting one-man show written and performed by Rob Van Vuuren, is a magical journey catapulting its audiences into a milieu of giants, heroes, monsters and mysterious happenings. It’s a bit like scuttling through the pages of a bedtime story for adults. This visually exquisite piece is rooted in the fantastical realm.

It’s a fresh experience because the fantasy genre in theatre is not explored much. Fantastic worlds, an entire landscape, is conveyed on stage through minor detail and gestures; and then the audience engages with it and become involved in the process.

“For me the point of theatre is not to make it as real as possible – it’s about the willing suspension of disbelief. If you’re just sitting there comfortably behind the fourth wall, you’re separated from the story,” Van Vuuren says.

Played with dexterous aptitude, Van Vuuren’s multiple characters are influenced by those in works of the ineffable Terry Pratchett, as well as the bizarre Neverwhere and Abarat by Neil Gaiman and Clive Barker respectively. Each has their own quirks and the performance is absurdly funny.

The “juju” of the title literally means an object that possesses magical powers; it also refers to the nebulous and sinister force that lurks in the play’s surreal parallel world. No villain is complete without evil henchmen and the gnarled hired assassins Fenk and Grope, oozing foul roguishness, fit the part.

Like Pratchett’s assassins Mr Tulip and Mr Pin, Fenk and Grope have this sort of top-hat-and-tails Edwardian or Victorian elegance about them – but they’re bad.

To counter them, the protagonists include a wiry old man, the spirit of his warrior son, and a headless medium, Here Van Vuuren displays deft physicality and talent for accents, ranging from Australian to Eastern European.

A classroom of obnoxious children contributes a hint of normality, while the lone female amid the masculine bravado is Susan, a lonely little girl-turned-heroine.

Throughout the performance Van Vuuren engages with as giant multi-dimensional, multi-purpose prop, which takes on a life of its own. To reveal its various uses would ruin the surprise. “For me it’s the central character; the thing that drives everything and then other characters are drawn into the narrative, much like the ring in Lord Of The Rings,” says Van Vuuren.

The visual feast is complemented by an evocative soundscape of electric storms and squawking crows the lend Electric Juju its subtly ominous atmosphere. Melancholy music, mostly sampled from the Icelandic band Sigur Ros, evokes an added bleak emotional quality.

Although Electric Juju succeeds in mesmerizing its audience, it certainly is nothing less than weird.

“Some people aren’t gong to get it; they aren’t going to accept these conventions… I want audience members to say to themselves ‘what’s going on?’ and then there are moments when the penny drops and they figure it out,” Van Vuuren says.

If you don’t tap into the genre or grasp its meaning, at least you can appreciate his performance. Directed by Fresco Theatre’s Helen Iskander and James Cuningham, best known for their internationally acclaimed Baobabs Don’t Grow Here, Van Vuuren’s performance is captivating.