Review: You, Me, Bum Bum Train, LEB Building

Written for Culture Wars

You never forget your first time. Almost two years ago, in the heart of Shoreditch, I stepped through the glitzy curtains of a pop-up karaoke bar to ride the Bum Bum Train with no idea as to what awaited me. Plonked in a rickety wheelchair, I was sped through a maze of interactive social situations – from catwalk to bobsleigh run – at breakneck speed. I signed an autograph for a sick child as Daniel Craig. I threw a punch. I passed off ungo-bungo noises as Swahili. The whole effect was a dizzying tailspin, (re)acting solely on impulse. I remember it taking half an hour to reacclimatize to the steady pace of normality. I stand by everything I wrote at the time.

It won’t surprise you that I had braced myself somewhat second time around, primed and ready for anything. That in itself is problematic: You Me Bum Bum Train relies on the disorientation of trying to identify a situation even as you respond to it. As with Punchdrunk’s work, once you know how the game works there’s a danger of breaking it. If anything that’s more acute in this case, given that YMBBT’s form is so dominant over its content.

That’s not to dismiss this year’s chosen scenarios – though, of course, to reveal anything would be unfair. Morgan Lloyd and Kate Bond have cherry-picked some corkers: so full of invention that anticipation would be impossible even if you dreamt up a wish-list beforehand. I chuckled my way through a great deal of the forty minute experience; half disbelieving their ballsiness, half-delighted by their wit.

Sadly, however, that’s just not enough for me. That’s a brilliant fairground ride, not brilliant interactive theatre. If I’m honest, I really missed the bite. YMBBT is best when we’re not acting, but reacting. In this version too many scenarios indulge us, pandering to our egos by casting us in leading roles without having to cope with the stresses of an audience. If we're acting, whatever the role, whether cop or robber, the challenge is the same: you (as person) have to improv through that situation (as character). It becomes about quick-thinking, perhaps rewarding the sort of egotistical gag-based improv that can be so damaging in a genuine process. Ultimately what you say in response doesn't really matter unless it comes from you. I responded to one question with what must have seemed a surreal list of the Beatles simply because they sprung to mind. These scenarios, however, can demand a real response that requires subsequent reflection. They needn't all do so - there remains room for play - but something needs to scar.

Much of this is due to growth, in length as well as size, which lessens the impact of the overall, even though it allows fleshier individual scenes. The slower pace, with more time in transition and longer immersions, allows you to settle and catch your breath. And it can’t afford to. The moment we engage our brains, we start to play along. YMBBT needs to charge at us and leave us breathless in order to draw the unexpected out of us. Here, I felt more driver than startled rabbit.

Perhaps all this neglects the sheer head-rush of YMBBT; the fact that your heart beats double-speed and your adrenaline glands work like never before. Or maybe I’ve distilled a previous experience into a distorted memory that can’t be matched. Perhaps I was simply over-prepared.

Regardess, it’s still the most fun you can have in London theatre. I just wish it put up more of a fight.