Rarely has the treadmill of everyday life been jammed so forcibly and with such genuine emotion.
A jogger is running. Fast. It is important to stay fit. A girl lies unconscious on a beach. He speaks of how he stops when he sees this girl – the Drowner – calls an ambulance and of how – when it doesn't come – he takes the girl home and puts her in the bath. She says she will stay until her dress is dry. He pours cups of water over it.
Fastening both the audience and the girl to the bathroom, the drying dress intensifies the scope of action. All he wants is to spend time with her, watch television with her, kiss her, tend to her, take her in his arms. But he has already run past her. The Drowner is a sharp dive into what could have been; might have been; should have been. One sequence out of a million is chosen and animated.
As the two characters, performed by Ben Duke and Raquel Mesequer with total commitment and taut skill, compatibly watch television together – the guitar is halted and waves crash in. The drowner has already drowned and probably died. Invisible facets of reality underscore more solidly surface aspects. Stylistically, it is as much dance as it is theatre – as much theatre as it is dance. Words are used when they are needed and when the body can tell the story more effectively, it does. End of story.
End of story? The man walks everyday, not runs. It is better for his knees.