Wristband upon arrival. Silver glitter painted on your face. A DJ desk set against a wall of foil tinsel. House of Life transforms Soho Theatre into a disco drag karaoke club.
Created by “The RaveRend” (Ben Welch), the main host/singer, and “Trev” (Lawrence Cole), the sound engineer and keyboardist (kind of), House of Life declares itself not a destination, but a journey. With glitter-painted beard and flamboyant cassock, Welch moves through the entire auditorium, orders us to do calls-and-responses, and asks a set of questions to random audience members.
In a way, it reminds me of Julia Masli’s ha ha ha ha ha ha ha, also performed last year’s at Soho Theatre. With their main performers shuttling between seats and rows, both shows try to turn a theatrical event into a once-in-a-lifetime encounter by using audience interaction as the main approach to articulate their “narrative”, with the aid of tech such as live audio sampling.
Though some audience members may give extremely identical answers (an expletive-laden political comment, for instance), the rooted perspectives are radically divergent. Masli is more like a craftswoman, a carpenter perhaps, who slowly and awkwardly mends a shattered wooden chair together with her audience bit by bit. Welch, on the contrary, is this glorious, radiant priest who leads his flock for therapeutic, even hysteric, responsive prayers. Masli asks you “What is your problem” softly with hesitation; Welch tells you “I am strong” in a hyper-energetic manner.
In fact, the entire show feels a bit overtly charged without any “breath”. Everything is too exuberant and full – the campy costumes, the tacky lights, the loud music and sound, and the half-hearted audience interaction. You may feel that manic, even intense energy, almost like a high-pressure sales event. To some extent, such hyper-energy flattens and simplifies the rich thematic potential the show intends to present. These calls-and-responses are loud but shallow, merely a kind of forced positivity masqueraded as empowerment.
Only in the final ten minutes does the show take a breath, when Welch starts to talk about dad and granddaughter, and Trev gives his monologue accompanied by long silence. Trev’s awkward, deadpan vibe (like The IT Crowd’s Moss) may seem out of place amid the show’s flamboyance, but it provides a much-needed counterbalance. His monologue might be the sincerest moment throughout the night. However, Trev’s manoeuvre, although better than nothing, feels more like a food coma after a lavish banquet—far too late to redeem the night.
House of Life is therapeutic, if you think you need to be fixed. It’s still better than a therapist’s office, right?
Listings and ticket information can be found here
