“Showmanism” at Hampstead Theatre
Tom Bolton in North London
26 June 2025
Dickie Beau, wearing a white jumpsuit, stands on the edge of the stage and speaks the first line of Hamlet: “Who’s there?” By the end of his 90-minute one-man show he has returned to the same downstage spot, but now he has cast aside physical presence and embraced pure being. In between lies a rigorous, personal, and brilliant exploration of theatrical history and the meaning of performance: to seek an audience, to speak so they can hear, to perform. Remarkably, this is achieved using other people’s voices. Beau is a lip-syncer and, unless you have caught previous shows by him, such as Re-Member Me at Hampstead Theatre, or Showmanism itself on its first outing in Bath, you will not have seen anything like this.
Photo credit: Amanda Searle.
Lip-syncing could seem gimmicky or superficial, but in Beau’s hands it is a tool that cuts right to the heart of being. An interviewee describes the invention of sound recording as a breakthrough for puppetry, as it allowed the performers to concentrate on the spectacle. Beau channels the physicality of the people he impersonates, so the audience recognizes distinct individuals, even without hearing their voices.
He performs to interviews he has recorded with a fascinating range of actors, trainers, and thinkers. At the starry end of the spectrum, his discussions with Ian McKellen are very funny, including an account of Sir Ian’s worst night on stage, and various asides to noisy builders interrupting the recording. But generally Beau chooses to channel the words of people who are less famous but have remarkable insight to offer, including Greek actress Mimi Denissi, impressionist Steve Nallon, critic Rupert Christiansen, voice coach Patsy Rodenburg, and psychedelic teacher Ram Dass.
Beau performs on a set by Justin Nardella which consists of a white platform and a backdrop of hanging objects, from televisions to an astronaut’s helmet. Marty Langthorne’s lighting is instrumental in conjuring a range of spaces, including a box of light in which Beau becomes trapped, mime-style, by invisible walls. With minimal but carefully chosen props, including a Yorick skull, a ladder, a bath, and a beautiful pop-up album filled with masks and auditoriums, he switches from person to person and idea to idea, weaving a thesis on theatre. It is completely riveting, even as interviewees delve deep into abstract concepts.
Showmanism, with a nod in its title to the idea of actors as priests conducting the audience in a ritual, offers a succession of thought-provoking insights. The advent of speech, a mere 35,000 years ago, is discussed as humanity’s most successful technological innovation. Greek theatres are “stone ears”, calibrated so the audience can hear every word. An actor addressing a skull is the single image that represents theatre. People inhabit their bodies like space suits, hidden inside. But there is emotional connection too. Stripped to his underpants (admired by McKellen), Beau is asked why he performs, and whether it is to escape. “What is the point?” he asks, lip syncing to a recording of his own voice. Fiona Shaw helps to answer, with her heart-stopping account of performing at Epidavros, feeling in the utter silence that she could be back in 400 bce. Theatre can transport performers and audience, and transform them too.
The show is directed by Jan-Willem van den Bosch, who should take a great deal of credit for his partnership with Beau. Together they make Showmanism both intellectually ambitious and a theatrical delight. Material that looks dry on paper is brought vividly to life, the audience plunged into the heart of arguments that seem to cut to the heart of our reasons for being.
Beau is gently funny too, including a recurring gag about Edmund Kean’s fabled sword, which he eventually uses to butter some toast. And he is physical, creating a performance style that reinvents mime as something new and significant. He seems to channel voices in a way which, as an interviewee suggests, would have once had him burned as a witch. It is a rich and satisfying evening from a performer who does not fit the accepted categories, and is all the better for it.
