HE comes. He saws. He conks.
Mitch Jones cannibalises clowning, burlesque and fetishist performance art in AutoCannibal.
An hour of horror spiked with black humour, AutoCannibal confronts with the conclusion of the human race’s rampant and out of control consumerism. In this dystopian world, the race has been run and humans look finished.
Searing, soaring temperatures have evaporated water and made most life forms extinct. What’s a man to do to sustain himself.
This is nail biting stuff. Followed by nail swallowing. Dandruff tea replaces dandelion tea. Would you care for a saliva smoothie or a mucus shake? Fancy a bit of foot in mouth? Gives new meaning to filet of sole. Pumice stone your heel and the shavings look and smell like grated cheese.
Talk about living off the sweat of your brow. In a dystopian dehydrated world, you need to tears to fill your kettle, or any other bodily fluids you can extract. Talk about taking the piss.
A fly flies in and is undone.
Hunger somewhat sated, man’s other appetite arises and he screws a garbage bag, safe sex of course, using a plastic bag to collect his semen, release and replenishment all in one, recyclable recreational sex, climaxing in consuming his own sperm from the makeshift condom.
A hard axe to follow, the performance starts with a saw, and the spectre of hovering and descending saws, blades, and boning knives.
Mime and mimicry, acrobats and dance, obscure allusion and silly slapstick are all on the menu in Jones’ morsels of the macabre.
Looking at a future where the reality is Master Chef will be how to cook yourself, AutoCannibal will be tasteless to some, satisfying to those with an appetite for the absurd.
Worth a butcher’s? Two thumbs off.
AutoCannibal plays CarriageWorks, Redfern as part of the Sydney Festival
Fri 15 Jan at 8.30pm
Sat 16 Jan at 8.30pm
Sun 17 Jan at 7.30pm