STOMP

The British theatrical sensation STOMP returns to New Zealand in April with their revamped show – fresher, faster and funnier than ever before!

From a single drum, hanging around Luke Cresswell’s neck back in 1991, STOMP has taken on a life of its own. Since those early days, creators and co-directors Cresswell and Steve McNicholas have developed a unique, universal language of rhythm, theatre, comedy and dance.

With unstoppable energy and toe-tapping exuberance, STOMP takes the clutter and junk of everyday life – everything including the kitchen sink – and transforms it into a pulsating, witty, utterly irresistible theatrical event. To date STOMP has set feet stamping, fingers drumming, adrenalin rushing and feel-good flooding through audiences totalling 14 million across 43 countries.

Now, after an astonishing six years in the West End, STOMP unveils ‘STOMP ’09 – Fresher, Faster, Funnier’, inspired by their large-scale Las Vegas version, STOMP Out Loud. New music and choreography join a fresh array of ordinarily mundane objects, onto which the cast work their musical magic. Huge ribbed tubes, previously used for recycling fluorescent lights, are themselves recycled into outsized Guiros, a Latin American percussion instrument, played by scraping the ridged sides with a stick.

In one of two spectacular new routines, paint cans are tossed between the performers, as they simultaneously build an astonishingly complex rhythm over every surface of the airborne cans. With the emphasis very much on ‘spectacular’, the Stompers are also joined by inflated monster truck inner tubes, here strapped around their waists to create both a dance of bobbing, whirling rubber skirts and pounding, portable drum kits: the ultimate redefinition of ‘surround sound’.

Still remaining is STOMP’s signature high-octane meeting of slick choreography, tight ensemble work, industrial percussion and a narrative of anarchic clowning; as the irrepressible troupe of eight performers turn brooms into soft shoe partners, clapping into intricate conversations and water cooler bottles into sophisticated instruments. A row of folding chairs are straddled, slid, slammed and slapped into rhythmic submission. It is at once primal and urbane, leaving no percussive potential – of object, body or action – unexploited. And all underpinned by a childish delight in making serious noise.

The whole hurtles towards a brilliantly reworked climax – a showstopper in every sense – as a crackling carnival of leaping, spinning, skidding and pounding performers vent their inexhaustible energies on an unsuspecting orchestra of metal dustbins, bin lids, tubs and water butts. Joyous, thumping, exhilarating bliss for all involved . . . except the bins!