Thricely? Precisely. A Pocket Full of Pips

A rare Odyssey with the incandescent* Pippa to Thricely? Precisely. A Pocket Full of Pips, a Fringe dance about OCD. The fifty minutes flew by, even though I was sitting on the floor at the front of the stage and was eyeballed several times by the pretty, athletic dancers. Enough to make anyone nervous. Dancers are scary close up, they hum with energy during performance. They danced like fluid insects to the original soundscape, utilizing mattresses, jars and foam-rubber peas. Afterwards I talked to the doll-like director, who hadn’t seen last week’s Jitterati where I quoted the name of the show, so no boasting points there.

* i.e. she has a platinum filament and glows if you put 240 volts through her.

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