Review of ‘The King of Broken Things’: “Theory comes after practice”

The Riverside Studios host the London premiere of Michael Taylor-Broderic’s inward-looking piece, delivering a message of tenderness and positivity through the comments of young autistic boy. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show, to let us know if this potentially thoughtful theatrical experience ends up feeling like child’s play.

Imagination is reality stripped of all its wrongs. We all dream of a better life – whether that’s for others or just for us. Not always can we make it happen, but as long as we carry hope to move us along, the ugliness of the outside world can never truly get into ourselves. No matter how hurt we are or how torn we feel, there’s always a chance to rebuild everything from scratch. And from the shattered pieces of the past, we can indeed make an imperishable future.

The Christmas season seems to have landed with a stronger taste of resilience on the London scene – at least, when it comes to the Riverside Studios. Following its international tour, The King Broken Things has now raised its settlement on the Hammersmith stage – bringing us a tale of fantasy and inspiration, which presents us with the struggles of our everyday through the innocent yet sharp eyes of an autistic boy.

Written and directed by Michael Taylor-Broderic, the play parts from an extremely compelling premise – exuding poignancy and philosophical value on an equal level. However, its development feels flawed as for the way it connects with the viewer. Despite the script being able to project some wit and insightfulness through the purity of the character’s observations, there’s an absence of uniqueness and pathos that prevents the journey from looking genuine; and subsequently, speaking to the audience.

We can easily be taken by the idea of observing our surroundings through the comments of young bullied child – chances are that, at some point in our paths, we were that kid too. But the text only provides us with the external layer – striving to get any deeper than what, on the whole, appears to be closer to a series of rough ideas than a proper introspection stemming from personal truth.

As a result, the show never manages to raise enough interest. We might be entertained at some moments, but there’s a latent sensation of missed opportunities that keeps pulsating, to a growing cadence, all the way through. We are given the archetypes, but we want the individuals. Yet those are rather unlikely to make any significant appearance – in what, in the end, feels like a well-intended but eventually truncated effort.

Structured as a one-hander starring Cara Roberts, her performance is, without any doubt, the production’s most robust, enjoyable element – apart from its beautiful, imaginative set design, enhancing the narrative’s themes through a dynamic approach that furthers its theatricality. As for Roberts’s rendition, her portrayal is as likable as it’s moving – carried out with passion, presence, and an impressive degree of verity; giving us a sense of ease and intimacy that, in spite of the staleness of the script, is still capable of building a bridge with its watchers through the poignancy and, all in all, emotional force of her act.

Forming an inviting and promising concept, with the potential for an exceptionally touching, transformative experience, The King of Broken Things leaves a permanent imprint on its audience thanks to the solidity of its topics. Nonetheless, its memory stays blurred due to an absence of elaborateness that compromises the overall robustness and effectiveness of the piece. Thought-provoking in content, but not sufficiently enduring as for its delivery, the montage triggers a much welcome intellectual appetite, but sadly leaves you with a bigger feel of frustration when the void it creates by itself is only half fulfilled. It’s a charming effort that, to some extent, can get to your heart, – but it’s quite improbable it will ever get to melt it.

All pictures credit to Suzy Bernstein.

The King of Broken Things plays at London’s Riverside Studios until 5 January. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara