BRAINS, The Bull
Fringe theatre works best when it understands its limitations and embraces them. With small venues, limited tech, tight rehearsal time and short runs, the most successful shows know not to overreach. Too often, ambitious productions crumble under the weight of ideas too big for a 60-minute slot. BRAINS, written by and starring Andrew Atha, doesn’t fall into that trap. In fact, it’s a textbook example of how to do Fringe theatre well. This is quite literally a show written for the space it’s performed in - the intimate, slightly makeshift pub theatre above The Bull. Rather than fighting the constraints of the venue, it incorporates them: props feel authentic to the space, the pub setting is acknowledged within the story, and even local references (like the kitchen downstairs and ‘Big Tesco’) ground the story in recognisable reality. It's smart, localised, and self-aware, exactly what fringe theatre should be.
The premise is: a zombie apocalypse has swept through the world, and Keira (played by Lauren Michell), a weary but resourceful survivor, has taken refuge in the now-abandoned pub where she once worked. She’s joined unexpectedly by Henry, an idealistic fellow survivor (played by Atha himself), who brings both a sense of optimism and a reminder of the world that once was. The undead may loom outside, but BRAINS isn’t particularly interested in horror. This is more Shaun of the Dead than 28 Days Later. The tone is comedic and warm, with a dash of melancholy just beneath the surface. There are references to other zombie media, but this is all very self-aware. The apocalypse is more of a backdrop than a battleground, at its core this is a human, very grounded piece about loneliness, memory and survival in the mundane.
The pandemic allegory is unavoidable, but it’s handled with a surprisingly light touch. There’s a Joe Wicks reference, yes, but it never feels like the play is exploiting Covid for gravitas. Instead, the parallels are baked into the characters’ behaviours, like the sense of isolation, the aimless hope, the obsessive need to plan for a ‘better’ future. You get the sense that Atha has paid attention not only to global events, but to the granular experience of lockdown life.
Michell is superb as Keira, bringing a compelling mix of sarcasm, stoicism and vulnerability. Her comic timing is sharp, particularly in the opening scene where she dances alone to a radio, only to get increasingly annoyed when she is interrupted by desperate transmissions from fellow survivors. It’s a brilliant piece of physical comedy with that essential undercurrent of darkness.
Atha’s Henry is the perfect counterpart to tough Keira - earnest, annoyingly hopeful and clinging to elements that made up his past self. For instance, he insists on remaining a vegan even though its the apocalypse and food is increasingly scarce. Henry and Keira’s chemistry sells the emotional arc of the play. Henry slowly brings Keira out of her shell, while she keeps his idealism tethered to reality. Their conversations touch on grief, resilience and the strange nostalgia for things as mundane as ordering a pint at a crowded pub.
What the play does well is evoke that specific, post-lockdown feeling. That strange mix of hope, loss, and self-evaluation. The audience laughs because they recognise themselves in these characters, their survival tactics and even their offhand reflections on how they’d do things differently when given another chance.
However, for a play so saturated in zombie references, it misses an opportunity to do something thematically bold with them. What do the zombies represent here? There’s plenty of surface-level parody, but there could be a bit more in the way of subtext. Are the Zombies a metaphor for societal numbness? A nod to pandemic-era paranoia? The play gestures toward these ideas but never commits. As a result, it often feels constrained by the boundaries set by earlier, more conceptually daring works. That, however, may be exactly the point. It’s not here to revolutionise the genre - but it’s a damn good night at the theatre. BRAINS is smartly written, tightly directed, and perfectly pitched for its venue. It doesn’t overreach, but it still resonates. It knows the rules of the fringe and it plays them well. If you’re looking for a light-hearted and genuinely funny post-apocalyptic comedy that’s more relatable than it lets on, BRAINS more than delivers.