By Simon Jay 15 August 2025
★★★★★
The expectation of Theodora van der Beek’s show at the outset, is that we’re going to be treated to another clowning character comedy. Luckily, the show’s premise is as deceitful as the eponymous Mr Creep. Emerging from a cardboard box chrysalis, this grotesque ham-obsessed pervert is expertly ‘puppeted’ by Theodora, switching in and out of the character throughout.
Van Der Beek mixes strange lo-res videos with performance art, wrapped up in a doc-style feminist lecture. The disparate elements all come together highlighting the serious nature of how creepy people abuse positions of trust, and manage to assault others in plain sight.
Theodora never feels like she is pushing the gross-out elements for their own sake – each sequence is carefully introduced, explaining the nature and reasoning of what she’s doing. The recreation of the Faye Dunaway egg-eating advert was a particular favourite of mine, less so the liquid ham drinking!
Mr Creep is a tragic yet frightening figure. The scenes of voyeurism, late-night breathy phone-calls, and the exposed fake genitals as he does a karaoke rendition of Radiohead’s Creep are so heightened, you go from shock to laughter with the speed of getting whiplash.
The performance is controlled and a warranted examination of ‘being creeped out’, what it means for our society and how it pervades our culture, often all-to-obviously.
I feel Theodora has achieved a response to one of the most difficult subjects in our society, and in doing so revealed uncomfortable truths that would be lost in more conventional and straightforward theatre. You’re unlikely to see anything more inventive at this year’s fringe.
Stephanie Osztreicher
‘Highly visual and visceral manifestation of power and gender dynamics mixed with absurd comedy and a psychedelic experience… this film makes bold and brave choices.
Ram of God is a commanding piece of art. I dare you to stomach it.’
Brighton Fringe, Liam Offord
‘Picture the weirdest thing you’ve ever seen, and then lace that memory with every psychedelic drug you can think of, now you might be close to the territory Ram of God is operating in…. Wickedly funny, its view of the world is wholly singular and utterly deserving of attention.’
‘Revelling in the bizarre and sinister, van der Beek’s 40-minute film is an extended trip that brilliantly immerses the viewer.
There is something joyously unhinged and disturbing about Ram of God that creates such a complete experience that you cannot help but admire it. It is worth temporarily joining the cult of Ram to enjoy van der Beek’s surreal but engrossing vision.’
Melbourne Fringe, Rob Reid
Edinburgh fringe, Mee-Lai Stone
The Lost Fringe series by The Other Richard
Brighton fringe, Grace Scott
‘Funny and deep in the best combination. If you’re looking for an hour of laughs but something that will leave you thinking afterwards, this is the show for you. The commentary on society and identity is hilarious but equally thought-provoking.’
Edinburgh fringe, Sally Stott
“Stay in your shell and shut up,” people say. Or “Where’s the chicken?” She’s an egg, standing on stage underneath the green yellow club lighting of the Bourbon Bar’s womb-like arches. A mysterious, disembodied voice speaks: “The egg is the symbol of creation; the vessel great work is consummated in.”
Normally the punchline of jokes, here the egg reclaims its image: as the giver of life and a symbol of womanhood – but is funny in the way anyone who “hatches” out of a shell, and runs, chicken-like, around the room can’t really not be. Through the story of a “rebirth”, this curious creature tries to achieve her “potential” in a world where people like her “aren’t given a seat at the table – but they are allowed to clear that table”.
Creator Theodora van der Beek is a brilliantly understated comic writer and performer who draws on the work of Andy Warhol and Lady Gaga, as well as the punk spirit of Deborah Harry and the Sex Pistols to create a highly original stripped-back sci-fi comic-tragedy, delivered with the dry, self-knowing narration of a piece of pulp fiction.
Tim Spooner’s outlandish but ethereal costume enables our aspiring heroine to waddle, clown-like and wide-eyed in a plastic membrane that renders her simultaneously sad and surreally funny. “You stupid whore,” says the robotic voice of her god-like shell, as she embraces the idea that her value can only be measured by the volume of men’s whistles when she eats a banana.
Ultimately she fails to become the woman she was meant to be. However, lying dying in her own egg white, she finally sees the limitations others have placed on her: “Inside the chicken, I crossed a road.” Rarely has an egg joke been used to create such a melancholic, joyful and profound conclusion to a truly original play.
Edinburgh fringe, Amy Bonar
‘The Fringe is known for showcasing avant-garde, boundary-defying work, but this piece of performance art about an egg’s journey is utterly bizarre, even by Fringe standards. Theodora van der Beek hatches before our eyes, encased in a plastic membrane, and waddles innocently around. But, as she embarks upon different endeavours, a disembodied voice tells her that she’s just a “stupid whore”. This is biting satire, as egg becomes a poignant symbol for all the women who fail to reach their potential under the patriarchy.’
Camden People’s Theatre
“Delightful and disorientating, a dizzying chain of events played out with obvious joy.”