Tiger. Omnibus Theatre.

Joe Eyre’s slice of comic magical realism Tiger, currently at Clapham’s Omnibus theatre, sees a fluffy wise-cracking tiger with a talent for knock-knock jokes intrude on the lives of a grieving stand-up comedian and her doctor partner. Think a mildly witty and gently melancholic South London take on Yann Martel’s Life of Pi, with a hint of Mary Poppins thrown in for good measure.

Alice’s (Poppy Allen-Quarmby) terminally ill dad took an overdose ten months ago and the grief-stricken funny-woman cannot move on. “How can you not be here?” she demands angrily of her absent parent, but answer comes none. Alice wants the freedom to howl in anger like a child but there is something inside stopping her. Submerged in depression, her life is an emotional “black hole” that “sucks the life out of” everything it touches. No wonder she suffers constant nightmares.

Partner Oli (Luke Nunn) aims to help but he is busy on nights at A&E and, truth be told, more than a little frustrated at Alice’s extended mourning and inability to even leave the house. Add into the mix a dark secret about dad’s death the duo are keeping to themselves, one that threatens the foundation of their relationship.

Strapped for cash, the couple advertise dad’s empty room for rent. Tiger (Meg Lewis) pitches up on New Year’s Eve, bedecked in striped suit, long tail, and black motorcycle helmet. The visitor has no job, no phone, no luggage, and has never heard of Star Wars or computers. But Alice rents him the room all the same. “Why take him in?” asks her bemused partner. “He made me laugh” she answers matter-of-factly. Do not anticipate much explanation for the magical occurrences over the following acts.

Tiger’s one-liners, easy candour, spoonerisms (“I have no subterior motives” he reassures a distrustful Oli) and smooth line in bedtime lullabies soon see Alice’s heartache lift a little. But is Tiger really all he seems? Oli is suspicious; “we are not friends” he tells Tiger, “I can’t be friends with someone I can’t see”.  Can the couple’s love survive the presence of an unexpected furry stranger?

Eyre’s narrative oozes symbolism but he sensibly eschews the temptation to make too obvious what or who the character of Tiger represents. Is he a reincarnated father-figure there to offer Alice forgiveness and redemption? Is he a companion to help guide Alice through the trials and tribulations of processing her loss? Is he grief itself, with who Alice must come to uneasy terms? The character has no friends, cannot bear to be touched, and is seemingly on a cosmic journey of his own, all of which hint that not everything about him is benign.

The storyline feels on the slim side, and we leave without knowing much about who these characters really are. But Eyre writes with momentum and has something to say in Tiger about the fluid, evolving nature of grief, and of the unanticipated outcomes of the grieving process. The tone, a little too self-consciously wistful at times, arouses chuckles rather than belly laughs. Myles O’Gorman’s direction feels a little too restrained.

Hazel Low’s set, a suburban living room whose walls, floor, and sparse furniture are entirely encased in rose pink faux fur, has the tint, tone and feel of the Hollywood blockbuster Barbie. It looks great, although it is not altogether easy to see what Low is getting at here. It certainly evokes the soft, cosy warmth of a stuffed animal. Perhaps also the feel of living in a bereaved mind, full of cotton wool.

Allen-Quarmby is excellent as the orphaned comedian who just cannot find a way of moving on from her hurt. Good too is sober and restrained Nunn as Alice’s loving but frustrated partner. But it is Lewis who delivers the show’s standout performance as the wise and wise-cracking Tiger. Equals parts Groucho Marx, Top Cat from the ‘60s TV animation series, and Willy Loman from Death Of A Salesman (with a dash of Forrest Gump thrown in) they slink and strut about the stage with feline grace. Occasionally the nasal A’s and dropped R’s of their New Jersey accent slip a little, but Lewis’ flair for comic timing compensates.

Warm, comforting, and gently cathartic Tiger is attractive Autumnal fare.

Writer: Joe Eyre

Director: Myles O’Gorman