Barking mad, hilarious, and surprisingly heartfelt.
Fixed Foot Productions’ Australian premiere of Chicken in a Biscuit, presented at the Old Fitz Theatre, celebrates the uncanny, sacred, and sometimes seriously dysfunctional bonds between humans and their pets. Written by Mary Rachel Brown and Jamie Oxenbould, the play unfolds as a series of character monologues – some human, some animal – performed with boldness and charm by the two-person cast that gives us a wild insight into the inner thoughts of our pets. Audiences were in stitches from the very first moment of the play, and some (myself included) left the theatre with wet eyes and a desperate urge to hug a domesticated animal.
From the very first moment, the show sets its tone. A hilariously warped version of Also sprach Zarathustra (yes, the 2001: A Space Odyssey one) blares out, plunging the audience into a surreal, lovable world. Kate Beere’s set design – a pastel, fluffy, cloud-painted playpen – provides the perfect playground for imagination, hinting at both the innocence and absurdity to come.
Oxenbould and Mandy Bishop navigate a wild array of characters with impressive dexterity and commitment. The animal portrayals are not overly literal but rather humanised, striking the right balance of physical nuance to suggest each species while bringing distinct, characterful personalities to life.
The first character we meet is Truffles, a self-proclaimed “olfactory expert” and aging chocolate lab, played with goofy sincerity by Oxenbould. His comedic musings on the mathematics and history of smells was accompanied by a projected slideshow (designed by Oxenbould himself) that instantly established a quirky, light-hearted atmosphere for the show. While the first scene felt more like a stand-up routine than a play, it gains momentum as threads between the monologues and characters start to connect, though further integration would elevate the production even more.
Each scene introduced a memorable smell, from thrifted velvet, to cum stains, and caravans, that supposedly help pets make sense of their owner’s world.
Bishop’s standout moment comes early as a sassy Russian cat, recently adopted by the pathetic Lisa Wilson. With fantastic comedic timing, Bishop nails the feline brand of disdain, cringing at her owner’s desperate attempts at affection while also trying to reckon with her fate in this new relationship and home.
Oxenbould’s portrayal of Dr. Nestbender – Lisa Wilson’s dentist – is another highlight. Despite the absurd and hilarious script, Oxenbould was very convincing as Nestbender pleading to keep his medical license after an unfortunate incident with a furry patient, effectively conveying a sincere desire for connection… whether that’s with his fifteen pet rabbits or someone in a husky suit.
Bishop then appeared as a an excitable small dog, with a big bark and a shock collar, depicting the fearless energy of a pet whose duty is to protect their owner.
Perhaps the most unexpected part of the play was the darkly funny story of Paisley the influencer pug. At Paisley’s live-streamed funeral, the devastated owner (Oxenbould) recounts the unforgettable day of the Barbeques Galore ad shoot where he discovered his dog’s talent agent, Marsha, Harvey Weinstein-ing innocent Paisley.
Before the final scene, we are introduced to the iconic Janelle Paws at the dog park brilliantly portrayed by Mandy Bishop. This character reminded me of a mix between Kath Day-Knight and Sue Sylvester; a hilarious caricature conducting a phone interview with Lisa Wilson to assess her fitness for adopting a rescue dog, complete with all the important, relevant questions – like her sexuality. It was especially delightful when Truffles reappeared, and the two actors finally interacted through a round of belly rubs. I would’ve loved to see more crossover moments like this, with both performers sharing the stage.
The final scene was what really got me. If Marley and Me taught me anything it’s that you can’t watch a lovely, funny story about a dog without heartbreak. After a fun day at the park, Truffles was now at the vet being fed Lindt balls. This last smell was labelled as ‘the end’- the smell of grass, salty tears, his mum, chicken in a biscuit. Cue Here Comes the Sun, cue the lump in my throat.
Overall, Chicken in a Biscuit was a real treat (pun intended). The script, direction, and performances were playful, absurd, funny, and at times genuinely moving, reminding us how impactful and symbiotic the relationship between a pet and their owner can be; how they enrich our lives as much as we enrich theirs, how their inner worlds are as vivid, and, of course, how they can sniff out your true scent from a mile away.
