MöcShplat: Macbeth Played by Clowns. In Gibberish.

“That was a great show! My face hurts.” The first comment eavesdropped outside the theatre couldn’t have more closely matched my own post-show state.

MöcShplat‘s eponymous lead’s face was probably hurting too, not so much from the incessant laughter his antics produced but from a succession of over-the-top jaw movements, his makeup literally melting off opening night of the “clown-noir” account of Shakespeare’s shortest tragedy, Macbeth, which you kind of expect after seeing actor Marcel Jeannin perform the equivalent of a 70-minute aerobics session.

A production which elicited hate mail from Shakespeare purists when it first debuted in 1997 at the Montreal Fringe Festival, “aerobic” doesn’t even begin to describe the MöcShplat experience.

MöcShplat‘s eponymous lead’s face was probably hurting too, not so much from the incessant laughter his antics produced but from a succession of over-the-top jaw movements, his makeup literally melting off opening night of the “clown-noir” account of Shakespeare’s shortest tragedy, Macbeth, which you kind of expect after seeing actor Marcel Jeannin perform the equivalent of a 70-minute aerobics session.

A production which elicited hate mail from Shakespeare purists when it first debuted in 1997 at the Montreal Fringe Festival, “aerobic” doesn’t even begin to describe the MöcShplat experience.

Sprechen Sie MöcShplat?

A spinal cord doubling as a fashion accessory, phones better known as dinkle-binkle-dinkle-bings, a bizarre birthing situation, unlimited gore action featuring red yarn… MöcShplat is daring. MöcShplat is dark.

MöcShplat is weird.

And the laughs kept coming in a room with everyone from 12-year-olds to seniors in stitches over the play’s slapstick antics and made-up language of 65 words, a combination of intuitive neologisms—instead of “birds and the bees,” it’s “bzzzzz tweet tweet tweet”—and scripted gibberish, invented words like “eez-booday,” which means dead or murdered, or “spanglu,” an alternative to thank you, and “haki daki,” the word for battle. Gesticulations timed to said gibberish prevented the room from losing the plot.

As for the four-person cast, they fed off each other in more ways than one—cue disembowelment. Michel Perron, who channelled his inner canine via Buddy the Dog, also incarnated Quindönk, MöchSphlat‘s answer to King Duncan—think part  The Godfather‘s raspy voice, part Van Vladimir Harkonnen‘s good looks—a performance by itself worth the ticket price.

To fully appreciate MöchSphlat, brush up on Macbeth prior to the show. Or not. Either way, you’ll leave with sore cheeks. Or a stomach cramp. It’s a tossup, really.

A Clowns Gone Bad production presented by Geordie Productions MöchSphlat stars Danielle Desormeaux, Marcel Jeannin, Michel Perron and John Sheridan. Directed by Alain Goulem.