Bryony Kimmings starts her latest show Bog Witch by explaining that she has a big hole to fill. It gets an easy laugh but also goes deeper. She has reached the age where she is yearning for something in life that isn't just about partying, consumerism, Jo Malone products. She needs to shake things up and get to the heart of what mnatters.

 

Bog Witch is her autobiographical story of moving from the city to the country. Kimmings isn't the sort of person to do things by halves. After meeting a eco-warrior sexy geek she goes about as off grid as it is possible to go in the wilds of Sussex. Forget Tom and Barbara in The Good Life, Kimmings would knit her own muesli if it was possible.

 

The show certainly fits a lot into its 105-minute running time. It starts with a very funny monologue, which is the closest it gets to stand-up. There are also gentle songs that waft in and out of the narrative. The stage is filled with tall thin trees (one with a telephone attached). Earth is soon scattered all around. As we follow Kimmings through the ever-changing four seasons we find ourselves in a distinctly folky world. 

 

Soon, as the title suggests, the story gets weird as she tries to settle into her new life. There's a heavily symbolic oak treee outside her window and she gets fixated on a swampy patch of land, hence the show title. The new world she inhabits features a number of strong female characters. There are echoes of Bridget Christie's The Change here, in the idea of women and mothers taking control.

 

The one thing Kimmings can't control, however, is the weather. The underlying theme of Bog Witch is the climate crisis. At one point a Wizard of Oz-style tornado is whipped up. Impressive sound effects and an onscreen backdrop of animals and barns scooped into the air make it feel frighteningly real.

 

Kimmings is very good at threading her own story through the narrative. There's a pagan sensibility to her new lifestyle, a sense of breaking away from norms. I'd just written 'wicker man' in my notes when Kimmings mentions to cult movie herself. 

 

Eventually her journey of self-discovery takes on an increasingly personal tone when she becomes pregnant and feels the future of the planet even more intensely than she already did. It's a pivotal moment in the performance that moves it away from comedy into something more serious.

 

Does she fully commit to the new community? Does the new community commit to Kimmings? In the closing coda audience members are invited onstage to play animals, trees and, erm, mushrooms. This is not some daft 'I'm a teapot' theatre exercise, but a moving profound finale.

 

Kimmings' work has never been categorisable and once again she has produced something that truly transcends genres. It's not all comedy, but there is plenty of playfulness here. At one point she intentionally gets the words "bubonic" and "bucolic" muddled. But does she fill her big hole? You'll have to buy a ticket if you want to find out.