Make Better Please

Uninvited Guests' Make Better Please is another entry in what appears to be a bumper year for political theatre. Although the definition of what makes theatre is increasingly vexed - most of the productions avoid the earnest analysis of the classic 1970s agit-prop dramas - Make Better Please has, at its heart, a satirical impersonation of David Cameron. He might be wearing a cock made out of newspapers, and channelling half a dozen celebrities, including Sir Jimmy Saville, but he is still recognisable as the leader of the nation. And in the previous hour, subjects as serious as the UKIP foster care controversy and the state of Brian May's haircut had already been covered.

After their previous visit to Tramway 1 with Love Letters, this new direction is disruptive. For the first hour, it's classic Uninvited Guests audience interaction: a nice bit sit down and a cup of tea, a chat about the day's news. Of course, the media is full of horror stories - sexual exploitation, murders, sweat shop conditions, Brian May hunting animals - and these headlines become the substance of the second act, when the break out groups reconvene in a large circle to report back.

The slide towards mayhem and shouting is gradual. The various news reports are shared, the performers organise the information, then role-play characters. A woman is Alex Salmond, Donald Trump, inviting questions from the floor. Then the audience are asked to visualise specific moments of terror, ripped from the papers. From sunday social to encounter session: it's going all a bit ritualistic.

After the audience has been invited to wear masks of the recently deceased, the lights dim and the drums come out. The demonic David Cameron routine begins and is baptised in tea. The music gets louder, the atmosphere heavier. By the time the full force of the ritual is released, Cameron is half naked, howling and ready to be sacrificed.

The shift is awkward: it doesn't quite freeze the smile on the face, but peels back the gentle liberalism of  the early discussions to reveal a vicious demonology lurking behind the headlines. The mood is abruptly darkened, almost deceitfully. Fortunately, they conclude by ritually burning the headlines, letting the ask scatter with a plea to "make better please."

The politics are vague: sure, they have a crack at Cameron and Clegg, but the parodies are more mockery than serious satire. The subjects that come up - selected by the audience - are uncontroversial in their nastiness, and strangely not especially timely. UKIP's implicit racism, sex slavery, Israel and Palestine, Third World factory conditions: these are, sadly, timeless. There's a general distaste for the excesses of capitalism but the over-riding message is the way that media bombards the bad news. Even The Sunday Post is filled with scare stories.

The rock'n'roll interlude does have the vitality of direct protest, all rage and disgust. Yet the finale contains the anguish, hopes for forgiveness and redemption with an almost Christian piety. The power, the rage, the glory of anger are left behind and the audience is asked to leave quietly.