Photo: Yulia Orlova
An appreciation of the Well Walk Theatre: A Magic Bistro
The Well Walk Theatre appears in a suitably secret street
As a vision, anchoring on the corner as a new and open home
For the heart; French styled it defines what we would wish
And want from a Bistro, which doubles as theatre;
With its mini Music Hall in the basement as a space to contain
Precious art. It was a kind of dream finding it, having been
Invited for coffee, (and exquisite galettes – Thank you Stephen)
And in talking to Dylan McNeil, its impressario and protector,
It was clear to me from first glance that this is the kin of
Private place we all seek when we try to picture enchantment,
Which is what the show I saw, Magic Bistro has captured,
With its mix of magic for children, with a means for each adult
To make memory itself rise and dance. Magic Bistro is
A Poetic Comedy in Mime, as described, conceived and
Performed by Zina Drouche and Marina Turmo,
Where the café’s faux between century setting shows us
How each small signifier on stage, immediately transports
Us back towards a truly romanticised moment in which
A former Paris is pictured, and we can promenade past
A lost age. For this a family show and this is a family Theatre.
An array of beautiful childrens books greet you,
As does Dylan himself, plus sweet staff. Before you enter
The world that Drouche and Turmo prepare, service starting
With Drouche as Waitrix, sans language, but nevertheless
Primed for laughs. From an operetta tick-tocked,
Each second seems special. Drouche introduces the world
In which children can be easily introduced to real awe.
As Turmo’s exquisite Diner enters, the magic exchange
Is ecstatic, with the Waiter taking her green coat in one
Stealing movement, wearing it to make it his/her own,
To an image in which an inflating balloon lifts the floor.
By way of levitating plates and two wines, effortlessly
Poured from one bottle; to a toddler stooge sweetly masking
The Diner’s hypnotic descent in her place. To fights with
A shadow Chef, escaped mouse, and a menu shedding
Its letters, each moment and motion served up a smile
For each face. Today’s is a cynical world but here was
35 minutes of magic. Small scale and yet epic for all
Of the tiny souls I saw sat. There were no cries.
They were caught. And this seemed to me Oh so special.
Photo: Yulia Orlova
Each artifice felt authentic. And new dimensions were
Raised from the flat. Be that playing card, page, or day
Beyond; all was altered, which is the hope and aim
Of all theatre, which is to make something totally of itself
And thus pure. I was held from the start. The friend I was
With found it wholesome, an aspect much needed what with
All we have now; an escape. The theatre seems run by all
Who’d perform there. There is a sense of playground
And grotto and the form of floor made for dancers,
Across which Marcel Marceau may have scraped.
Or Copeau, Cocteau, Lecoq or Barrault. It’s a palace,
Amidst residences and across from a pub sibling named.
I cleared a mote in my eye with a joyful tear. I felt purer.
In simplicity sits the complex. In the challenge to believe
Rests the game. What Dylan has done, along with his coterie
of bright colleagues is to shine a light across darkness
And made a thoroughly jaded age now ‘re-gem’
If that is a word. No, its not. But we must do all we can
To recapture that first sense of wonder which pulls
At the heartstrings and lifts the legs to walk by the hem,
Allowing us to time travel back, and once more unearth
The exquisite. You can do it by taking a trip to this theatre
And what it does next. Art as stem. And from a flower I give
In attempting to describe the delightful. For this is what
Each audience member is offered: something exquisite
And sweeter than air. Inhale them
David Erdos 30/9/25
