Anna Thomson as Madame Nightshade with a deadly eggplant Photo: Theresa Harrison Chaos, anarchy and death. There’s nothing comforting or tranquil in Madame Nightshade’s garden. But what is the cause of all this trouble? How and why has nature turned against us? Beatrice welcomes us to the garden, a comforting, neighbourly invite to begin with. A vine of leaves curls across the back of the stage, across the wall, along the floor. There’s a bin for compost and a rake to one side. A stack of crates looms like an altar. It’s adorned with vegetables. Two large bunches of celery. Some cucumbers and a pair of carrots; yellow squash and a long red chili. A set-up for a market or something altogether deadlier? Beatrice has an alter ego she transforms into. Marie Antoinette with a shocking pink beehive hairdo; this is Madame Nightshade – and she’s here to kill. Soon we understand that the tranquility we’ve observed so far is a mask hiding some terrible truths. Nature ha
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