Let me be honest with you; I never quite liked Pringles – the taste of dehydrated potato crisps losing their crunch once in your mouth always rubbed me the wrong way. Seeing these crisps used in an illicit scheme to gain tens of thousands of pounds was apt: their taste is just as fraudulent as their function.

The Heimlich Hustle is a black comedy written by Malcolm Galea and directed by Chiara Hyzler, featuring Julius (Malcolm Galea), a publicist, and Rose (Angele Galea), an art teacher, as a couple trying to save up for a round of IVF, when Miroslav (Davide Tucci), an eccentric Macedonian artist with an Icarus complex, enters their lives (in more ways than one) and turns it upside down.

The plot is quite simple: the couple meets a volatile artist who convinces them of a scheme to get money by becoming internet-famous, involving a self-absorbed actor called Arthur (Myron Ellul), who is a client of Julius. A series of unfortunate events occur, leading to unlucky deaths, missed chances, and finally, an art residency in memoriam of the volatile artist.

The worktable transformed into a doctor’s office, an artist studio, a pub, a podcast recording studio, and a bedroom, depending on the scenes.

Working in the round, the actors manoeuvred around a wooden worktable in the middle of the performance space, with paintings hung behind the audiences.

The worktable transformed into a doctor’s office, an artist studio, a pub, a podcast recording studio, and a bedroom, depending on the scenes. Since the table was the main focal point of the action, the actors worked well in converting its functions through physicality and used the space skilfully. The physical comedy and witty banter were used expertly at the right moments.

Malcolm Galea is truly a master of dark comedy, as clearly shown in this production. Hyzler’s eye for detail in micro expressions, lighting, and the minutest gestures between actors produced an expertly directed production.

I enjoyed the Ocean’s Eleven-esque scheme concocted by Julius together with his wife and their new shared Macedonian lover. The synchronised ballet of Pringles and Heimlich manoeuvres ensued, each actor bouncing their lines from one another at the right pace for tension to be built, culminating into Miroslav choking on sour-cream-and-onion-flavoured Pringles.

The actors played an intense vocal tennis match, jumping from one line to another, pushing the audience into a roaring applause once the hustle was a success

The actors played an intense vocal tennis match, jumping from one line to another, pushing the audience into a roaring applause once the hustle was a success.

One thing to note is that while most scenes pushed the narrative quite well, they could have had sharper timing in some scenes, especially since the staging was so intimate. Pushing the narrative forward to Chekhov’s gun, or can of Pringles, could have been done faster. This could also be due to the interpretation of the characters themselves.

Miroslav (Davide Tucci, left) enters the couple’s lives in more ways than one.

Malcolm Galea as Julius, a biromantic man with eurotophobia and lacking in willpower, was superb. Angele Galea as Rose, a gentle yet neurotic art teacher who strove to become a mother in one way or another, was fantastic.

Myron Ellul pulled off the quintessential egotistical thespian beautifully, the satirisation of such characters becoming the heart of the matter. Nevertheless, I believe the OB/GYN and the podcaster needed different colouring in their speech. Finally, Davide Tucci’s Macedonian artist was a caricature of ‘the eccentric foreigner’.

While Tucci’s comedy at surface level was charming, Tucci painted a portrait of contemporary art and artists – showcasing the question of whether contemporary art is akin to ‘animal by-products’ or ‘a blueprint of a tortured and layered soul’.

Leaving the theatre, I found myself reflecting on the intricate layers of The Heimlich Hustle. Both actor and painter reached their Icarus moments, where the allure of fame and glory led to their inevitable downfall. It is a testament to the playwright and director’s eye for detail that they deftly weave together two parallel narratives while skilfully threading the lines of dark humour.

Walking down the steps of Spazju Kreattiv, still steadfast in my disdain for Pringles, I couldn’t help but chuckle. This play is a reminder that, much like the snack itself, once you pop, you truly can’t stop.