I have to admit, the idea of watching a puppet show about 1960s London swinging and scheming did make me raise an eyebrow. Not in a horrified way, more the sort of mild surprise you get when your sensible aunt suddenly suggests shots after dinner. Yet there it was, running at The Yard Theatre in Hackney Wick from 21 July to 1 August, a Swedish production that turned Jackie Collins's banned-in-several-countries debut novel into something decidedly adult and unexpectedly alive.
The World Is Full of Married Men first landed in 1968, stuffed with sex, power, careers and the film industry in a way that had censors reaching for their red pens. Malmö Dockteater, teaming up with Malmö Stadsteater, decided the best way to retell it was with dolls. Not your average finger puppets either. These come anatomically enhanced, performing in miniature dollhouse sets while the puppeteers stay visible in an open, DIY aesthetic that feels both farcical and strangely intimate.
Directed by Erik Holmström, with performers Kajsa Ericsson and Erik Olsson and live video from Josefin Beischer, the piece is performed in Swedish with English captions. Lulu Raczka handled the translation. What struck me most, thinking about it later over a lukewarm cup of tea, is how this odd marriage of puppetry and provocative narrative quietly makes the case for something bigger. In an age when so much culture feels flattened onto screens, here was a room full of people watching physical theatre adapt a literary work that once caused outrage. The story may be set in the London of half a century ago, but the form feels very much of the now.
The unexpected horniness of dolls
Holmström apparently once said he had a dream of making a show where the audience secretly becomes a bit horny and that you do not expect it from a puppet theatre. The Guardian reported as much in an interview with the director. I laughed when I read that, then realised he had a point. There is something disarming about watching crafted figures act out the messy realities of desire and ambition. The distance created by the puppets somehow lets the satire land sharper, the provocation sit easier. No awkward actor eye contact to break the spell.
I keep coming back to the memory of sitting in tiny theatres years ago, watching stories unfold with nothing but lights, bodies and a bit of imagination. This production, co-produced between the two Malmö companies, leans into that same tradition while giving it a twist. The live video element blends theatre with something almost cinematic, echoing the film industry world the novel skewers. It is clever without feeling smug, bold without tipping into shock for its own sake.
And that, if I'm honest, is what lingers. Not the specific plot points or even the anatomical details of the dolls, but the reminder that British stages, even when hosting international work, still have room for this kind of playful experimentation. We queue for tickets, sit in the dark, and let someone else's version of an old tale remind us why narrative traditions refuse to die. A bit ridiculous, a bit tender, and thoroughly entertaining.
