Love it or loathe it, there’s nothing quite like Tao of Glass – in the first half, Phelim McDermott talks a lot, even over the music of Philip Glass played by a live band. So much so that I began to wonder whether there was much point in having a live band. Then again, Glass has composed scores for various films, and a few Broadway productions, so spoken dialogue over his music was, to be blunt, only to be expected. But if, like McDermott, you happen to be someone who likes to sit (or, in his case, lie down) and listen to Glass’ compositions, there’s scope for that after the interval – patience is rewarded for those who stick it out.
The audience was very attentive. So they should be, some would immediately reply, though I still say it is highly unusual, at least in my experience, for the only audible rustling during the performance to come from the stage itself, thanks to a copious amount of paper that serves multiple purposes. In a moment of cathartic confession, McDermott recalls the time he was sharing his ideas for a theatre play with Glass, only to discover the influential composer had nodded off. For McDermott to add that Philip Glass had, in his (McDermott’s) view, sent more people to sleep than any other composer was indicative of McDermott knowing the limitations of Glass’ appeal.
McDermott throws the kitchen sink and then some at a stoic and quietly determined effort at telling his story, and I’m still not sure if it was more about Philip Glass or more about himself. There’s puppetry, there are some curious costumes, there are expositions into ancient Eastern philosophy, and there are more contemporary frameworks of consciousness (namely, for anyone wondering if I was paying sufficient attention, Arnold Mindell’s theory of three levels of experience and perception). All this makes for an evening that occasionally gets rather deep and difficult to fully grasp on a first listen. Far more easily understood is the traditional Japanese art of kintsugi, repairing broken pottery and making it usable again. Commendably, it is left to the audience to work out the wider implications for people and society.
Still, there was plenty to think about, and the show was somewhat refreshing in not being a compendium of crises and trauma scenarios in order to ramp up dramatic tension. Here, the biggest source of stress in McDermott’s narrative is the sudden disappearance of a pricey coffee table. McDermott is as unafraid of frenetic activity as he is of utter stillness, and both are in evidence in a wide-ranging and ultimately charming performance. Deeper meanings are abound in everyday objects and situations, and these deeper meanings are largely accessible. The technique used in standup comedy of circling back to an earlier narrative point is done well, and brought some much-needed humour to the performance.
A stage revolve is used to good effect in this theatre’s in-the-round configuration. Some might view Tao of Glass as the height of self-indulgence. I disagree. McDermott speaks for himself and does not lay claim to be speaking for anyone else, which is how it should be, and anyone seeing this production can take or leave what he says. I can’t see myself forking out to lie in a ‘flotation pod’ any time soon. Anyway, I suspect it would be difficult for most patrons to take umbrage with the message that music and the live performing arts enrich and enliven people’s lives for the better. If you like your theatrical experience to ‘show, not tell’, you might want to stay clear of this production. Otherwise, the art of storytelling blossoms in this curious and fascinating show.
Review by Chris Omaweng
An exploration of life, loss and a single question: Where does true inspiration come from?
Composer Philip Glass and performer-director Phelim McDermott (Improbable) have worked together on acclaimed opera productions in London, New York and beyond, and Tao of Glass is their most personal collaboration yet. Inspired by a dream, this West End premiere marries ten meditations on life, death and Taoist wisdom with ten brand new pieces of music from Glass, presented by McDermott with an ensemble of musicians and puppeteers.
Part-concert, part-performance, Tao of Glass is a storytelling tapestry, soundtracked by Glass’s mesmerising music and shot through with Improbable’s trademark theatricality.
CAST
Phelim McDermott as himself
Puppeteer/Puppet Captain – Sarah Wright
Puppeteer – Janet Etuk
Puppeteer/Understudy Phelim McDermott – Vic Llewellyn
Understudy Puppeteer – Andrew Futaishi
BAND
Musical Director and Percussionist – Chris Vatalaro
Pianist and Associate Musical Director – Katherine Tinker
Clarinetist – Jack McNeill
Violinist – Kasia Ziminska
Percussionist – Daniel Bradley and Simon Roth
Deputy Pianist – Satoshi Kubo
Deputy Clarinetist – Oliver Pashley
Deputy Violinist – Nadine Nagen
CREATIVE TEAM
Composer – Philip Glass
Writer and Co-Director – Phelim McDermott
Co-Director – Kirsty Housley
Musical Director – Chris Vatalaro
Designer – Fly Davis
Lighting Designer – Colin Grenfell
Sound Designer – Giles Thomas
Associate Director – Peter Relton
TAO OF GLASS
@sohoplace
25 July to 12 September 2026
