Project HaHa

There's a sensory intensity to everyday experiences that we take for granted: the acid rush of squeezing a lemon, singing a song, admiring the incredible intricacy of folded rose petals. It's this kind of “haha” moment that RemoteControl explore, rather than the knee-jerk laughter that follows a joke, in a physical performance that examines and mocks our desperate desire to find happiness.

Petra Casale is a black-clad, vomiting picture of misery, while Christine Ryndak bursts with improbable happiness in a yellow prom dress, intoning “Wow! Wow! Wow!” with the uncomplicated delight of a baby learning to speak, and singing easy listening songs in a painfully effortful pantomime of joy.

But a television plays a silent warning: footage of a woman slumped patiently on the sofa, painting her nails or killing time. It's a visual nod to the Jules Renard quote on their flyers: “If one were to build the house of happiness, the largest space would be the waiting room.”

The two women's efforts to find joy turn sinister, and as futile as the Harmony Hut where Wednesday and Pugsley Addams were sent to fix their pallid summer camp misery. Smiles are held up with clothing pegs, balloons burst.

It's a performance that shines through the strength of its images. Even if the structure can feel directionless, the sensual power of astroturf sunbathing or watching as roses are pegged, one by one, to a washing line holds us fast. It's sweetness, scented with the lingering desperation that comes with trying to be happy.