Elf insists she’s not in this show—but don’t be fooled. Instead, prepare to meet Treacle, a dressage horse (who is definitely not Elf in a hat with horse ears), as she brings to life mythical horses and the beloved horses from Elf’s childhood imaginary farm. This is a show about horses, but first and foremost, it is a show about childhood and grieving childhood. It’s about the pretend games we forget to play, the ones we almost can’t play as adults. From the moment Elf steps on stage and asks for a mimed light for her mimed cigarette, the audience is drawn into her world. We loosen up, ready to follow her into a fantasy that is funny, shambolic, and above all, deeply earnest.
The humour is an odd balance, toeing the line between naive and horrifying, like an overly gory children’s cartoon. The characters are oblivious, their voices cartoonish and exaggerated, yet there’s an undercurrent of real violence and danger. In Elf’s imaginary world, no one is safe. The recurring theme of children falling into wells, for example, feels like a metaphor for Elf’s grief—a longing for a simpler time when pretending to be horses could make everything okay. It’s as if her real-life sorrow over losing the ability to play with her siblings bleeds into her performance, creating a bittersweet tension between laughter and unease.
The sketches are a highlight, covering all the important horses: the cunning Trojan horse, the majestic Pegasus, and the aged ex-warhorse Half-Pint, among other horses. Between the sketches, we’re treated to interview extracts with Elf’s family, who recount the elaborate horse games she used to play with her siblings. These moments add a layer of poignancy, grounding the show in a real sense of loss and nostalgia.
Elf herself is a captivating presence, an endearing overgrown child who refuses to let go of her imagination. While the rest of the world grows up, she remains outside, still pretending, still playing. Her joy is infectious, and you can’t help but want to join her. Yet, there’s a sadness beneath the surface, a quiet acknowledgment that this kind of play is fleeting, that childhood is a well we all eventually fall into and can’t climb out of (unless you have arms long enough, that is).
Elf’s show is more than a tribute to horses—it’s a heartfelt exploration of the games we leave behind and the grief we carry for the children we once were. It’s a reminder that, even as adults, we can still find moments of magic if we’re willing to pretend. The show’s brilliance lies in its ability to balance humor and heartbreak, inviting us to laugh while quietly mourning the loss of innocence. It’s a celebration of imagination, a eulogy for childhood, and a call to reclaim the joy of play, even if only for an hour.
Recommended drink: I would urge you to drink an apple juice from a cartoon and place a sugar cube on your tongue before going out to play with Elf. Sometimes a sugar high is just what the doctor ordered.
Catch Elf Lyons: Horses at the Hetzel Room (at the State Library) @ the Courtyard of Curiosities at the Migration Museum on Wed 26 Feb - Sun 02 Mar at 7:30pm and Tue 04 Mar - Sun 09 Mar at 7:30pm, as well as the Drama Llama @ Rhino Room on Tue 11 Mar - Sat 15 Mar at 9:00pm.