Oskar Keogh reviews (draft)
25 March 2026
Öh is an energetic, bittersweet production that was recently staged at Theatre Arts as part of the Young Professionals series. This programme gives graduating students the opportunity to share their work with one another across universities, and encourages some much-needed cross-pollination between institutions that often remain rather insular in their creative output.
The story follows a personal chef named Mohn, who navigates his kitchen with the controlling spirit of a feudal lord. His cooking is set to a classical score which he dials on and off when the mood strikes him. Mohn conducts himself with exacting precision in a rather measured, tepid tempo. All his culinary preparations follow a comfortable humdrum rhythm with the help of a seemingly sentient built-in cupboard (perhaps the most endearing character of them all), which acts as a kind of magical oven and sous-chef.
This nifty little setup all comes crashing down with the arrival of a mystery chef, who emerges from the wooden womb of the kitchen cupboard. Mohn’s carefully curated world is thrown into total disarray, and the slapstick romp commences. What follows is a series of culinary mishaps which result in some fishy dishes and emotional growth.
For all its magical realism and charm, this production needs some tightening up. In comedies of any kind, there is a certain tension that needs to be maintained. It’s a kind of trill that should alternate and mount in order to hold an audience’s attention, and this production did not keep a firm grip on it. The actors took lengthy, often indulgent pauses in moving through a scene. They let the moment die again, and again. When this happens as often as it did, it becomes increasingly difficult to connect to the characters and empathise with their motives.
But it’s worth bearing in mind that this critique comes from the perspective of an adult. It’s easy to imagine how this particular performative lack could be easily forgiven by a younger audience member. Given the show is open to all ages, I think its steady pace could mark a healthy change for a generation plagued by the brainrot of Cocomelon. I also think the French gibberish that the characters communicate in would be welcomed with open arms by any young fans of the Minions franchise.
Unfortunately, this also happens to be my other major gripe with the show, the characters’ speech mimics a kind of French version of the Minion language rather closely. And my aversion to the Minions is powerful. I ought to defend this position by saying that I am not entirely immune to the comedic enchantment of ridiculous gobbledygook. As a longstanding admirer of the Swedish Chef and Pingu, I can recognise its charms. To many readers, drawing a distinction here might seem totally absurd (and they would be correct) but it is my strong belief that there is a major tonal difference between these forms of poppycock.
My theory is that Pinguinese, and whatever the Swedish Chef is on about, seems to hold the distinctive cadences of a Nordic language rather well. The lilts feel authentic, allowing for some lovely deadpan wallops. Whereas this French Minionese the leads were speaking felt rather flighty and manic. It didn’t seem to have any inherent logic to it other than the insistent repetition of certain phrases, which made it difficult to lock into the actors’ exchanges.
A language of malarky, when done well, can be incredibly effective. One need only think of the language of ‘Dogg’ in Tom Stoppard’s Dogg’s Hamlet, Cahoot’s Macbeth where standard English words take on entirely new meanings. But once again, a seven-year-old might really beg to differ here. In writing this, I do feel like a bit of a Scrooge; I just don’t think this production is meant for single adults in their thirties. Despite my aversions, I can appreciate Öh’s merits, and I genuinely think it’s the kind of thing a young family would enjoy immensely.
Written by Kristen FICHARDT, Shannon HENDRY & Sonja LOUW | Directed by Kristen FICHARDT | Performed by Shannon HENDRY, Sonja LOUW, Enzo COCCIANTE