People can be incredibly dull.  A boy messing around on his computer, a girl rhapsodizing about the cool kids in class, a couple twittering on about how much they listen to each other and who takes the bins out.  The Apocalypse Bear Trilogy takes these vignettes, adds a man in head-to-toe bear suit, and creates utterly compelling theatre.

This imported Australian fringe piece is certainly a difficult production to stage.  Dealing with such diverse themes as desperation, isolation and internet connection, in a world where time and space are compressed so that past and present become simultaneous, it’s easy for an audience to feel disorientated.  But the skilful Pete Skidmore (Jeremy/man) and Victoria Fell (Sonya/woman) keep the more surreal elements rooted in the everyday and the intimate.  Their calmly delivered lines and thoughtful pauses give us time to process the layers of dreams and realities; they keep the weird worldly.

And then there’s the bear.  The creature that’s been lurking around the Sidgwick Site for the last few days in a strange and not altogether welcome publicity stunt, thankfully proves to be more than just a creepy guy in an animal onesie.  Freddy Sawyer plays him as parent figure, as a fearful creature of the woods, as a chummy lunch-buddy, and even (crazily) as a regular bear, mentioning casually in the canteen that he’d prefer fish as ‘it’s what I normally eat in my habitat.’  Sometimes the shifts between characterization are rapid; other times, as with the play as a whole, these alternative personas are represented at once.  The bear is sympathetic, menacing, neutral.  That’s a lot of emotions for a man with a mask on his face the entire time.

As a play with the word ‘apocalypse’ in the title, it’s mandatory for it to acknowledge the biggie: death. At first this seems peremptory.  A nasty description by the bear of Jeremy’s sister being gang-raped and murdered as passers-by do nothing is received with an almost cheerful ‘Shit!’.  But Jeremy goes on, in classic Aussie idiom, ‘nah, she wouldn’t be dead, I don’t reckon.’  This intrusion of possibility highlights the blurry boundary between fact and fiction within this most surreal yet real play.  Death is a recurring presence in the same way that the bear is: as a strange phenomenon with which to contend.

Michael Grechishkin’s set design makes an eerily beautiful space for these complex ideas to unfold.  Untreated wood everywhere is a visual reminder of the conjunction of the civilized world and the savage woods within.  With a few naked bulbs, it makes a nice metaphor for our messy minds.  Sound is used evocatively, though unfortunately at times in the second ‘play’ this very effort at evocation detracts from the event, as Fell’s soft voice is drowned out by a soundtrack of the clamour of a school cafeteria.  I say, ‘play’, for this is not a trilogy of short plays, as advertised, but a three-act unit, wholly conceived, cleverly linked, thoughtfully produced, highly recommended.

The Apocalypse Bear Trilogy runs until Saturday at the Corpus Playroom, 9.30pm