Dark and somewhat daring given the ultra-spartan Bread and Circus performance space in Kensington Market at which it plays, All Hail, Ye Mighty Lords Of Nowhere is a post-apocalyptic, puppet-filled look at the existences of two demons who, having helped humanity destroy itself, begin to turn their machinations on each other.  

First of the creatures, carefully crafted by puppet maker Mathieu René, is Tibs, the insecure, cat-like demon of nostalgia who misses messing with humanity’s ability to love and, perhaps even more, misses its willingness to lose itself in its own memories. Residing above him in the Godot–like tree (the show’s only real set piece) is Tattoon, the grotesque demon of false hope, who relishes the stark silence of the now barren world — silent, that is, but for Tibs’ longing sobs.        

The show’s biggest successes are the passion brought to it by writer, director and performer Alex Winfield, as well as its simple lighting, consisting only of a desk lamp and a red bicycle flasher. Also of note is its soundscape, provided by Ronen Segall via a small flute, a stationary guitar, and an accordion, which, when expanded and compressed without being played, sounds like stale wind blowing over a burnt landscape.  

The evening is about half-an-hour too long, at times seeming to indulge too much in the wit and wandering story on which it progresses (An outside dramaturgical eye might have helped to alleviate this.) Still, one has to respect the effort and intention of a piece so large in scope yet so small in scale. Too often, a lot less is done with a lot more.