Paper Swans Review: A Surreal Dance of Repetition at Soho Theatre
A hypnotic and unsettling exploration of life’s loops—paper swans, ballet dresses, and all.
Paper Swans begins like a strange, late-night dream. A security guard, Peter, walks through a deserted park. He stumbles across a woman in a ballet dress, folding paper swans. She’s calm, focused, as if nothing’s wrong. He, on the other hand, is completely baffled. What’s a ballet dancer doing here, on a bench, in the dark, folding swans? Why? She doesn’t answer him—she just keeps folding. And when he asks her to leave? She insists she can’t. She has to finish the swans. Before morning. Yes, before morning.
And so, the loop begins.
Each time they meet, things shift just enough to make you feel like you’ve slipped into some dream—or nightmare. The park, the bench, the woman in the tutu, and Peter, the clueless guard—each cycle feels familiar, yet slightly off. Like déjà vu, only weirder. Like Groundhog Day with more paper and fewer jokes.
Photos by Michael Drop
The beauty of the piece is in how little is explained. What exactly is going on here? Is Anna alive? Dead? A ghost? A spirit trapped in some endless loop? Or just a woman really committed to making paper swans, which, honestly, I can respect. It’s the same thing every time, but never quite the same. It’s like those dreams where you think you’re awake but then realize—nope, you’re still dreaming.
Vyte Garriga, who also wrote and stars in the piece, is captivating. Her movements are slow and deliberate: graceful, but also eerie. She could have been a ballerina in another life – or someone trapped in a loop of her own making. There’s a haunting calm about her that makes you question what’s really happening. Is she playing Peter? Is he playing her? The tension is subtle but ever present, expressed in every gesture. He’s the rigid, slightly clueless park keeper; she’s lost in her own world, folding swans and insisting she must finish before morning. He asks why. She doesn’t answer. She just is.
Daniel Chrisostomou, playing Peter, brings fantastic energy to the role. He’s not just a “man in a uniform” — he’s a man whose mind is slowly unraveling. The more time he spends with Anna, the more he falls into her rhythm, and his actions become a mechanical dance of repetition. It’s oddly charming. His movements, stiff at first, transform into a hypnotic physical routine that mirrors the absurdity of their encounters. You can’t help but laugh at his bewilderment — though it’s unclear whether that’s part of the show’s dark humour or if you’ve simply gone mad alongside him. Either way, it’s a performance that keeps you on your toes — or in Peter’s case, firmly on his.
The minimal set—birch trees, a park bench, and simple fabric backdrops—creates an intimate, almost poetic atmosphere. Anna’s paper swans fill the invisible lake, and though the space is tight, it feels deliberate. With just a few objects and clever use of light and music, the production conjures a world that is both sparse and full, drawing the audience into its quiet absurdity.
Nick Hart’s score imbues the piece with an eerie, haunting beauty, weaving in Lithuanian folk influences that feel both ancient and contemporary. The music enhances the dreamlike quality—subtle, layered, and quietly unsettling. Meanwhile, the lighting shifts seamlessly from soft and ethereal to sharp and menacing, keeping the audience uncertain whether to laugh, cry, or simply ask for more swans.
Paper Swans offers no easy answers. It is absurd, certainly, but also quietly poetic. It lingers in the mind, prompting questions: What is it really about? Why the swans? Why the repetition? Who is trapped, and who the captor? The meaning you take away depends entirely on what you bring to it—your own interpretation becomes part of the experience.
Rating: **** – Highly recommended. For lovers of the absurd, Paper Swans is a strange, poetic experience. Just be prepared to leave wondering what, exactly, you have witnessed.
Paper Swans
Runs: Monday 28 April – Saturday 3 May (closed Thursday 1 May)
Tickets: From £15
Venue: Soho Theatre Upstairs, 21 Dean Street, London W1D 3NE
Website: sohotheatre.com/events/paper-swans
Elena Leo is the Arts & Lifestyle Editor of Ikon London Magazine.
