The shelves of improv troupe Beansville’s Video Store are lined with an infinite collection of possible movies encased within a selection of VHS tapes, each representing a different film genre. Even by improv standards, Video Store starts with wide-open possibilities: we don’t know if we’re about to witness a Western, a rom-com, a period drama, or a gritty film noir.
On review night, the genre roulette landed on horror, and we had the twisted pleasure of watching Tim, Mills, Katie, Ed, and Colin bring to life their improvised movie: The Ceiling of Slime. The title of the movie is the sole prompt given by the audience, and just like that, the “tape” is popped in, “rewound,” and the madness begins.
The structure of Video Store is one of its biggest strengths. The show starts with a middle scene, then jumps to the finale, before finally rewinding to show us the beginning. Both scenes are funny in isolation, but when they return to them with added context, the punchlines land even harder. It is a clever narrative device that not only creates comical reveals but also gives the performers a subtle goal to work toward, guiding the story without restricting it.
Recurring bits – like uncomfortable family dinners or bureaucratic nonsense at the estate agency – help anchor the improv and keep the plot moving. Scenes rarely drag, as the performers are quick to respond to the action on stage with fresh ideas.
The troupe also uses the chosen genre to guide the narrative, giving every detail introduced a distinctly spooky tone. The story begins with a suspiciously cheap house listed at just £2,000, a price so low, something sinister must surely be afoot. They lean into classic genre tropes, drawing a sharp contrast between the mundane human world and the spooky, fantastical realm that lies closer than first thought.
Everyday dynamics like work and family life—depicted through characters like estate agent Mallory (Katie), her colleague Steve (Tim), and her brother and mother (Ed and Mills)—are juxtaposed with the bizarre presence of the slime monster duo (Colin and Tim). This clash between the ordinary and the grotesque fuels much of the show’s comedy, especially in the surreal romance between Colin’s slime monster, also called Mallory, and the human Mallory’s mother.
Ed delivers a standout performance as human Mallory’s overconfident investment banker brother, whose smug bravado becomes one of the show’s comedic highlights. His cheeky nonchalance and eagerness to support the ridiculous whims of others become a consistent source of entertainment. Much of the horror spectacle’s creepiness comes from Colin’s wonderfully awkward portrayal of Mallory the slime monster, whose bizarre social etiquette adds an eerie, and often hilarious, edge to every interaction.
Perhaps the most impressive aspect of Video Store is how neatly the group ties everything together. Characters are drawn quickly, and all manage to develop convincing relationships with one another. There’s an internal logic to the chaos, even when the narrative involves a book made of human skin, haunted property deeds, and romance across species lines.
Published with The Reviews Hub
Rosie Wood 
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