The show (for lack of a better word) opens with director Jake Rix taking the stage to list the trigger warnings: mental health, trauma, misogyny, flashing lights, audience participation, nudity, trauma, violence, food and most importantly of all, Freud. What follows is a chaotic 75 minutes of singing, stand-up and physical comedy that refuses to be constrained by any of the laws of the stage or common sense.
It’s also one of the keenest insights into the modern mental health system, where everything and everyone has a box to be filed away into. Performer/whirlwind Sammy Trotman wrote parts of the piece while in a psychiatric hospital, sticking the skits together to create a ramshackle and chaotic whole. “We understand what you’re going through”, say the experts, the bystanders to the card crash. “Fuck off”, says Sammy.
Some sections are deeply uncomfortable to watch, with long rants about topics that many go their whole lives without thinking about. The chaos helps a lot, with the audience feeling like they can gasp and even laugh at the absurdity: the disco lights and fourth-wall breaks acting as digestifs to the meaty monologues on personality disorders and parental lust.
Sammy’s performance is arresting, and no matter your thoughts on the content you can’t help but stare. The point of sanity being contextual is hammered home several times, and what better place to display that from within the safe confines of the stage?
You could call her hell, or call her quiet, but that’s not her name. Subtly chaotic genius though, that has a nice ring to it. There are very few shows as brave as this out there, and you owe it to yourself to see it if you feel up to the challenge.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ (4*)
Gifted tickets in return for an honest review
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