“Sexy and frightening”
Billed as “not a stand-up” this show features a lot of the genre’s tropes: standing up, dad jokes, shaggy dog stories, aloneness and personal revelation. However, to call it simply thus would be like calling the River Thames a stream or calling Titus Andronicus a bit violent.
Both of the above references are particularly pertinent: the mudflats of Hammersmith slurp away wetly outside the Riverside Studios and plenty of slorping goes on inside the venue as well (theatrically speaking, you pervert). Ted Walliker writes and performs as Tony Foot, an odd and lonely child, then man, who follows a thuggish dirt-eating best friend Mikey on a madcap adventure of murder, drugs, very little sex (pointedly) and eventual cannibalism.
The story rolls and rollicks, propelled by Walliker’s focused accents and physicality, a beautiful, poetic and scathingly cruel script. “Make your life sexy and frightening” is the description of cocaine usage but could be applied to the vibe as a whole. Manic energy throughout that can be both funny and unsettling. If you’ve ever read any John Niven or Will Self, you’ll know the tone: brutal, satirical, wallowing in the bestial pain of humanity and the perverse titterings that can bring. The references are all very posh boy – hatred of the serving class, white shirts, banking jobs and cocaine – although whether that is Tony Foot or Walliker we will never know.
Lev Govorovski and Walliker direct, along with every other creative role from lighting/sound design (a big task) to costume (lovely navy velvet suit stripping to basically see-through tighty-whities) and set (nothing, and then a car and a whole forest). I warn against such creative inbreeding and despite both’s prestigious talent some choices are inconsistent. For example, no set at first, with Walliker leaping around the stage creating everything from a toilet cubicle to a taxicab, makes sense – but then to raise the curtain and have a real Mercedes and misty wood is an abrupt gear shift, despite the obvious need for leaf litter to delve his hands into.
Circling around a culmination, the piece is a little too long, and repeats itself in its hovering attempt to land effectively. When it careers toward the ground, smashing in a explosion of blood, bones and feelings, it reminds you of the breadth and diversity of queer experience. I personally am sick to death of the standard boy-loves-unavailable-boy-who-becomes-available-preferably-in-the-rain narrative – just in time for pride month, let’s flip the script, shall we? Gay love? I prefer gay gore! Wait, I have another one – love is love? More like blood is blood! Ok, I think I’m done.
Slice tickets, if you dare, click HERE!