This show is exactly what it is. More accurately, it’s exactly what you’re afraid it might be. Expect very little from the performers, besides the above. Like any good comedy gig, however, in AYMDAAGAAOMSRIARCF56MATLWAVDACC it’s the crowd reaction that really matters.
The crowd at AYMD… were the most enthusiastic Fringe audience I have ever seen. For the full show, walk-outs were traitors, sabateurs were shunned and those who brought the performers offerings of food and booze were heroes.
The gig was defined by a weird football-match-meets-Sunday-communion mentality. Let’s say that the status quo is “a crowd sitting watching the people above doing the stuff that it says in the title.” People are surprisingly conservative. We liked the status quo and enjoyed maintaining it. But anything which genuinely added to the performance or made life easier for the performers was greeted with rapturous applause; when someone brought the gorilla a pint, the cheers could be heard from Princes Street. When someone stole the Viking’s crossword, it was all the Underbelly staff could do to hold back the lynch-mob.
No-one was quite sure what was happening, but whatever it was we sure as hell didn’t want to get in the way. Nobody likes a show-off. The few audience members who were considered to be acting up too much were met with howls of derision; “It’s not your performance!” bayed the mob (ourselves included). That gorilla really rocked that rocking chair and anyone who interrupted his beautiful pendular swing was clearly a prat. I mean, the guy who tried to feed the gorilla a banana clearly had their heart in the right place, but drawing attention to the rubber mask’s inflexibility just wasn’t right. However, one brave audience member was met with real respect. Noticing that the Viking’s shield-cum-crossword-table was beginning to droop (balanced on his knees for the previous 37 minutes), they volunteered as a human support, kneeling down to prop up the precarious tabletop.
The best works of theatre are inexplicable, untransferrable experiences. When people ask you why The Table is just a puppet on a table, or what The Boy With Tape on His Face actually does, the only response is that you had to be there. If you weren’t here, please accept my heartfelt condolences. Next year, I know where you’ll be spending the best fifty-six minutes of your Fringe.
