In Australian comedian Lisa-Skye's “love letter to the sex-and-drug-soaked 70s” she tells the tale of Melbourne hedonism in the 1970s star-crossed hippy lovers Bunny and Mad Dog. She weaves in and out of time as she compares the life of her characters and her own isolated childhood in the 1990s, with nods to Neighbours and Phil Collins, and the help of a projector.
The story is sweetly nostalgic, but just not that interesting and when the final twist comes it's difficult to be surprised or bothered.
She has a warm manner and is vibrant and super-enthusiastic. With her green skirt, green eyeshadow, green glitter and green hair, she is keen to inform us how mad and wacky she is, with stories of promiscuity and hallucinogens, and the corresponding conflict with conformity and adult life. In fact if we do not notice the wackiness of what she is saying, she repeats words in a whisper just to emphasise how out there she is. This doesn’t really pay off and, although she talks to the small audience a lot, there is not a great deal of connection. The links between her tale and the tale of Bunny and Mad Dog are sometimes a little awkward.
There are some nice images, including a pleasing impression of a passively stoned dog, and her summary of the 70s as Bryan Ferry singing to a plate of Steak Diane. The story is sweetly nostalgic, but just not that interesting, and when the final twist comes it's difficult to be surprised or bothered. Lisa-Skye promises a crazed comedy ride into the heart of excess, but she barely glances the outskirts of insanity. Her vehicle is her hindrance; her words falling short of seeing the sensational in the surrealism or the meaning in the madness.
