If Joz Norris is no longer a comedian, then why is he still very good at making people laugh? You see, at some point in recent history, after an unfortunate experience with a non-sausage roll, the boy became a man, the stand-up became a magician, and Blink, a high-energy slice of maniacal comedy, was born.
A sense of super-charged playfulness is evident throughout the show
The magician who stands in front of the audience is the very personification of Dunning-Kruger; all mouth and literally no trousers, with a booming voice which has a hint of Matt Berry about it. He’s loud, pompous, and hilariously inept, displaying a sense of super-charged playfulness which is evident throughout the show.
The audience is promised magic, not only mind-reading tricks but also mind control leading up to the promised finale, an act of staggering power which will see the whole audience blink simultaneously. It’s a ludicrous premise from the start and it takes no time to get derailed, allowing the absurdity to run rampant on stage.
The pace is often frantic, almost but never quite to the point of being too much. Although some of the sections, like a mind reading device picking out the thoughts of the front row, feel a little overused and haphazard, Norris is never far from pulling it back. He’s a good performer, injecting madcap physicality into the act.
All the best magicians have good assistants, and Norris is no different. He has able support in silliness from the mostly off-stage Ben Target who is only slightly less ludicrous in his approach to the show. He’s a good addition to the action, providing a bit of extra narrative impetus and variation to an act which may not be quite the Arts Council’s idea of high culture, but is very entertaining nonetheless.
