SUSAN EVANS: AMUSE-BOUCHE
I’ve done a fair amount of prattling on of late about festivals and fringe festivals, and some of what I have said may have come across as being somewhat elitist, dismissive even. Forgive me for that, nothing could be further from my intentions.
I am a huge fan of the opportunities that a fringe festival can provide for emerging talent and over the years I have witnessed some genuine talent, some of which was recognised and has created successful futures for those involved. Drama, improv, music, comedy, circus… so much to see and, so little time. Forgive me and my fellow reviewers across all sectors of the media for those shows that we missed.
This year I saw less but what I saw was pretty amazing, only a few shows that I genuinely disliked but many that were really impressive.
And that is where I found myself on a bank holiday Monday, down in the studio space at Komedia to watch an hour long performance by Susan Evans. Susan is a poet, a performer, an artist and a self declared foodie and Amuse Bouche is her fringe show. I had no idea what to expect. I have attended, read at and even hosted spoken word events over the years. I have enjoyed some and absolutely hated others. I admire the energy and bravery of those who get up and read, but sometimes… well let’s not go there. So I arrived with a sense of trepidation, can Susan dish it up (she likes a pun I discovered) and she certainly can.
This was proper story telling, a life of wild abandon applied to her love life and her cooking. She’s a bubbling cauldron of fun, a giggling schoolgirl in a woman’s body. It’s a rambling and tangential yarn that swerves between the comic and the comically disasterous. And whilst food is the warp of this show the weft is about love, loves lost, loves found and loves wasted.
Evans can pen a clever poem, witty rhymes, tricksy metre and no shortage of comedy along the way. But there is sadness there two, hints of remorse, moments of self reprimand and naughty references to friends and family that will make some of them blush.
She delivers the whole with a smile, sometimes a wry smile and sometimes a blush, but there’s nothing salacious here, saucy perhaps, but you could take your mum along and your granny, maybe not the kids, not if you don’t want to spend some time explaining things to innocent minds.
The performance is slightly shambolic, a trait she owns up to, but she is almost word perfect delivering her poems and stories, some quite long. I particularly liked the tiny poems, little bombshells of wit and wisdom dropped seamlessly into a cleverly composed whole.
This is the sort of joyously funny event that makes fringe worthwhile, it’s not silly but not worthy either, it’s just a slice of fun and very much a reflection of the spirit of our city by the sea.
Andrew Kay
26 May
Brighton Fringe @ Komedia
Rating:
