Directed by Tom Costello

Review by Marina Funcasta

theSpace@SurgeonsHall: Tickets

A presence from the minute we hear the opening voice recording telling us to switch off our ‘cell phones’; with a character like Brett’s, he definitely doesn’t need anyone else with him on stage. Highly-wired, this fifty-minute monologue flies past, boasting an enthusiasm that, though at times can feel uncontainable, fills the room with infectious energy levels.

Marking his territory early on, he creates for himself a podium where, pacing up and down in manic restlessness, Brett emerges as untouchable. This is interesting given how open he is about his weaknesses; dressed in humour, discussions of rejections (both emotional and professional) are unapologetically confronted. Disarming in its frankness, Brett’s humour can feel discordant at first; both defensive and self-deprecating, what Brett wants his laughter to be can easily be misconstrued, especially with a largely UK-based audience. The safety he has always attached to laughter presupposes an open and equally as self-deprecating audience. And luckily for him, this was the case. Sharing Hinge horror stories, sexual fantasies, and even profound romantic disappointments, the audience could be felt audibly gasping, awing and booing at all the right sections. Bidding for connection, Brett certainly found it this night, even if while alone on stage.

To be sure, the show builds upon itself seamlessly. Directed by Tom Costello, Brett’s neurotic pacing calms down by the second half, as the speed through which he runs through his cue cards relaxes into the section on intimacy. Unafraid to call upon the tech person to ‘dim the lights’, even in his instructions, Brett is endearing; uttering ‘thank you gorge’ in response to the lighting shift, Brett secures for himself a warming chuckle, emphasising how his charming turns of phrase have well and truly won us over.

Admittedly, Brett’s character does seem to mutate throughout the hour. Upon first impression, he is intensely forthcoming, hitting the ground running at five hundred miles an hour. The more we get to know him, however, the alter ego dissolves and moulds into a painfully self-aware gay man in his thirties just trying to cope with life’s challenges. At the structural and emotional heart of the play, we see Brett fall on the floor, surrounded by his disordered cue cards. Existential at best, nihilistic at worst, Brett picks himself up using humour and several gulps of water. Visibly sweating, this is no easy feat, and it is in these moments that Brett’s show achieves an emotive capacity I did not know comedy to have. Ending with a nod to his relationships with his family, there is a clear hierarchy as to what he cares for most, and though it takes a few wrong turns, it is reassuring to hear his story told through the vehicle of comedy. Far from tragic, Brett Epstein: Alone on Stage is brimming with a certain cynical joie de vivre, reminding us to keep calm and giggle on.

---