Roll up, roll up, cabaret fans. Joe Black is here to transport this eager, baying audience from the main room at Komedia Brighton, to a basement bar in the backstreets of Berlin, and beyond. Welcome to Kleines Kabarett.
Our host takes to the stage in dominant fashion, treating the audience to a song or two to start off proceedings. His singing oozes dark indulgence, creating a real sense of atmosphere. The scene is set.
First up is Ezme Pump, serving 60s icon dog/diva, complete with attempted-genital-licking attitude. She summons a lead, which she proffers to the audience. But who is leading who, here? After the interval, Pump returns to the stage with be-tasselled butt cheeks to ‘pump it’, asthma style. A little too much of both sets are floor-based, which makes it difficult to see, but the ideas are fun and playful. Pump is charismatic and her infectious energy really gets the audience engaged.
We’re also joined by the ‘public universal friend’ – The Puf. Their entrance is simply to die for, and so clever. As the set unfolds, we see the meta gamification of a crisis, live on stage. The little details are so carefully considered here. When there are laughs, they are big ones – The Puf definitely receives the accolade for best punchline of the night. But there are moments that feel a little overworked, and the audience react accordingly. If the library is open, we’d nudge The Puf to think just a little less, and lean in on the unknown a little more. Something truly special awaits with a little more spontaneity.
When Black returns to the stage between acts, he picks up one of the many dice littering the stage and starts flinging them gleefully at the audience – a gift, if you will. A glass smashes, the audience roar.
In the second half, The Puf returns to lip sync, Leona Lewis style. Who could have expected the physical embodiment of a children’s party pinata, holding back the floodgates of a dark inner secret? This idea is beautifully unique and so funny – belly laughs all-round.
Have you ever felt confusingly aroused by a velvet table lamp? This reviewer has. Enter Kheski Kobler. Serving surreal, German, expressionist burlesque, this act takes household furnishings to a hot new level. Complete with orgasm on-demand and a pear-scented, post-coital pee break. This set is impossibly original, and quite possibly the funniest burlesque this reviewer has ever seen.
After the break, Kheski cascades on stage with traditional glamour – could this be a ‘normal’ act at this most abnormal of nights? No, we soon realise they are being controlled by a sassy AI, calling them out for too much padding and instructing their movements – resulting in an array of increasingly deranged facial expressions. This bit is injected with whip-smart wit and a knowing eye. Glorious.
In a shift in tone, Arran Shurvinton takes to the stage to lip sync swathed in reams of organza. Their set is vulnerable, raw and ever-so-gorgeous. Siren of the undead meets evocative emo. Performance art at its most vivid. Black returns to the stage, laughing wryly, ‘When the last act came on, I thought to myself, you won’t be laughing now.’
Ahead of their Soho Theatre run, what a treat to see Ozzy Algar in their natural habitat. They stumble on stage with a style of pseudo-confusion, getting the audience on-board with their character, Pet, the last washerwoman on the Isle of Wight, immediately. Algar has always been the most accomplished storyteller, but what’s particularly delightful to see here is just how funny they are, and how naturally it comes across. The stage-time from a highly acclaimed Edinburgh run has given Algar an extra shine on that unquantifiable star quality that you can only be born with, you just can’t fake. Nobody can keep their eyes off them as they enter the crowd, instructing an audience member on-stage to sing to great success. Later, Algar returns to sing themself, this time in starlet style, an absolute 1920S icon. Washerwoman coat cast aside, whatever they touch turns to gold. The audience absolutely adore them.
Amidst other sections of the show, there’s a costume competition that hits a slightly uncomfortable note after an interaction with an audience member, despite the best of intentions. The competition itself feels somewhat unnecessary. There are so many incredible performers, it almost takes those viewing out of bubble. Are we really in Brighton, Berlin, or instead an otherworldly elsewhere? It has to be said, involving the audience in this way gives a nod to what are quite clearly avid followers of the night. There are so many people dressed up, and it really is testament to the community that Black has created here. It’s lovely to see. It’s also the friendliest, most immersive atmosphere that this reviewer has ever experienced in the main room at Komedia. Black is an accomplished, delightfully outrageous host with an enviable eye for curating a truly engaging line-up. The pay-off is impressive.
Bravo to Black, and all who sail in his ship. Kleines Kabarett is a triumph. We want more.
Reviewed on 30 October 2025.
