Imagine this scenario. You’re a clown in early-medieval south of France, and you’re about to make fun of everything and everyone. Before you start, it’s important to draw a circle of chalk around you – as symbolic (and, hopefully, actual) protection from accusations of heresy.
The magic of Enrico Touché’s show, one taking in mime, clowning, and joyous slapstick, is that it extends this circle around the entire venue, and welcomes the audience to join him in casting off the shackles of self-consciousness to access one’s inner stupid.
In Hot Knees, self-styled “international man of business” Touché cuts a beautifully preposterous figure, armed with a no-nonsense suit, no-nonsense briefcase, and plenty-of-nonsense hats. He resembles a cross between Charlie Chaplin and Duck Soup-era Groucho Marx, with painted face and perfectly groomed, plastic hair, replete with perfect plastic kiss curl.
With dysfunctional tie and mysterious squeaks, Touché moves hilariously and (intentionally) incompetently across the uneven tent floor. He is frequently either entangled or attempting to detangle himself from various things, and the whole performance escalates to a beautiful crescendo of physical nonsense.
But this show isn’t just about the performer. There’s an early blurring of the fourth wall, as various audience members are invited on stage to bop up and down in sympatico rhythm. It’s silly, it’s mildly awkward, and it’s absolutely glorious.
We’re in a weird era of stand-up comedy, in which edgelords get Netflix specials, and the likes of Gervais and Carr encourage the fear that live audiences are going to get picked on, punched down upon, and ultimately humiliated. As Touché takes a seat and enjoys the nonsense he’s created, the line between punter and performer has been thoroughly blurred, and the message is out: we’re in a thoroughly safe and welcoming space, and though everything might go wrong, absolutely nothing will go wrong.
Punters are duly reassured, which is handy, because they’re going to be called on a *lot* over the course of this show. Hot Knees, as a title, is a misdirection, of sorts, though Touché’s trousers don’t last the hour. The true themes are love, dreams, and fulfillment. This is explored through a series of brilliant physical set pieces, a few songs, and a bunch of silly, delightful props.
This mixed-ages crowd – including some disturbingly precocious middle class children – are transformed into burlesque dancers, trombonists, cocktail shakers, 90s singers, and even chefs working on the recipe of love. They are often handed beautifully malfunctioning props, which adds to the sense of chaos. Touché is setting us all up to fail, in a space in which failure and success lose all meaning.
In improvised comedy, we talk a lot about mirroring as a performance technique, and this is something Touché relies on a lot. What’s beautiful and faintly mind-boggling is how quickly and effortlessly the audience participants catch on, and free themselves from the shackles of adult life as they’re encouraged to play, be stupid, and be laughed at. The entire show is entirely joyous. By the end, as the audience moves from mere devices to active, vocal participants, and rockets pepper the performer, the show takes that beautiful leap from the nonsense to the moving and strangely profound.
Reviewed on 9th May.
