Writers: Zoe Wohlfeld and Jack Grossman
Director: Jack Grossman
Hilarious, maniacal and childishly charming, New York clown Zoe Wohlfeld dazzles as a deranged mourner in this highly amusing parody of pompous, overwrought drama, co-written with director Jack Grossman and selected for the London Clown Festival 2026.
Both graduated, like Sacha Baron Cohen and Roberto Benigni, from illustrious clown college École Philippe Gaulier, whose students are relentlessly encouraged to be playful, spontaneous, fully audience-aware, ridiculous in their own particular ways, and never, ever dull.
Gaulier also advocates projecting the inner child, and that becomes the most obvious facet on display here as Wohlfeld and Grossman’s seemingly straightforward, part-scripted premise unfolds. Despite taking on a serious role – presiding over the funeral of beloved childhood dog Winkles – Wohlfeld increasingly acts like a tantrumming toddler, wheedling and co-opting the audience into extreme acts of grief.
To the maudlin strains of Amazing Grace the show begins with a slide show of wry crayon cartoons depicting the arc of Wohlfeld’s relationship with her constant canine companion. There’s hill hiking, lilo lounging and gorging on birthday party fare… then Wohlfeld brings home her college boyfriend, and things go catastrophically wrong for the dear departed doggie, consigned onstage to a large cardboard box with a scribbled name label for most of the piece.
Wohlfeld is hilarious from the moment she sweeps onstage in her long, black Victorian dress, face in an insane rictus of sadness, holding a suspiciously steady candle. She remains riotously funny throughout in a supremely confident, energetic performance that never falters, even when her frequent audience interactions don’t quite go to plan.
She works the crowd with heat-seeking vigour until even the most reluctant acquiesce and even upstage her. Having needled one frequently-addressed target about his social responsibility – “So, what have you done for the community lately?” – he wins widespread applause by snapping back, “I did pro bono in the family court last week.”
Another front row-er is lured into a long-running gag: Wohlfeld develops a clingy, quasi-familial relationship with him, and by the end, they’re sharing quiet moments of genuine pathos that serve to accentuate the comedy.
The physicality of her performance, especially facial, is impressive. Wohlfeld gurns, grimaces and pouts in tortured approximations of grief and sustaining them makes them acutely funny. She also dances frenetically, with the wobbly intensity of a pro bellydancer and crashes about both onstage and off: “Owww… this place is a death trap… if I weren’t grieving I would sue your asses to the ground.”
There’s extreme neediness on show too; Wohlman repeatedly falls to the floor to gain sympathy, and is often openly demanding: “Will you go get me a glass of Pee Noh Greeg Ee Oh?” (particularly funny when we’re all three steep flights up from the bar).
The scripted material is deftly threaded throughout the piece – audience interaction is steered to chime with it – and there are cleverly-crafted callbacks in the filmic finale. The use of props and tech is well-judged and executed by Jack Grossman, whose sound effect timing is impeccable.
Wohlfeld’s petulant, disingenuous childishness, requiring both bravery and intelligence, puts her on a par with experts in the field such as Morwenna Banks and Morgana Robinson. She’s one of those rare, unique, highly-developed comedic talents that doesn’t just elicit laughter from people, but also fills them with joy and sends them on their way with a brighter perspective on the world.
The level of audience interaction isn’t perhaps for the terminally shy, or those triggered by the use of (water) pistols, but Wohlfeld is so open, and so much fun to be around, that timid types may find themselves revelling in the fear-conquering process. The point is that Wohlfeld makes clowns of the entire crowd, and everyone is much better off for that liberating experience. Seek out her inspired buffoonery as soon as you have the chance.
Reviewed on 6 June 2026 and then at Edinburgh Fringe
