Writer: Cian Jordan & Allie O’Rourke
Director: Cian Jordan & Allie O’Rourke
It’s difficult to not find A Good Room charming, at the very least, from the beginning – assembling outside the Annesley House pub on North Strand, you’re met by Cian Jordan’s nan (Emily Bradley), who escorts you to her house for the performance, bantering and chatting for the duration. Inside, she gives you a rundown of the house rules, and then you’re wedged into the upstairs room – Jordan’s actual bedroom – for the performance.
It would be harsh to say that this is where it begins to go downhill, because Jordan and Allie O’Rourke are likeable performers with genuine chemistry, and an eagerness that is never any less than endearing. But it feels like the innovation ceased once the location for the show had been decided; the performance itself was ragged and unfocussed, with no real narrative structure, and an insufficient number of laughs. At least some of this can be explained by the fact that I saw it on its first day, and it is likely that elements will improve throughout its run.
Jordan and O’Rourke are comedians, and they speak in a slightly frantic way about comedy in Dublin – the culture, the venues, Covid, and their experiences onstage. But it’s never fully explained why, and nor is it clear where it’s going. There are good jokes, and a great one about the Gaza Strip (I know, honestly), but the energy is too manic to settle into one place or theme. The audience interaction and participation is fun, and though this may depend on the individuals who are picked, the way in which it’s done means that you don’t have to be a comedy insider to get the joke.
Bradley is the stand-out performer, quick on her feet and clearly having a huge amount of fun. Jordan and O’Rourke carry more of the show, but perhaps within this some of their magic is lost – they may be excellent comedians, but straddling theatre and comedy felt like a stretch. The denouement was indicative of this – after a generally light-hearted hour, O’Rourke began speaking intensely about her experiences as a trans woman on the comedy scene, and various instances of abuse that she and her friends have suffered. Without wanting to doubt the validity and reality of these occurrences – I’m certain that they happened and were traumatic – this decision is a strange one, coming as it does out of nowhere, and not attempting comedy. This is a serious point, but closing on it makes little narrative or comedic sense, and the decision to do so was indicative of a broader lack of coherence.
Runs Until 22nd September 2024.
The Review's Hub Score
Hectic
