“I didn’t know there’d be steps”.
Above a pub on a sunny Saturday afternoon, Isabelle Glinn presents a hilarious, gentle, and oddly moving hour about figure skating, childhood expectations, and the importance of finding your own path, freezing or otherwise.
The ice can be unforgiving, particularly when you’re 3 years old, as this character is when we see them compete and fail for the first time. Glinn is hilariously believable in her portrayal of a very tiny person trying to do what is expected of them, despite not quite understanding why they should be doing it. This is a handy shorthand for the whole show, and possibly for existence in general.
Glinn, an accomplished actor and improviser, is armed with a collection ludicrous facial expressions. These serve her well, whether she’s dancing halfheartedly to Vanilla Ice, flirting catastrophically with another ice dancer, or just shuddering back and forth across the (unfortunately be-stepped) stage on her zamboni.
With song, mime, and masterful clowning, this show is brilliantly engaging throughout, despite Glinn’s character being needy, lost, and spectacularly alone. Non-threatening audience participation brings everyone on board with her journey. One punter’s guess of what a zamboni is (“ice car”) is beautifully succinct; all are invited to give compliments despite not really knowing what it is they have seen, and all do so charmingly. Everyone here is rooting for her, which is the genius of character comedy, done well – you really care about the outcome, even though (spoilers) Glinn isn’t really a 12 year old girl awkwardly showing her butt to the coolest boy on the skate team.
There’s a wonderful change of mood and tone when we meet Glinn’s coach, in enormous coat, who has a brilliant musical moment of their own. There is, though, still an melancholy present in even the silliest moments. Child stars, and the questionable conceit of making children compete, loom over this whole show. This reviewer would love to have met the parents.
One of the reasons this show works so well is the repetition. Each flashback, song, or sad and lonely plough across the ice is funnier than the last – even though, often, Glinn’s character really isn’t doing too well. Feelings, dreams, free will – all seem encased in the ice. There is a profound limbo to this figure skater, forever trapped in her glitzy performance outfit, whether bemoaning her dance partner leaving her for Disney In Ice or shuffling back across her motorised ice-smoothing cart for the umpteenth time. Who will be the Simba to her Nala, and does her character even need one?
Despite a slightly less-than-satisfying finale, this is a beautiful show, which successfully showcases the performer’s many talents, as well as tight, confident writing, with laughs throughout despite the underlying sadness.
Reviewed on 9th May
