An uneven hour of musical comedy with some confusing interludes.
With character comedy, it’s important to get one’s persona’s status and power relationship with the audience confirmed quickly. Here, Tasmin Sarkany plays Amelia Crotchet, a “semi-failed” classical musician in a double-act with her violin.
There’s a lot going on, and Sarkany is a confident performer and a great violinist. But the audience are confused: is this a comedy show, a lecture about Bach, or a musical recital? Is this Sarkany, an actual person, bumbling their way through a gig, or Crotchet, a character, intentionally bumbling their way through a gig?
The many puns were met with sighs and groans rather than laughs, and Sarkany’s attempts at audience interaction are met with shyness but also uncertainty.
An audience that is admonished by an act for not being enthusiastic enough – though very much consistent, I would guess, with the Crotchet character’s prissy nature – is never going to respond more enthusiastically if they’re unclear about the artifice levels.
A lot of the show is jingle-based, with Crotchet playing pop-classical stings which are then put into silly context, as though the musical snippets are emojis in some kind of teenage message exchange.
We learn that this is a double act in more ways than one – Crotchet and the violin are in a relationship together. This is a fun idea that isn’t fully explored due to Sarkany’s attempt, to paraphrase Arthur Matthews’ Father Ted, to steer clear of the whole area of being in love with the violin.
This is a shame, as a lot of this hour relies on the comic timing between the two, and some out-and-out preposterousness would have helped elevate and clarify the show.
People are just about getting the hang of things when Sarkany leaves the stage for an “interval”, during which two other comedians by turns come on and do ten minute sets.
If anything, this confuses the audience still further, as we’re treated to a down-to-earth set about charm and midlands rivalry from Nina Semple then some comic, character storytelling from Alexy Walexy.
In classic Simpsons episode The Itchy & Scratchy & Poochie Show, the introduction of a new character Poochie upsets the dynamic, and our cartoon heroes never reach the promised excitement of the fireworks factory.
Here, our metaphorical fireworks factory is Sarkany actually playing some Bach.
And when this moment arrives, and she speaks passionately about the magic of music written hundreds of years ago still having the power to move human spirits, before playing beautifully to a rapt room, it is as sublime as a thousand fireworks factories all exploding as one. It is, though, a shame it took us such a time to get here.
Reviewed on 16th May
