Creator: Red Biscuit Theatre
Funny, clever and subversive, Little Town Blue charts the course of three stereotypical US teens – jock; nerd; dumbass – on a knockabout tour of scenarios from classic American flicks and comedy TV, roughly stitched together into a madcap story set around a troubled midwestern every-town.
The five-strong Red Biscuit team started making physical comedy 10 years ago, so there’s a real sense of flow to the show, like watching five best mates on a chaotic night out, running with each other’s ideas, joshing and shoving. But their effortlessness disguises the huge amount of work that’s evidently gone into building this detailed piece, inspired by everything from Citizen Kane to The Simpsons, by way of Night of the Living Dead, the Blues Brothers, Scooby Doo, The Rocky Horror Show, Psycho and the entire frat house output of National Lampoon.
The troupe loves a trope: the action begins with a classic road-trip cut short, sending the fresh-out-of-high-school trio on their nightmare detour to the scary backwater of Little Town Blue. Shades are donned in Blues Brothers homage, and when a saviour swings by at a tense moment, he’s wrapped in the Stars and Stripes, and the whole cast cries “It’s the Vietnam cliché!” There’s always a fresh perspective or twist to elevate the imitation.
The gags and one-liners are unfailingly hilarious, but most of the big laughs are triggered by canny characterisation. The cast is vast, conjured up with hats, coats, props and wild gesticulation, whirling around the central trio of hapless innocents like a Mighty Boosh maelstrom. Endlessly innovative and resourceful, the Biscuits play every part to the hilt.
Craig Unadkat is suitably arrogant and back-slapping as the baseball-jacketed alpha Brad: “I can’t wait to leave town and never look back. Showering together to save water… and no goddam liberals telling us what to do!” He drives gentle speccy Sven (Murray Burgess) and Baldrick-level dimwit Chad (Theo Moore, displaying impressive handstand technique in an upright bed) to irresponsible action, like the backpack-laden dead-of-night forest trek with wildly swinging torches and uplit scary masks. It’s straight out of The Blair Witch Project, but done to the tune of the Sugarplum Fairy, far more amusing.
Theodore Vaudrey is a Rich Fulcheresque presence as Mayor Flint, rousing the crowd from his plinth like Citizen Kane, spouting political nonsense – “God bless each and every one of you, mah fellow Little Town Blue-ins… hog roast… toffee apples…” – and twerking triumphantly.
Room-filling Nathan Charles is Norman Bates’ landlady mother to a T, with wiry grey wig, maniacal laughter and crazed warnings: “Ha ha ha here’s your key… stay in your room and lock the door!” He also plays a black-hooded plot enabler, offering explanatory guidance and wholly inappropriate comments in the context of a men’s urinal.
Vaudrey and Charles take on almost all the peripheral roles, and when they aren’t enough, one or two of Chad, Brad or Sven ducks out and are replaced by hand-held masks on sticks, which are sometimes funnier than the actors themselves, just by nodding.
Burgess decouples from Sven to become a memorably pretentious cop, delivering drivel at gunpoint – “The people of this town are like chess pieces on the board of democracy!” – and gesturing at his buddy, always dead on the floor.
The plot is totally trippy and surprisingly satisfying, with an ending that wittily distorts the usual hero cycle/journey. There’s a certain amount of satire, but it’s sly and subtle, and the horror’s more comedic than visceral. You can take anyone to this show, and they’ll love it.
Despite being pitched against towering odds – the tail end of a tube strike, a gorgeously sunny day favouring pub garden-sitting, a controversial American-themed war, and their own depressing flyer (which, with its gas mask and hazmat suit implies a post-nuke docudrama rather than riotous fun) – the tight-knit and infectiously good-humoured Biscuits succeed in packing out the Camden People’s Theatre and keeping the entire audience cackling along for a full hour.
Runs until 25 April 2026 and then at Brighton Fringe
