Lara Ricote: Inkling comedy review – Self-reflective silliness
Full to the brim with unexpected anecdotes and wacky storytelling, Lara Ricote’s set is both free-wheeling and philosophical
.jpg)
There’s a type of laughter that can’t be one way. It’s the cry-giggles that happen when someone who knows you well catches your eye in an awkward moment; the stories that get so ludicrous you can’t breathe. Somehow, hard-of-hearing Mexican American dancer and comedian Lara Ricote creates that kind of conspiratorial intimacy with a room full of strangers. And she delivers it a bit like a surrealist/attractive McLovin from Superbad (with experience in musicals).
Inkling is technically stand-up but it feels like theatre: Ricote darts around the stage, using props and moments of slapstick as she regales us with her stories. A hostile encounter with a man in a museum and the mysteries of the human experience feature heavily as she jumps wildly between gibberish and self-referential character comedy. She pokes fun at introspection, stand-up itself and, frequently, the audience’s desperate attempts to keep up, mirroring her own difficulties with understanding the world.
The detours are wild, ranging from rodent-infested underwear on the streets of New York to split tongues and Nicki Minaj covers. It’s clever: multi-layered, metaphorical and philosophically ambitious, while also being silly, rude and feisty. There’s barely time to laugh before the next idea arrives, but it’s ok; she only expects you to understand 65 percent of what she says. If this show doesn’t make you miss your best mate, you probably need to get a new one.
Lara Ricote: Inkling, Monkey Barrel, until 30 August, 5.40pm; picture: Pip.