Solo clown comedy from Spanish funnylady Paula Valluerca.
Some language fun with mixed success, mostly Valluerca's clown timing at the audience's expense. Wiles and unladylike antics put to good use. Low brow physical humour, but with a kind face.
Up close audience participation. Strange noises, repetition. A joyful visual number with the gymnast's ribbon. Absurdist fun: a mini Basque lesson, some guitar strumming, mime. Play without much of a plot for serious adults.
Valluerca gathers some audience questions down and queries: "Who am I?" She doesn't have much of answer beyond: "Does it matter, when I can do [thing] and live right here and now?" Some of the audience questions were good, but were effectively ignored.
Despite all the detours and the puzzling parts, I found myself smiling like a deranged person ten minutes into the show, keen to see what was to come up next. There's a wonderful warmth to Valluerca's silliness.
Harmless rainy day fun in the intimate basement space of Black Medicine, the cafe on the corner of Nicholson Street, across the road from the poetic R. L. Stevenson sign.