(4 / 5)

It’s clear after seeing all their productions so far, Awkward Productions have conceived and executed well their own take and blueprint for comedy, queer theatre. Just like Diana: The Untold and Untrue Story and Gwyneth Goes Skiing, The Fit Prince […] approaches the story with gusto, humour and using a range of theatrical techniques.

Pulling upon hallmark Christmas-style movies that have recently blown up amongst the Millennial and Gen Z generations (and often starring stars of Millennial’s youth) Awkward Productions have taken these cheesy and purposefully fanciful tales and approached with a loving satire.

The Fit Prince […] features the story of a Swedonian Prince who must marry in the next two weeks as the heir after the King has suddenly died. In his quest to find someone to marry, a New York baker is enlisted to come and make the wedding cake, soon becoming close to the Prince where they fall in love with one another. In amongst this, there are plots to overthrow the Prince and random but well conceived plot points, providing endless comedy.

Awkward Productions clearly know they are fast becoming a cult following. References to previous shows, such as a Diana look-a-like in the Queen, a prop from Gwyneth goes Skiing making a guest appearance, they are not only creating new comedy but adding references that only the true followers will know. This provides such smart and hilarious moments that you can’t help but guttural laugh at.

The staging, props and multimedia used is so professional and well constructed, they effectively set the scenes but also help to support their unique humour and theatrical approach. At the same time, there isn’t any attempt to be “perfect” or serious; our guest stars appear on a screen with dubious backgrounds such as found in a zoom call, a very well made prop cake is carried around but referred to in a moment as “fake”, showing that they by no means take themselves serious and this is entire satire.

As well known by their comedy, a lot of their “support acts” are members of the audience and this brings its own moments of comedy that our main performers and creators, Linus Karp and Joseph Martin (now an official married couple as took place on stage for real this year!) do fantastically to improv on when it doesn’t go to plan or further add to their comedy performances.

And during this, they have fully lent into their puppetry skills; Diana and Gwyneth both had a bit of this but these have been brought back as subtle nods and as supporting cast, with a newbie amongst the group; the Orphanage’s matron, played by Martin in a cloak and an amazingly constructed head and arms, bringing a almost Roald Dahl-esque figure that is purposefully imposing and so well performed.

The Fit Prince (who gets switched on the square in the frosty castle the night before (insert public holiday here)), is a totally bonkers, highly comedic and ridiculous (in all the best ways) production, continuing Awkward Productions firm stomp of unique theatre on the scene.

(3 / 5)

“Brainsluts”, a term apparently used for those taking part in a clinical trial, titles this production of a similar context.

Following five clinical trial participants and a Doctor, we watch as their relationships build and change from strangers to something else over 5 Sunday sessions. Love blossoms and dissipates, vulnerability is shared and friendships are formed.

This production is a very simple set up. We encounter the same room with a set up like a waiting room meets clinical room with furniture and props to support. Times when the fourth wall is broken for the Doctor to speak directly to us is simply set up through freeze frames and a lighting change. It is all effective and works well for this straight forward piece of writing.

It is a humorous narrative, with very different and, at times, stereotyped characters, their interactions provide their own comedy with the help of the well constructed narrative. Their interactions with one another feel genuine and flow easily, with no trips, stumbles or lack of confidence. We utterly believe each character and their relationships with one another. Comedy is also found in awkward moments constructed and feels very “British” in its approach to these. Generally, the story is very well constructed and gives the sense of a sit com on stage.

Brainsluts is an enjoyable and well written production, with moments of well constructed comedy and plot points, all executed very well by the performers.

(3 / 5)

Confronted with different staging, a Dexter-style plastic back drop, old chunky TVs and lots of wires, we have entered Dear Annie, I Hate You – NOT a play about a severe dislike of Annie the musical, but about something much deeper.

Based on Sam Ipema’s true life, Dear Annie […] is the story of Ipema’s diagnosis of a brain aneurysm at 20. We live through her short life up to that moment, her family relationships and then post diagnosis and how she copes with this change. With the high potential of life and personality changing consequences should she have surgery, she begins to question what is more important, life or death, in many different guises.

The production does well to squeeze so much content into such a short space of time. We quickly and easily get a sense of Ipema, her life and her family, with interjections on the TV from her family to make it rounded. These screens are connected to tubes that light up and escape their connection, depending on the points being explored at the time. However, a lot of the narrative accompanying this becomes technical and scientific and, while very interesting and important to explaining her brain and how the impact of the aneurysm, sometimes it just lost me and I felt a little out of the loop of truly understanding.

Ipema is high energy, utilising the space and hopping from podium to podium and up the stairs, banishing the idea of any impediment the aneurysm should have. Unfortunately, sometimes her run up the stairs felt out of place and unnecessary, not really adding much to the story. The energy level continues high when Annie comes in; the physical embodiment of the aneurysm. It is said a lot that some like to put a name or visualise what they are coping with as a person or thing, and this is clearly how Ipema coped with this. Unfortunately, Annie is often the voice of reason, urging for truth, and through her high octane presence in the space being purposefully annoying, she often takes a higher road to Ipema, blurring the lines of good and bad.

The play ends up with Ipema thanking Annie and this feels a little confusing and misplaced. It doesn’t feel like there is a revelation that is needed, with a simply fine life pre-Annie, and it feels as if there was a need for an ending and a story moral that couldn’t quite be found. But, we are dealing with a true story and one critic shouldn’t be the judge of how one copes with something like this and what brings comfort.

Dear Annie, I Hate You is well executed in its production values and an enjoyable retelling of a true experience. However, the narrative and dramatic licences taken felt slightly out of place and unfulfilled.

(4 / 5)

We’re all familiar with tales of Knights, pulling swords from stones, their round tables, lots of chainmail. But have you heard about the one with the horse?

Madeleine Rowe brings back their one person production of Knight, Knight; an outlandish and hilarious tale of a Knight, his quest to become King, marry, have an heir and fight for his kingdom. However, the crux of this tale is – he’s in love with his horse.

Bizarre as it sounds, Rowe has created not only an obscenely funny narrative but conducts it with precision. Using very purposeful and calculated miming, movement and audience participation, they are able to evoke consistent giggling from us with just how bizarre but hilarious this performance is.

We only find out at the end that Rowe isn’t British at all. With this very posh and English accent, they fool us but over exaggerate and blur words, very “toff” like and this is endlessly funny.

They engage with us throughout and does brilliantly with improv on our ludicrous suggestions and off-script guidance. Their main source of comedy is repeated gestures, simple yet effective moments, such as trying and failing for a long time to scabbard their sword, or a moment of evading the crown being put on their head with surprising flexibility. This simple slapstick is so ridiculous, we only find this more and more funny as time goes on. It almost becomes overly hysterical and we love it.

Knight, Knight is a totally bonkers and fantastically executed clown show, with nothing outlandish but well constructed slapstick and repeated comedy.

(3 / 5)

Think High School Musical meets Twilight and throw in a queer tilt to and I may present to you, Count Dykula.

With high production values, Count Dykula is the story of a loner lesbian vampire, who seeks to set the record straight for vampires everywhere and fight against the attempt to add a fluffy exterior around the monster/human dynamic, changing horror culture forever.

This threat comes from Scare University, run by a stereotypical lesbian vampire headteacher who fully leans into this with large breasts and a siren-esque facade before biting your neck. Throughout the Count’s journey, she comes across many monsters, merged with Americanised stereotypes, such as werewolf football jocks and zombie cheerleaders. These provide endless comedy and are well performed throughout, with the help of changed costumes in quick succession and great character acting.

If this description fools you however, it is not one for the children. Some of the comedy is sought in queer references, lewd and sexualised jokes and this twist on the story makes it full of laughter but also very camp and adult. We laugh at the clever stereotype merging and the content that comes with it.

The production value themselves are perfection; with well constructed costumes, props and staging, it already feels like a firmly planted production. But this doesn’t let you miss out on jokes of reduced staging at fringe; audience members are brought up to act as a mirror or a wall or help with a wrestling ring rope and this interaction adds yet another layer to the comedy.

However, for me the merging of a school aesthetic with something else felt a little twee. While the production is clearly well invested in, from the fantastic professional performances and writing, all the way down to the costumes and props, it felt like something that had been done before and, while entirely enjoyable, it felt a bit of an overused approach. They do well to combat this with satirical pop culture referencing but it still feels a little over-done.

Count Dykula is a very enjoyable and well constructed production, with clever merging of different genres and themes, it is sadly something that feels a little over saturated in theatre.