Review: Sam Simmons @ Brisbane Festival Spiegeltent

Ominous music, eerie smoke, a space suit, and …….. an old El Paso taco kit?

This is how a Sunday night at the Speigletent begun in which I asked myself  ”what the?” more times than I can remember.  A word of warning: don’t go to a Sam Simmons show expecting a linear narrative. Go prepared to be taken around the globe in a whirlwind of tacos, spacesuits and masturbation… masturbation you ask? Yes this actually occurred right in front of my no longer innocent eyes. I had expected Simmons show to display no rhyme nor reason and he went above and beyond.

It starts with a series of rules for the gig – that’s rules for the audience, by the way, all of which are absurd and left of field. The crowd absorbs them well, rolling around in their seats and not necessarily because the gags are witty, but Simmons’ physicality and delivery are perfect. He even makes plain colours funny! The colour yellow a definite no-no in the afore mentioned rules.
His vitriolic rants at the sound men and the lovely-looking lady in the front row were a riot. As was the employ of Jack, the guy from the third row who took on a starring role and ended up not just being sprayed by soda water but also being part of a faux wank and having a taco smashed against his chest, something I do not think poor Jack had expected from the night.  Simmons regular sidekicks, Jorje the talking llama, also makes and appearance alongside the pine cone caricatures. Like I said; neither rhyme nor reason. It is brilliant.

Simmons knows that his show is warped. He continually asks the audience if we are following the narrative. Narrative? Am I missing something here? The only reoccurring element to the show is a pine cone and Old El Paso taco kit. He chuckles to himself and seems to revel in being fantastically weird. Judging by the crowd’s response his enthusiasm is contagious.

Whilst he is a total wacko the whole show is quite polished and staged; there’s little improvisation amongst the music cues and female voice overs (except shouting at one audience member heading to the bar ‘where the f*** are you GOING’). That’s fine, it’s works, until, well it doesn’t work and his mike cuts out during the emotive finale which includes a memorable Starbucks rant, who it turns out are real c*#t’s  according to Sam. He is one angry man and, by God, I’m yet to see a funnier tantrum. He holds the show together with unbridled venom for the tecchies!!  “Don’t touch me!!!” he bellows as the poor sound guy nervously hands him a new mike before a taco-smashing curtain-closing ensues leaving many mouths agape. A great Sunday arvo hangover cure.