Circus
By Ken Fanning                                           Black Flamingo, The Pleasure Garden   February 10th

It’s fitting that Starman, a one man show that attempts to communicate to us the fundamental mystery of the universe, is a glorious mess.

Ken Fanning isn’t so much an identifiable personality as he is an avatar for conflicting ideas and emotions; multiple personality disorder, illustrated with flesh and blood vitality and immediacy. Given that he had painfully limited resources, his act was nobly ambitious. Fortunately, Fanning pulled off this potentially disastrous performance with aplomb.

The first of the aforementioned multiple personalities Fanning inhabits with reckless abandon is that of the archetypal sad clown, Pagliacci. The act consisted of a sobbing man in clown makeup, attempting to amuse with the various gadgets and toys at a clown’s disposal, but only clumsily self harming in the process, adding to the continued sobs an occasional pathetic yelp of pain. During his pitiful endeavours, an electronic voice droned continuously on a loop, “I give much of my time to people who don’t care whether I’m alive or dead.” I’ll leave it to you to figure out the statements Fanning is making of artistry; it was as subtle as a cartoon mallet to be sure, but there’s no denying this act twisted some primordial nerve: Fanning wanted us to empathise with the plight of the struggling artist.

Not ten minutes later, Fanning became the egoist who was tired of being given the “piddly shit” to play with in front of meagre crowds; he’s an artiste, goddammit – he’s performed at a bunch of shows you’ve never heard of. It was all played for laughs, obviously, but I found it interesting that this satire of the artist followed very closely the sad clown act. It was as if Fanning was continually keeping us on our toes, always reminding us that if he contradicts himself, very well then.

The physical parts of the act, the acrobatics and faux clumsy physical comedy, were part of the throrough line of contradiction that ran through this show. He’s playing the part of the hapless and clumsy fool, but only a person of tremendous athletic grace could pull off these feats without injuring themselves, and Fanning didn’t injure himself.

If you’re prepared to be challenged emotionally and intellectually by a man who ends his performance by spouting existentialism while parading in a giant cardboard star, I can’t recommend Starman enough.

Starman runs from Thursday the 12th of February to Sunday the 15th. Tickets are available via the Fringe World Guide here.