Lloyd’s comedy act incorporates all that is fantastically hilarious about nerd obsessions. The collector’s items, the conventions and the tension between various fandoms are all analysed here as Lloyd puts himself on trial (in his own mind no less) to determine whether his obsession with Dr. Who has caused more grief or joy in his life.

Although the show got off to a rather tedious start, the laughs that followed were well worth the dry opening. One truly exceptional element of the show is that Lloyd provides us with insight into his personal journey as a performer, and not just as a Dr. Who fan. His stories about teaching at Dandenong elicit raucous laughter and are truly funny. Another outstanding element is Lloyd himself, as he performs with infectious enthusiasm and energy throughout the entire show, exemplifying a persona that you simply can’t help but like.

The screen centered behind Lloyd frequently adds another dimension to the comedy, beyond the words of the performance, by projecting photographs of Lloyd engaging in various nerdy activities. There is also great use of music, sound effects, voice-over and audience participation that positions the performance as an all-round experience rather than a simple stand-up comedy routine.

No doubt Dr. Who fans are the ones who will elicit the most out of this performance, but it is well-worth a night out for anyone who has known obsession. Having never watched a Dr. Who episode, I was concerned that my enjoyment of the show would be affected. However, with the exception of a few Dr. related jokes that went over my head, I still laughed along with the rest of the audience and managed to have a nerdy good time.

Lloyd ultimately manages to give gratification to nerds everywhere, looking at obsessions in a broader context, and coming to the realisation that they can in fact benefit us. After all, Lloyd’s own obsession has helped him stage a highly impressive and ridiculously entertaining comedy show.

Whilst the performance is quirky and entertaining at times, it lacks any clear direction or narrative, and therefore fails to allow its audience to become truly immersed within the world of the show. The intended-to-be humorous opening where the lead singer sings about how it ‘sucks’ to be her, falls rather flat, and a later piece featuring two singing mermaids in fat suits consequently meets the same fate.

What the show excels in providing is stunning aerial acrobatics which, when paired with the haunting piano and violin melodies of Charody’s score, succeeds in creating quite a moving and poignant performance. The atmospheric lighting also contributes to the beauty created in such segments, and the minimal set design does not detract from the performance.

Another definite highlight is the elaborate costumes that help in creating a sense of the characters featured in the performance, despite the lack of existing plot. The costume worn by violinist Sonja Schebeck is particularly memorable and separates her from the other performers as a quirky and eccentric marionette doll that you can’t seem to keep your eyes off. In fact it is Schebeck’s performance which truly shines through, thanks to her exquisite musical talent on the violin, and her successful creation of a character that exudes an incomparable stage presence. The rest of the all female cast is certainly talented too, seemingly never hitting a wrong note in their singing or acrobatics.

Overall, ‘The Carnival’ feels as though it could benefit from the removal of segments where acrobatics are not the focus. The more ‘whacky’ aspects of the performance seem unnecessary and tend to cheapen the production in a way that fails to entertain or amuse. One reviewer has accurately described the show as a cross between Tim Burton and operas by George Bizet, but those who aren’t a fan of the bizarre elements are likely to deem the show, simply, too weird.