You’re a Good Man Charlie Brown is a day in the life of Charlie Brown, his sister Sally, friends Schroeder, Lucy and Linus and his adorable beagle Snoopy. Rather than using a traditional narrative, the musical is made up of a series of vignettes and corresponding musical numbers, channeling the unique sense of humour that the original Charles M. Schulz comic strip is known for.

The musical includes all the iconic moments from the strip – Charlie Brown and his quest to be noticed by the Little Red Haired Girl, Snoopy and his efforts to defeat the Red Baron, Lucy and Schroeder’s tête-à-têtes over the piano, Linus and his blanket and poor Sally and her tangled skipping rope.  The six main players are supported by an energetic and lively chorus and a fantastic live band, all wearing matching Charlie Brown tops.

A simple, largely unadorned stage – apart from a red doghouse in the background of course – lets the talent of the main cast shine through. Particular mention must go to those in charge of costume as well, with the cast decked out in cute, colourful and impressively accurate costumes. The group numbers were wonderfully executed, and often brought loud applause from the audience. Keep an eye out for the baseball game number, where the cast play baseball in slow motion while Charlie Brown frets about his pitching ability, and The Book Report, a perfectly executed number involving the whole company and a lot of rabbits.

Watching the young cast perform – Kyle Hall (Charlie Brown), Ben Francis, (Snoopy), Tayla Coad (Sally), Georgia Broomhall (Lucy), Laurence Boxhall (Linus) and Benji Riggs (Schroeder) – you are transported into the world of their unique friendship group, their hopes, their dreams, their fears and their passions. They may not be six years old, but the cast harnesses the spirit and wonder of childhood in their mannerism and in their songs. Hall as Charlie Brown leads the cast capably while Broomhall nails Lucy’s energetic crabbiness, with Riggs and Francis providing some great comic moments. However the standout performances of the night were Coad as Sally and Boxhall as Linus. Their energetic performances and comic timing was spot on, and they totally inhabited the characters.

At 90 minutes, the show’s running time could have been a little shorter, especially as there is no linear storyline. It was also sometimes difficult to hear the leads sing, as the live band tended to overpower their voices. However, these were minor issues in what is overall a fun show.

The best thing about You’re A Good Man Charlie Brown is that it is show is for everyone. As someone who loves the original Peanuts comics, it was great to see some of my favourite moments brought to life with song – but you don’t need to be a fan or know a lot about Peanuts to enjoy the show, and the number of families in the audience attested to the show’s wide appeal.

You know those stickers – the ones that many people adhere to their suburban SUVs that insipidly inform uninterested passers-by about the members of their family? Nikki Britton finds them about as enjoyable as licking shit off the hoof of a goat, and if you’re any kind of self-respecting person you’ll agree. In fact, Britton has rather a talent for critiquing those aspects of life that make you want set yourself on fire, especially when it comes to life goals (or lack thereof).

Britton, who is especially proud of her review of a whopping 4.5 stars in the Advertiser, is a 29-going-on-that-which-shall-not-be-named ‘adult’, whose inner fat kid isn’t going away anytime soon. She’s not afraid to admit that she doesn’t enjoy baby showers, or that she’s overwhelmingly attracted to pale, red-headed Scottish men, or that her greatest talents include playing the air xylophone and executing interpretive dances to Alanis Morrissette.

Britton’s enthusiastic and insightful approach to life is a breath of fresh air, especially to those who may be having existential crises themselves. Finally, here is someone who understands that adulthood may not be all that it’s cracked up to be, and that most of us just want to hide under a blanket until the nasty growing-up monster goes away. Britton is magnificently vulgar and outspoken; but she still manages to succinctly demonstrate her points, even if she does have to check her notes now and again.

But amid all of the hysterically crude wise-cracks about Jesus’s toleration of ejaculation, the undeniably sexual nature of bumpy roads, and any part of the vagina that you care to think of, she drives home a single point: that you shouldn’t give up on your dreams just because you grow up. When people are children they dream of being actors, princesses, and firemen (or in this author’s case, a professional athlete), and when they become older they lose sight of their dreams. They become aware that they should adhere to a certain social ideal, one that will provide financial and emotional stability. But then there are those, like Britton, who achieve the next level of enlightenment and go, ‘Fuck that – I do what I want.’ And that is the underlying message of her show: that life isn’t about doing things because you feel like you’re supposed to. You should do things because you want to.

And if you aren’t going to do what you want in life, then that can only really mean one thing – that you are responsible.

How dull.

‘I can make you German.’ So declares the promotional poster for Paco Erhard’s award-winning stand-up show, 5-Step Guide to Being German. The comic has returned to Adelaide following a stint at last year’s Fringe Festival with the same act and he doesn’t appear to have lost any of his original popularity.

As far as being German goes, the title of the show promises five steps, though we soon discover that this is a publicity-based lie. According to Erhard, it isn’t that simple; in reality it’s closer to eighteen steps (apparently five only makes you Austrian).  But Erhard himself doesn’t exactly embody what many may perceive to be a ‘typical’ German. He lives and works in London, resulting in what he describes as his inimitable Irish-British-South African accent. Even his somewhat frenetic demeanour is in stark contrast to the no-nonsense manner of your average German. But while this show is very much devoted to poking fun at cultural quirks, it also seeks to break down these stereotypes and offer insights into the modern-day German psyche.

Erhard begins the evening with an anecdote on a recent experience in which, to his own disbelief, he attempted to dilute his ‘German-ness’ by claiming to be half-Spanish. This leads into the dominant theme of the next 50 minutes; namely the feelings of guilt and paranoia that come along with being German, largely owing to the country’s murky past. Unsurprisingly, his punch lines are riddled with political incorrectness; from Hitler to The Holocaust, no topic emerges untouched. But if any comedian can successfully tackle such weighty matters with good humour, it’s Erhard. He even quips that the only reason so many German school children are good at maths and science is because they can’t bear to sit through history lessons. He argues that German nationalism as a concept has become more or less redundant; after all, the last two times they tried it, it didn’t work out so well. The only time it proudly reveals itself is during football matches, and even then waving the flag for a little too long following a goal is deemed wholly inappropriate.

Erhard allocates much of his material to explaining why Germans are they way they are. Aided by some quaint homemade maps and diagrams, he treats the audience to a short history lesson on Germany’s uniquely turbulent past. Evidently, it is this profound fear of disorder that has resulted in the archetypically efficient, disciplined German that we are familiar with today. This well-organised disposition has its downsides however; in one of the funniest moments of the night, Erhard presents a scenario in which a German travelling at over 200km/h on the Autobahn will consciously merge into a busy lane – resulting in certain death – rather than cross ‘The Line’ that prevents them from continuing any further, marked out in indelible paint. The German driver is the only person in the world for whom this is a dilemma, he dryly points out. Germany also now has another burden to contend with; that is being one of the most economically prudent countries in the European Union. As Erhard asserts; “Being German is not something you like. It’s something you work on. For the greater good of Greece.”

Because he is based in the UK, much of Erhard’s material examines Anglo-German relations. Within the first five minutes of the show, he finds his ‘token Brit’ in the room, who cops the brunt of many of his don’t-mention-the-war jokes. While most of these aren’t lost on the audience, who can identify relatively well with British culture anyway, it would have been nice to see Erhard adapt his routine to better suit Australian spectators. He manages to take a few jabs at our happy-go-lucky nature early on, but it’s easy to recognise his unfamiliarity with this country. Either way, it’s a minor criticism at most and doesn’t detract from the astuteness of Erhard’s observational humour.

A show like this probably caters best to those already familiar with German culture, but that shouldn’t put off others looking to gain a unique insight into what makes a German tick. Erhard is a wonderfully charismatic performer and he presents an accurate analysis of his home country. You will leave the show with a new found feeling of endearment towards a state that was once the basket case of Europe, but is now managing its past with an air of dignity and good humour. Fittingly, Erhard wraps up the evening on a cheekily optimistic note: ‘Since 1990, for the first time we are finally one unified democratic country, surrounded by friends. And Holland.’

A sense of disorder is almost inevitable in a show about schizophrenia performed by twins. This one follows a character who is as grounded as possible, considering the earth beneath his feet is comprised of suitcases. Rendered despondent in his struggle with writer’s block, he meets his twin, whose temperament is the exact opposite of his. This untameable doppelgänger promises to help him write jokes, but instead leads him on a meandering and nonsensical adventure.

Somehow the puerile plot manages to climax rather poignantly. The realisation strikes that the loutish double is a figment of the other’s imagination. By that point their identities have become so lost that each is confused as to who should write the other out of existence. This, however, follows a complication that uses a three-day canoe ride across the ocean, and a portal through Narnia, as crucial plot devices. The majority of the piece seems to be a realisation of the illogical tales told by over-imaginative children. Deriving humour from nonsense can work, and does work here, to an extent. The plot, however, relies too heavily on some of the weaker lines of this humorous nonsense, which can become tiresome in their juvenility.

These non-sequiturs are excusable, but had the performances been stronger they could have been enjoyable. The players sporadically stuttered their lines and announced everything directly to the audience. The physical comedy was laden with stumbles that didn’t seem written in and many a hesitant glance. All this created a sense that the actors were under-rehearsed, and this soured the rest of the show. What could have been playful fun came to seem lazily written and carelessly performed.

Thankfully though, Conjoined is not just acted. One of the most entertaining elements of the show is its comedic variety. Sock puppetry, mime and stand-up all feature prominently. It is a bizarre new vaudeville. Although the nonsensical humour may not make for the best plot, it definitely does work in the form of sock theatre subplots and long stand-up routines about jazz drummers. It is during these sections that you benefit from relaxing into the piece and simply being able to laugh.

Conjoined may meander, but in the course of its meanderings it finds some moments of inventive humour. The under rehearsed delivery does detract from the show, but, with a bit of polish on the part of its actor/puppeteer/comedians, and a taste for jocular nonsense on the part of its audience, Conjoined could make for a very entertaining night at the Fringe.

Turning a traditional rom-com inside out, Sidekicks is the story of Mac (Dan Ilic) and CB (Emily Rose Brennan), a man and a woman constantly relegated to the sidelines in the lives of their major player ‘best friends’, Hunter and Robin.

The play opens with a scene familiar to anyone who has seen a rom-com: the 11^th hour dramatic romantic confessional. Except it’s not the leading man down on one knee in front of his leading lady. It’s CB getting ready to get down on one knee in front of her friend Robin, to try and convince her she is in love with Hunter . . . until Hunter’s sidekick Mac decides to intervene. Over the course of the next 70 minutes, CB and Mac retrace the steps of Robin and Hunter’s romance from their point of view and discover some home truths about themselves.

Sidekicks is a fantastic play brought to life by two fantastic actors, Dan Ilic and Emily Rose Brennan. They glide from one scene to the next and navigate the hilarious and poignant moments of the script with ease under the direction of Louise Alston – you will laugh out loud and possibly even shed a tear. Ilic and Brennan also play a host of supporting characters, donning different accessories: a couple of terrible wigs, a bright pink tie and pair of black glasses. You will find yourself empathising with characters who usually only serve as comic foils to the leading man or lady.

Writer Stephen Vagg must take much of the credit for his role in creating two wonderful ‘supporting’ characters. His script is very well written, with a lot of fast and funny dialogue. He references pop culture, poking fun at the conventions of the typical rom-com. But the script also takes more serious turns, as the two sidekicks try to figure out if there is more to their life than always playing second fiddle. These scenes, though not as fun as the ones where CB and Mac trade witty quips, give the play more credibility, as we get to know and understand why CB and Mac play the supporting roles that they do in Robin and Hunter’s lives. The simple stage and setting allow us to focus on the play itself, while subtle lighting changes help the audience to keep track of what is the present moment, what is flashback and what is self-reflection.

The biggest drawback to Sidekicks is the venue: the upper floor of The Stag Hotel. Sometimes the noise from the bar below adds a festive edge to the show, particularly in the scenes that take place at a bar. However, while the space is quite small and the audience does get very close to the action, there were moments (usually the most important ones) when the noise overpowered the actors.

Nonetheless, don’t let these slight drawbacks detract from what is a fantastic show – just make sure you get there early and snag a seat right at the front. Sidekicks is for those 18 years and up, from 20-somethings looking for love to 50-somethings in search of a good love story and all those in between. If this is any indication of what the supporting characters have been getting up to in rom-coms all these years, we’ve all been missing out.

Sidekicks is showing at The Stag Hotel, corner of Rundle St and East Tce, from 8^th – 17^th March.

‘I wish I could be as classy as that!’ an audience member exclaims as she enters the theatre. The cast of the play – Iddon Jones, Paul Shelford, Gabeen Khan and Andy Peart – sit in a circle, facing outwards. They laugh and chatter to themselves, watching the audience file in. They wear identical grey suits, white shirts, red ties and brown shoes. Their hair is slick and their smiles dazzling.

The play begins.

The actors narrate the story of Yuri, an immigrant, who is caught up in a whirlwind adventure led by native Englishman, Patrick. Remarkably, the story is performed with only four actors and three chairs. Without any set or other props, the actors use mime, accents, and impeccable physicality to bring to life a diverse range of characters. The actors are perfectly synchronised, except where Peart provides laughs by continuing just that little bit too long. Their gestures remind the audience that they are all Yuri, struggling to fit in to a culture unlike his own, trying on different personalities and demeanours.

The stand-out, perhaps, is Iddon Jones’ Allison, the girlfriend of Patrick and Yuri’s seductress. Jones’ exaggerated performance of the only female character is hilarious. He also shares the role of Yuri with Gabeen Khan, who has the lion’s share of Yuri’s lines. Patrick is predominately performed by Paul Shelford, whose blond hair and mastery of a superficial toffee-nosed English demeanour perfectly fits the character.

Poor Andy Peart receives all the worst roles. At the very start of the play, Shelford cuts off an eager Peart, stopping him from contributing to the narrative. He is cast as the old woman in the park and the skinhead in the bar. This injustice becomes apparent to all, however, when the swift and fluent swapping of characters is compromised. Jones, Shelford and Khan stop the play and wait for Peart to reluctantly take the shape of, first, a cherub statue precariously balanced upon a stool, then a Labrador adoringly stroked by its owner, and finally, decorative antlers in a hall. Whilst the other actors take turns at playing Patrick, Yuri, and a myriad of other characters, Peart provides a little comic relief. Though the whole play is laugh-out-loud funny, Peart’s hilarious interludes have nothing to do with the dark subject matter.

The themes of the play are unmistakable. Yuri, an educated and talented surgeon with only a basic grasp of English, immigrates to London, seeking a better life. He has prospects: a job interview at a large hospital. A miscommunication in a park leads him to Patrick – an apparently sympathetic and generous man. From the first introduction, the audience is clued in to his hypocrisy and racist stereotyping. But it can be passed off as simple naivety. The character manages to assume that Yuri is unskilled and stupid, call him a refugee and terrorist, and encourage a skin-head to beat him up. And that’s only the beginning.

The conflict between Patrick and his idea of Yuri culminates with their falling out. Patrick exclaims, ‘All I’ve done . . . The tolerance!’ Yuri is then kidnapped by skinheads, escapes through a rather unlikely sequence of events, and tracks Patrick down to exact his revenge. The play ends happily with Yuri landing a cleaning job at the hospital and Patrick going about his life as before.

The driving plot may be an unbelievable farce, but the ideas that underpin it are serious. Ben Woolf’s script is a work of genius. It balances extreme racism and social injustice with a hilarious four-person ensemble. Although the audience anticipates the explosion of hate hidden behind an act of tolerance, the wait is thoroughly enjoyable.

Angry Young Man runs until March 17 at The Studio, Holden Street Theatres.

Best of British, hosted by UK-born, now Melbourne-based comedian Dan Willis, somehow manages to hit all the right notes. Willis, who has a solo show of his own, proclaims Best of British to be the best value show at the Fringe: four acts in 60 minutes – five if you count the host. At only $20 a ticket, that works out to $4 per comedian. You can’t even get a beer that cheap.

The acts change from night to night, as comedians exit and enter the Fringe cycle. The only constant is the affable presence of Dan Willis, who takes advantage of the small crowd by going around and shaking hands with every audience member before the show begins.

Out on the balcony above P.J. O’Brien’s Bar, four comedians then prepare to do battle with the crowd, the elements and the noisy street below. As a fire engine roars down East Terrace, opening act Eddie Bannon declares: “That’s the worst heckle I’ve ever had!”

Following Bannon this particular night is English comedian Juliet Meyers, who is self-reportedly jetlagged, having just flown in from England, but delivers an animated and hilarious series of anecdotes nonetheless. After Meyers comes Neil Sinclair, with his seemingly neverending series of one-liner puns. Some jokes seem to fly over the heads of the audience, but all in all it makes for an entertaining and unique departure from the earlier comics.

One of the great things about a showcase night like Best of British is that, if one of the acts isn’t making you laugh, all you have to do is wait it out for 10 or 12 minutes and someone else will be up on stage. Although, with the line-ups Willis seems capable of pulling together, it’s probably more likely that instead of hating one of the acts, you might discover your new favourite comic. Short sets also force the comedians to condense their routines, pushing all of their best jokes together and cutting out any rambling filler. Willis really wasn’t kidding when he said this show was the best value show at the Fringe.

The headlining act (if you can call it headlining when no-one knows who’s on the bill) is ‘as seen on TV’ Adelaide comedian Mickey D – a last-minute replacement, Willis admits, for a mystery British comedian who had pulled out. It’s an oddly localised way end to a show entitled Best of British, but it’s all a light-hearted affair, and no-one walks away feeling like they haven’t had a good laugh. In the end, that is what we paid for, right?

You walk off Arcade Lane and into a dim, yellow-lit hallway, lined with white birdcages and fairy lights. The Birdcage is the ‘circus hub’ for the Adelaide Fringe Festival and After Dark Theatre’s ‘Another Point of View’ is one of its featured shows.

It’s a story of two girls, friends, who go about their daily life in solitude until one day a phone rings and offers them a glimpse of the outside world.

This quirky, offbeat circus show won’t appeal to everyone, but it does have two elegant acrobatic performers.

On the small stage is an old suitcase and phone, a small basin with matching cups and toothbrushes, and a cardboard-covered television. An aerial hoop and sheet are hanging from the ceiling; hinting at the circus performance we are about to see.

Blackness. Then yellow lighting draws attention to the ringing phone. Out pops a hand from the suitcase followed by “Hello?” – the only word used throughout the fifty-minute performance.

As Annette Hanshaw’s ‘I Wanna Be Loved by You’ plays, two different sets of hands and legs come out from the suitcase, playfully patting it. Then two people emerge, wearing frilly petticoats.

These two friends have a way of doing things a little differently. Like brushing their teeth while bending over backwards or eating their cereal with their toes holding the spoon. They also love to watch talkies in between their acrobatic performances.

Together the girls are stunning on the aerial hoop, demonstrating both flexibility and amazing symmetry, matching each other with every twist and turn. At one point they are both upside down on the same hoop, with one hanging from the other, a feat which earns them a round of applause.

The highlight of the night is the performance on the tissu: circus speak for a suspended sheet. One of the girls twists and turns, using the material for support when suddenly she drops and holds her arms out, hanging in mid-air like an angel.

What’s great about this performance, acrobatic skills aside, is how the two friends connect with each other without even speaking. We feel their happiness, anger, and loneliness without them even uttering a word. Lighting is used well, drawing attention to certain moments in the play and highlighting the characters’ emotions.

The girls’ comical miming also makes this a great show for children who will appreciate their antics. The pace is slow in some moments of the performance, but the acrobatics keep the audience engaged.

‘Another Point of View’ is a peculiar and entertaining circus performance, best enjoyed in the company of friends.

A young nun, Agnes, is accused of murdering her newborn baby. Psychiatrist Dr. Martha Livingstone is appointed by the court to assess her sanity before the trial. When obsession takes over, Martha refuses to stop until she uncovers the truth about the murder. All the while, the Mother Superior attempts to shield Agnes from the persistent psychiatrist.

What develops is a compelling clash between science and religion. The women use vastly different beliefs in their attempts to help Agnes. Martha believes in facing the truth and the dark secrets locked away in Agnes’ subconscious. Mother Superior shelters Agnes, insisting that ignorance and an unyielding faith in God will lead to happiness. Regardless of what you believe, Agnes of God will have you questioning the power of faith and love.

Who killed the baby? Who is the father? Was Agnes seduced or raped – or worse, was she the seductress? What happened in her past? Is she pure and innocent, or is she psychotic? Each truth revealed only leads to more questions.

The play builds in intensity from the opening image; the three women’s shadows projected onto a screen. The stage is a white, sterile psychiatrist’s office which contrasts perfectly with the venue: an old church with an exposed beam roof – the intersection of old and new.

With the raised ceiling and brilliant acoustics, the vocals are simply astounding. The actors’ voices are commanding, particularly the opposing authoritative tones of Kathy Fisher as Mother Superior and Nicole Rutty as Dr. Martha Livingstone.  In contrast, Michaela Burger’s singing is breathtaking and her agonised screams are penetrating.  The performance hinges on its sound. It begins with a voiceover, explaining the court case and alleged crime. Throughout the play, the actors give chilling monologues, revealing layer after layer of deception, lies, and hidden crimes.

Tony Assness’ costume design, however, gives us insight into the characters before a word is spoken. Agnes is dressed in all white, symbolising her purity and innocence, whereas Martha and Mother Superior wear mostly grey, with splashes of black and white.

Whilst the characters are doubtful of everything – including who they are, what they believe in – the actors are truly remarkable. Martha, Mother Superior and Agnes are complex characters that challenge and enlighten their audience. There is no standout performance; every actor is enthralling. Together, they handle the suspense and tough subject matter wonderfully. The play itself, written by John Pielmeier, does not judge or condemn, despite the imminent court case. It simply observes the intersection of two forms of thought, and how each can be both damaging and healing.

Agnes of God is a remarkable piece of theatre. Despite being written in 1979, the themes of science, religion, faith, love, and blame are very much relevant to a modern audience.  It will leave you pondering longer after the lights come up.

Agnes of God runs until March 9 at The Arch, Holden Street Theatres.

Fifty minutes is all it takes for Insomnia Cat Came to Stay to draw you into a world where time cannot be measured: the world of the sleepless. However, despite the constant agony of the condition, you find yourself entertained, enthralled, and even grateful to be exposed to the mind of an insomniac in such a breath-taking and cerebral manner.

Insomnia Cat is not simply a play about insomnia, either stylistically or thematically. It is a powerful blend of poetry, performance, music and animation that offers insight into the restless human condition. It is a one-woman show, but it would not have been as poignant, or even possible, without the perfect contributions of its offstage team. Writer Fleur Kilpatrick has shaped her own experience with the condition into what is not merely a stream of consciousness, but a flood. Her words never deviate from the insomniac’s unattainable obsession with sleep, as it comes to encompass all of life. Whether they take the form of sardonic references to pop-culture, considerations of neuroscience, or fevered, hallucinatory reminiscences, the crazed thoughts build with moving rhythm to crescendos of screaming or song, before sudden silences.

It would take a stellar performer to do justice to all the poetry and pain of the piece, and Joanna Sutton is just that. She is haunting from the start. Draped all in white, bound to the stage by the sleepless sheets that are her prison, she embodies a very human struggle with the unattainable. Her spoken, sometimes shouted delivery is hilarious in places, and always deeply moving. Her singing is powerful (she is a graduate of the Elder School of Music’s classical singing program), but unashamed to break with the strain of her character’s suffering. However, perhaps the most powerful element of her performance is her physicality. She is tied to one spot on centre stage and has her character struggle against this binding with the ferocious intensity of the unjustly incarcerated. With only the use of her upper body and her voice, she gives a performance to rival a full ensemble.

Set designer Sarah Walker ensures that the Sutton must fight so as to avoid disappearing into the set in the same way that an insomniac must constantly fight to avoid disappearing into sleepless oblivion. It is a simple set – Sutton in white bound by a white sheet, before a white projector screen – but it is aesthetically pleasing and thematically crucial. The simplicity of the set also allows animator Thomas Russel to superimpose the insomniac’s visions onto the insomniac herself. His lo-fi animations are what truly make Insomnia Cat a brilliant multimedia show. The hallucinogenic visuals emphasise the words and actions of the insomniac. Like the set design, the animations are simple but work with the other elements of the piece in an intricate and powerful way.

The music is the final element of the intense multimedia piece that is Insomnia Cat. Sutton sings lyrics by such notables as Tom Waits and the Rolling Stones. Her vocals are backed by a soundtrack composed and arranged by Roderick Cairns and mixed by Steven J Hearne. These guitar-driven arrangements capture a similar desolation to that in the work of the Velvet Underground, albeit in a more polished way. In fact, the show as a whole is comparable to Andy Warhol’s Exploding Plastic Inevitable. It is an assault of media on a cerebral level capturing the rapture of restless minds. In this sense, and in its own right, the soundtrack fits perfectly.

Director Danny Delahunty and his team can be extremely proud of the skilful combination of media that is Insomnia Cat. Every part works together to convey, ultimately, a beautiful chaos. Though credit must go to the team, it is still a one-woman show. Tuxedo Cat’s blue room is the perfect venue for it, the limited seating capacity adding to the intimacy already inherent in such a piece, and making Insomnia Cat Came to Stay a very personal, very intense experience.

Insomnia Cat Came to Stay is on every night at 9.45, until the 3rd of March, at the blue room – Tuxedo Cat.