Telly. Bread and Roses Theatre.

The challenge with absurdist comedy is that many people do not find it funny. Laughing at the sheer weirdness of a situation is not for everyone. Something about the randomness of the punchlines, the illogicality of unfolding events, and the sheer surrealism can chafe.

In his cautionary morality tale, Telly, writer and performer James Huxtable addresses the challenge through fringe stand-up, mime, and physical theatre loosely wrapped around an absurd storyline (essentially, it is about a man putting a television in a bin).  The message, concealed amidst tangents, riffs, asides, non-sequiturs, digressions, and even a dream sequence, is that “it’s not all it’s cracked up to be, being a criminal”. Better in its later, darker moments, Telly benefits from Huxtable’s manifest charm, likeability, and ability to deliver a gag.

The unnamed protagonist lives a law-abiding life with a best friend named Eden (voiced by Emily Serdahl) and a housemate named Nathaniel. Though he struggles with finding purpose or meaning in a meaningless world, the closest he gets to crime is password sharing on Netflix and an affection for John Grisham novels.

But then opportunity tempts. Next door, but one leaves their front door open. The man enters. It is empty save for a TV. It winks at him. He winks back. He does not need another telly, but he takes it anyway. The neighbours return, followed by the police, leaving the man trapped between conflicting forces and desires. His black and white striped shirt symbolises the clash of moral opposites here: the lawbreaker versus the law-abiding citizen. We get Stealers Wheel’s Stuck In The Middle With You on repeat as the show opens to emphasise the point.

Who knew getting rid of a purloined fifty-inch Samsung could be so stressful? Telly’s themes are standard absurdist fare: loneliness, alienation, and the pointlessness and arbitrariness of life. On the way to the TV recycling centre, we get diversions (though, per absurdum, they may be events repeating endlessly).  Anticipate a Raymond Chandler-style bearded detective, a striptease, and riffs on shelf warfare with flatmates, TV wrestling, the difficulty of getting served in pubs, and nights in dodgy clubs drinking “liquid Rohypnol laced with Blue Curacao”.

Mostly, the comedy is low-level-chuckle in place of laugh-out-loud-guffaw, but Grace Malone’s comic movement work impresses. Sam Macgregor’s energetic direction and imaginative lighting add momentum to what might otherwise threaten to be an overlong 70 minutes. Huxtable’s exaggerated body language and malleable facial expressions evoke Mr Bean minus the infantile innocence. There is sadness here, too and a reminder that redemption can come from something as simple as a hug from your mum.

Writer:   James Huxtable

Director:   Sam Macgregor