Sitting downstairs in the bar with my friend, before going up to Nick Sun’s show, we became slowly conscious of a resonant sound which, I suddenly realised, had been going on for several minutes. My friend asked what it was and I suggested that it sounded like a didgeridoo plugged into a Moog synthesizer. On reflection I now realise that this Mooged didg continued constantly for a good ten minutes before we entered the room, at which point it became apparent that there were muffled words being enunciated.
It was Nick Sun all along, lying behind a couch, under a blanket, with a microphone. If this sounds too weird for you, then Nick is too weird for you. Because, honestly, this was the most conventional part of this show. I have discussed with other Groggy Squirrel reviewers in the past how difficult it is to review Nick, because it’s almost impossible to get down on the page exactly why his antics are so wonderfully hilarious. He is reminiscent of an Andy Kauffman type character, not in style or content, but in the sence of misunderstood genius (although I’m sure he’ll loathe me for saying so).
He is not exactly anti comedy or comedy anarchy because underneath his actions there is a structure and method. As he slowly destroys the whole seating area during the course of the show, rolling around on the now flattened fold up chairs in a replication of both agony and ecstasy, he creates meaning, without suggesting what that meaning should, or even could, be.
“I just wanna get on Rove”, says Nick about three quarters of the way into this show, bemoaning the lack of stardom he so obviously rejects by choice. If you are unprepared to take a leap of faith on this comedian you are unlikely to walk out of this show feeling anything but angry. If your prepared to be open to his unclassifiable mixture of hate and joy then this will be the most memorable and hilarious experience you with have this festival. Thus far, it is certainly mine.
View the comedy festival website for bookings and further details