Being terrorised at 4pm has never been so fun
Some shows just don’t benefit from being described, and Candy Gigi’s is one of them. All I can say is that if you even the slightest open mind about comedy, then let this 40-minute cold shower of utter lunacy into your afternoon.
Some “give us a joke”-style lads turned up for the last five minutes. Had they been there from the start, they wouldn’t have stayed for the first five. Because with this show, you’re either in, or you’re out. The meagre six people who were there from the start were most certainly in, as they gradually acclimatised to Candy, who terrorises the room with her inescapable anguish and hysteria.
Candy is clad in mucky wedding dress and a face full of make-up, and what she brings to proceedings – apart from props, so many props – is absolute commitment to her weird, messy, veg-heavy set-pieces. It is undermined on occasions, by a little bit of corpsing, and a few self-conscious asides such as “what would my mum think of me?” when really this is an act that works best when it’s bullet-proof. Why let light in on magic? Likewise the references to it being “a bit weird and not very mainstream” are 100% unnecessary and really dilute the effect.
So yes you can pick holes, but I and the rest of the tiny audience had a whale of a time. So go and add to the numbers, because this is precisely the sort of madness you get nowhere else but the Fringe.
Review written by Paul Fleckney