Victoria Melody is a social magpie, a collector of sorts. She writes about Britain’s enthusiasts, embeds herself in their communities, and learns the tricks of their trade. Past professions include: dog handler, northern soul dancer, beauty queen, and pigeon fancier. She worked as a funeral director once, we’re told. It inspired her last fringe show Ugly Chief about her terminally ill father. The experience was stressful, she says, so this year’s she’s going to do something easier, less theatrical, and a bit more mainstream: Why not stand-up comedy?
Only there’s one problem with Victoria’s plan: she's not very good at stand-up and has the first five minutes to prove it. Her comedy course teacher – an ever-present devil with a critic’s tongue who sits on her shoulder – interjects with exasperation: “Rule of three!” “Set up, punchline!” “Follow the formulas!” Squeeze out those laughs per minute, that’s the goal… It’s not that the teacher’s wrong, it’s just that her student likes to dance to her own tune. In fact she does this at the end of the show.
Victoria Melody. She reassures us its her real name, anticipating our disbelief. But to be honest, it’s still difficult to tell what’s a bit and what’s not. Even when photos appear of Victoria crouching by a basset hound at Crufts (4th place, competition got stuck in traffic), I find it hard to process that someone has so much to give. It's beautiful and the show’s all the more funny for treading this line of uncertainty, a discovery the fledgling stand-up makes while touring the open mic circuit. Laughter comes in unexpected places and not always intentionally. Head Set attempts to bottle this effect, and manages to varying degrees of success, as it charts the progress of a stand-up routine in its infancy.
As it turns out, Victoria’s father was misdiagnosed. Ugly Chief was a adaption of the funeral his daughter had planned. Good news is rarely this funny, and it's the perfect punchline to a show about death. Her latest show is full of these kinds of hairpin turns. You never really know what she’s going to come out with next, and I’m not sure she always does either. This sense of unpredictability permeates the show - and it deepens as we get into the gonzo journalism about open mic culture. The result is a frenetic piece of hybrid theatre about amateur comedy, self-discovery, and overcoming limitation.
Melody happily follows her nose at the expense of narrative convenience, if not entirely at the convenience of the audience either, eventually settling into a story the performer never intended to tell but is perfectly suited to. Without giving too much away, stand-up is only the beginning.
Head Set is an oddly touching show, full of personality. It's also a long walk, as they say in the biz. I think that’s what comedians call a protracted set-up (perhaps Melody can tell me), but the pay-off is worth it if you stick around.
0 Comments