This marks the third hour that Rosie Nicholls and Sullivan Brown have brought to the Fringe, and the second I've had the pleasure of reviewing.
Two years ago, I wrote, "I believe [they] will definitely be ones to watch over the next few years", and it's thrilling to see how they've evolved their performance since then. Individual sketches have been replaced with a series of vignettes that, initially, seem disconnected, but gradually reveal themselves to be part of a broader narrative.
This evolution exhibits the creative ambition of the duo, who continue to channel that 'League of Gentlemen' dark comedy vibe, pushing boundaries to create a more bizarre and high-concept piece. However, evolution often comes with complexity, and some of the gags in the show feel as though they were sacrificed for narrative coherence, toned down to fit a story that struggles under its own weight.
The overarching narrative is a blend of alien invasion and a meteorological event, a theme I thought had been exhausted in every conceivable way – but Grubby Little Mitts found a fresh, grotesque angle.
The chemistry between Nicholls and Brown remains as potent as ever, fluctuating between passionate lovers and skin-crawling discomfort. The bullying scene at the start of the show takes a dark turn very quickly, and the peculiar relationship between siblings gathered at the hospital for the potential death of 'Big Mama' becomes oddly sexual. Strange stuff. The pair undoubtedly have a passion for their work, and a love of working together, and that infectious enthusiasm – along with talented acting – propels the show further than the writing alone might allow.
I remain convinced that Grubby Little Mitts are set to be the next big thing in sketch comedy, and it's exciting to see them branch out, experiment with new types of shows, and continue to hone their craft. I'm now hoping that their next hour sees them take all their learnings and really refine everything that makes them great – they will be a force to be reckoned with.
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