“This may not have been the show you wanted, but I appreciate you.” Thus commiserates Luke as his show draws to a conclusion. Opening with an atmosphere somewhere in between The Purge and late night karaoke, donning a dress and lipstick in various places, his violently eclectic style permeates through to his multi-media show.
Utilising song, this show is not a musical. Utilising poetry, it is not an art piece. Utilising the discomfort of the audience, it is not a chore to experience. McQueen’s Bad is in a genre in its own that could be described as absurdist and short, but would best of all be described as very, very funny.
McQueen blurs the line between comedian and audience the same way he ends up blurring sadism and masochism: the joke is never entirely on one or the other. Sometimes it’s not clear what the joke precisely is. This mysticism within the humour is intriguing and the vaguery means that there’s no need to worry about hand-holding through swaths of jokes.
McQueen’s carefully planned chaos only lasts fifty-five minutes. This tightness leads to a story much resembling an ouroboros: self devouring but very well connected. The charm of McQueen and the absurdism he portrays on stage adds intensely to the wittiness of his script.
This, combined with the fluidity by which he interacts and conjoins with his audience, makes more impressive the final result that is: Bad.
Humour, charisma, script, and methodology shine with originality – something difficult to achieve in the saturated market of the Fringe. If absurdist hyper-activity is at all your thing, Luke McQueen’s ‘Bad’ is a delight that is worth your time and money.