At Lower Melbourne Town Hall
Melbourne International Comedy Festival 1994
Reviewer: Kate Herbert around April 10, 1994
This review was published in The Melbourne Times after April 10, 1994
In All of Me, Tania Lacey bares nearly all, not only physically but emotionally. You might consider standing on stage in your underwear to be exhibitionism, but the teensy bra and knickers presage the personal revelations and vulnerability which are to follow.
All of Me is a one-woman rave, stand-up, cabaret, dance thing in which Lacey reveals her dark secrets about wildly obsessional behaviour with men, ballet, men, food, men, smokes, drinks and – well – more men.
The material is personal and truthful. She quips often about her therapist being responsible for the content. It is not unusual for comics to use audiences for therapy, but they don't always own up. Lacey is feisty, spunky and driven on stage. She struts, dances and yaps, playing herself and various other characters with outrageous energy.
There are some very funny sequences about being a "90's woman". Lacey's theory that we are either "Party Girls" who make 'em laugh or "Pouty Girls" who take 'em home, is too close to the truth. Her impressions of "Bad Boys', New Men and Dream Lovers are glaring indictments of our endless capacity to be duped by morons and bastards.
Lacey savages not only pouters and men, but also herself. "I was a fat ballerina." She does a great, abusive fall-down drunk and some very unflattering and truthful whimpering as herself in ‘lerv’ with yet another jerk.
The material is nearly stand-up, but the show has a more theatrical edge which is probably its major flaw. There are some jumpy lighting changes and, given that costume changes are on-stage, it seemed unnecessary to black out for anything else. It slowed the show and Lacey is at her best when going hell-for-leather.
She runs on a fierce adrenalin and engages an audience readily with both her wild jokiness and her shifts into truthful anguish. These could have been melodramatic if she were not so sincere. The show ends on a rather moving self-revelatory note. "Other people's laughter always seemed more real than my own." Laughter can mask deep sadness and there is a genuine poignancy which filters through this pacey and hysterical performance.
Kate Herbert 10.4.94 380 wds
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