Corey Spence
Gabby Anderson and Lesa Macleod-Whiting, comics you might recognise from the improv comedy troupe Tiny Dog, are throwing their hands into stand-up for Flow State. Opening with a pre-show blurb, they ask us to come on a new journey with them as they share the stage individually for two sets each. A ‘gentle’ joke about their show slot (9:00pm) is all the pair need to get their audience laughing and in the right state for their flow.
Instead of taking the stage together, the two split their show time between two stand-up sets each, alternating between Anderson and Macleod-Whiting following on from their joint opening. I haven’t seen stand-up handled like this (the closest might be a series of comics each having a 10 minute set), especially given the individual sets connect to each comic’s next set and feel related as part of the show’s narrative. It works. What we are presented with allows both to shine as individuals and gives purpose to splitting the time between them both.
Anderson is a joyful comic, though there’s a careful balance when the comedy is close to home. Her jokes are often reflective and personal, those about her past partners and personal struggles come to mind here. There’s always the right amount of ‘funny’ and it’s clear from the chuckling that the audience is always with her. I think her second set is stronger—perhaps that is because both are underpinned by film references and the first one goes over my head—but Anderson is particularly strong in pacing. I appreciate how carefully she sits on punchlines or draws out jokes, taking note of her audience’s reaction and giving us the time to laugh before continuing.
Macleod-Whiting offers up a clever, connected, and sometimes self-deprecating platter. At times the jokes are a bit quick, one of the strongest parts of her sets are how the jokes are returned to and given new life. Those about her daughter’s opinion on her comedy and her time spent on an Italian school exchange are some examples. It’s clear the audience is in love with the stories Macleod-Whiting shares, packaging jokes neatly throughout them, and it also serves to give her sets an effective structure. My favourite of her anecdotes comes in the form of a confession around avocados and home-owning; as an avocado-eating millennial who does not own a home, this joke can be tiresome, but it has a new coat of paint that elicits a tremendous laugh from the crowd.
Despite the premise of individual sets, how the two performers connect and interact as they set up the show speaks to their ability to work together. They share the space and the set up, letting each go through a glimpse of what will follow. Aside from this, the two don’t really spend time on stage together again. Part of me thinks the show could capitalise on interludes together as it would add another narrative element (alongside or instead of the already present voiceover to round off sets before the next one) to an already fairly cohesive sequence of stand-up sets. It would allow the audience to sit with their exceptional and real friendship. By virtue of my seat, I notice that each time Anderson or Macleod-Whiting finish, they embrace, encourage, and congratulate the other. I can’t help but feel the rest of the audience missed out here.
Flow State made for a thoroughly enjoyable evening. Anderson and Macleod-Whiting are witty anecdotal comics that feel like the perfect pair. The show is cohesive and connected, and lets us get a feel for each comic as an individual. And while there could be space for moments together, they were, as promised, “dripping in jokes”; we were swimming in laughter. Watch out for these two — together, or apart.