Lilli Margaret
Nick Robertson’s Leave to Enter is, on the face of it, the story of a guy who is stopped from entering Scotland. The reality of this show is a comedic deep dive into the psyche of young 20-something year old Robertson navigating a difficult situation with humour, sadness, optimism, and Candy Crush.
Leave to Enter’s New Zealand season is at 2/57 Willis Street, a cozy shared space which works nicely for an intimate one man show like this. The set feels organically part of the space, rather than a separate room, with lamps and regular ceiling lights to illuminate the space. A massive projector screen takes up most of the back wall and serves as a visual aid.
Robertson is authentic, vulnerable, and deeply self-deprecating. He looks to engage with the audience, acknowledging jokes that don’t land and moving along quickly with any slip ups. I feel he is fully himself when he is performing which is brave, especially when sharing deep and personal stories.
Audience file in as Robertson dances to Backstreet Boys bangers, with the lights up. At first, the energy is great; we get that first glimpse of our performer tonight and his vibe. However, after around three songs, with Robertson continuing to lip sync, dance across the performance area, and look into the audience, I feel like I’m supposed to be doing something, but I don’t know what. As an audience member we all want to know if there’s something we are supposed to be doing and if we are doing a good job of whatever that is, and it is disconcerting to not know what is expected of you. Alongside Nick occasionally checking the length of time left on the visual slideshow that played as the audience filed in, this made it difficult to tell when the show is actually starting. Lighting or sound cues could assist the transition from the pre-show to the show itself in future performances.
The show begins with Robertson telling us a little about himself. The delivery, I find, is piecemeal. The beginning is a rapid fire of self-deprecation, roaring from one anecdote to the next. Pulling apart a couple of key jokes and examining them from all angles would help us as an audience connect more with the humour behind the stories. Some of his humour is on the edge of problematic and makes me uncomfortable. Building trust in where the story is going and how we’ll get there may help some of those edgier jokes or more confrontational topics land more comfortably. I acknowledge too that a venue like 57 Willis where there’s not the same separation between the audience and the performer compared to say, a standard black box theatre set up, impacts the way that stories and humour may land. In this context, it feels like a lot all at once.
After the introduction of Robertson and who he is, we move on to the story that he has come to tell us. One can see the joy that Robertson has in telling stories, weaving in anecdotes, and painting pictures of characters who have helped or hindered him on his journey. Once again, the flow of the story is difficult to follow. I struggle to find highs and lows and know how close or far we are from the end of this story. I don’t understand Robertson’s motivation for the trip in the first place, so I don’t know what the stakes are. Out of context, it feels like I have started an episode midway through a podcast or TV series where perhaps there’s some subtext that isn’t explained. The visual elements of storytelling, such as the personalised stamps of locations, concepts or people that have been discussed (a lovely and artistic touch), gives a sense of progression and achievement. However, again, it is not clear what the end point would look like. Having another person clicking through the slides rather than Robertson pausing to do so may also help keep the piece moving smoothly.
For a show that has come from a critically acclaimed Melbourne comedy season, and is $25 per ticket, I expect something more polished. There is nothing wrong with a stripped back intimate piece, however the lack of flow, the slow start, and the run time of less than an hour felt more like a young show in its budding development than an international Fringe show.