Calypso Nights @ Roxy
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On the stage stands a dual-turntable. Inexplicably draped with an over-sized Mexican flag and adorned with technicoloured maracas of every size, it’s primed and loaded with two mystery records. Despite such flagrant visual clues, it would be impossible to Sherlock exactly what the evening has in store.
A single arm strains through the curtain fumbling for a switch. It takes countless laboured attempts to prove fruitful, before kettles drums and horns peel through the air to an infectious Afro-Caribbean beat, and Juan explodes on to the stage in a shower of pastel flamenco ruffles, man-tights and moves so dangerous, they’re banned in at least fifty countries.
This isn’t theatre. This isn’t really comedy either. It’s somewhere in between. Somewhere a Fringe show rarely leads us. A genre-defying riot that is so far removed from the usual festival fare, you won’t be able to contain the grinning. Under the turntable wizardry of DJ internacional Juan Vesuvius, the Roxy theatre is transformed into Calypso Nights, the hottest club in Latin America. Over the course of the next hour, the suave Venezuelan host educates a captive audience on the beauty of Calypso music (and Soca – not soccer) through dexterous spinning, crap jokes and the magic of interpretive dance. It’s a daring concept, and one that could easily go awry in the hands of most, but Kiwi comic Barnie Duncan delivers a theatrical experience so immersive, it wins everyone in the room.
The show is a cultural mash-up, echoed by the expertly crafted live soundtrack at the hands of Vesuvius; it’s impossible not to be impressed by his skill on the decks alone. It’s an elegant play on language and identity, without straying into any sort of crude pastiche. Seemingly oblivious to the mother tongue of the crowd, Vesuvius delivers the first ten minutes in a whirlwind of indecipherable Spanish – demonstrating Duncan’s natural showmanship and inherent comic flair as he tickles the room – without uttering a word of English.
Upon realising his error, he rewinds and recommences in minimal English with a heavy Latin lilt, and begins our journey into the heart of the Caribbean through music, vox pops, maraca virtuosity, sight gags and killer facial expressions. It’s modern clowning at its finest; unabashedly silly, infectiously playful but with serious commitment to landing a gag. It’s kinetic, dynamic and full of surprises. A single word over-administered to the point of hilarity, a cocked eyebrow, political re-education through live overdub. It’s all here, and it's unfaltering delight.
It’s often hard to define a barometer of your own success; however, if you get every single audience member bursting from their seats, waving maracas and invading the stage for an impromptu Latin dance party, you can sleep easy.
Calypso Nights is a joy from start to finish. If you haven’t seen this by the time August is out, you’ve missed everything. Do you like this?