Don't bring your conservative grandparents.
Watching Lucy and Friends is how I imagine a halluncinatory drug trip. From smothering her body with tomato puree, to exposing naked truths (literally) to maiming a piñata and cutting a strip-pole with a disc saw, Lucy McCormick challenges the limits of art in an absurd combination of comedy, theatre and performance installations.
We learn quickly that the 'friends' in her title are us. The audience support the show through holding torches for lighting, reading MC introductions, throwing confetti, playing a large game of Wink Murder, embodying roles and singing communal songs between acts (among many other things). It is playful organised chaos - McCormick instructs, gathers and deprecates us and we surprisingly stay in the palm of her hand. However, I could see this going downhill with a less enthusiastic bunch.
McCormick destroys the traditional performance rubric through blasphemous mayhem, but for those of us familiar with her the shock factor is getting a bit overdone. Sometimes it feels like shock for the sake of shock without a purpose - yes you're covering yourself in wine and hummus (love the confidence) but what is the point behind it?
The piece takes a sudden turn at the end, breaking out into a monologue about loneliness and trauma. She showcases the strong acting chops we saw in Wise Children's Wuthering Heights in a deep, heartfelt monologue that feels all too relatable.
I don't think I've ever been to a piece with such a divided audience - speaking to people afterwards, someone said it was the "best show at the Fringe" while someone else said it was the "worst thing they've ever seen". But that's what Lucy does - she presents things so beyond performative norms that we don't quite know how to respond.
For the right audience, this is a daring challenge to the norms of theatrical performance.
Lucy and Friends is at the Pleasance Courtyard Aug 15-20, 22-23
Videos