Review: PUDDLES PITY PARTY, Soho Theatre

“Heard joke once: Man goes to doctor. Says he's depressed. Says life seems harsh and cruel. Says he feels all alone in a threatening world where what lies ahead is vague and uncertain. Doctor says, "Treatment is simple. Great clown Pagliacci is in town tonight. Go and see him. That should pick you up." Man bursts into tears. Says, "But doctor...I am Pagliacci.”

 - Alan Moore, Watchmen

As he greets his audience coming into the auditorium, Puddles doesn't seem be all of the seven foot many online sources report him as being, but it’s doesn't seem really worth quibbling about this with him. The first - and most glaringly obvious - reason is that up close he is a mountain of a man with a Trappist-like attachment to silence. Thanks to his hit YouTube videos, his followers are legion and - unlike their hero - very vocal if the press night crowd is anything to go by. Lastly, in his signature outfit, he presents himself as a passive, placid and pacifist Pennywise; he may look like he wouldn’t hurt a fly but, as your parents and your own experience have no doubt taught you, it is the quiet ones you have to watch out for.

This is his second time throwing his Pity Party here in London. He first came to the capital a decade ago, appearing as part of touring cabaret spectacular La Soiree. That show was never short of top-tier international talent yet his performance of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” still shines in the memory. He came back the following year with a full production to Soho Theatre’s basement studio, his melancholy manners and endearing antics pulling us all into an emotional and sometimes physical embrace. At one point, he persuaded an incredibly shy reviewer up on stage to unwittingly sing out The Beatles’ “Yesterday” while he sat in a corner watching and nonchalantly eating a banana. People have seen a therapist over less than that.

Much has happened since then. My singing hasn't got any better but Puddles became even more famous thanks to competing on America’s Got Talent, reaching the quarterfinals before crashing out. That led to more opportunities with a Las Vegas residency at Caesar’s and TV appearances before the pandemic. His experiences on the small screen have seemingly fed through to this show with multiple Dina Martina-style video references to British TV classics like Are You Being Served?, Doctor Who and Only Fools And Horses.

His latest visit finds him looking much as before. Dressed in a Pierrot outfit of silvery white blouse and pantaloons with frilled collars and wrists and three big black pompoms down the front, Mike Geier has been Puddles in one form or another since 1998 after a few years as an Elvis impersonator with a band appropriately enough called Kingsized. In person, he is charming as hell and refers to his alter ego in the third person (Puddles, for his part, does the same about Geier). The clown, though, is portrayed on stage as a downbeat and depressed character, even if for his latest outing he is on something of a mission.

It is never exactly clear quite what that mission is. Is he back to raise the issue of men’s mental health, as suggested by the many slides at the beginning of the show? Or to promote a brand of decaf coffee? As in Lucy McCormack’s Lucy & Friends (also currently at the same venue), there’s a wraparound concept of the solo star waiting for invited guests who never arrive. In Puddles’ case, he is waiting for Kevin Costner to turn up and he is trying to keep us entertained as only he can until the Yellowstone star bursts through the doors.

The songs themselves are an eclectic hodgepodge of piano ballads and pop/rock numbers which are delivered in his signature baritone voice and accompanied by humorous videos. A lounge version of Britney Spears’ “Toxic” is delivered in front of a clip demonstrating the evils of sugar (at least, it looks like sugar) while George Michael’s “Praying For Time“ comes with warnings about the perils of consumerism and rampant capitalism.

Nick Cave’s “The Ship Song” is probably only behind Radiohead’s “Creep” as the most (over)played song in cabaret sets, but I’ve never seen Camille O’Sullivan or Le Gateau Chocolat pull a raft of random men on stage for a line of happy hugging. When he finally gets around to his megahit cover (34 million-plus YouTube views and counting) of Lorde’s “Royals”, he replaces the backing music with the clap/drum percussion from Queen’s “We Will Rock You”, a bizarre and brave choice which somehow works.

Puddles’ voice is only half his appeal. His miming is jokingly risible but otherwise his acting and physicality is impressively strong. His human connection is phenomenal, whether he is encouraging us to sing along or walking among the audience to find his next collaborator. His huge frame doesn’t dilute the small movements and grand gestures that he makes which draw us into his world of pain, suffering and despair at what humanity has come to.

If anything, this statuesque porcelain figure resembles a lighthouse beaming out a musical message of love and resistance against this world's dark clouds or perhaps a beacon of hope pointing the way to a better future.

Puddles Pity Party continues at Soho Theatre until 18 March.

Photo credits: Emily Butler

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