Centre stage is a microphone on a stand. A few metres away, watching, the comedian sits with a piece of black gaffer tape over his mouth.  This is not your typical stand-up show, and anticipation is electric and infectious as people pour into the Opera House to see the silent one. After a “turn off your cellphone” request, the loudspeaker states that this show is interactive and “do play along or you’ll look like a cock.” 

This forms all of the ingredients for The Boy with Tape on His Face—More Tape: an hour of nonverbal, interactive, childlike play; pure enjoyment. Sam Wills is The Boy and his set switches between solo play and scenarios that depend on audience members to join him onstage.

Throughout the entire show, music is key element to relay information and tone. When Wills is alone his comedy usually depends on a form of found-object puppetry. One memorable bit includes two oven mitts singing the Lionel Ritchie and Diana Ross rendition of ‘Endless Love’.  In another moment, John Lennon appears before our eyes out of Wills’s hands and a mop head. 

The real magic in the show, however, is the audience participation. There is sheer delight in watching the ways Wills can coax and manipulate his audience into doing whatever he chooses, without saying a single word.  Is it his charismatic eyes or Chaplinesque physicality that’s so persuasive? I can’t tell. But he is damn persuasive.

Each time an audience member joins him on stage they are ‘asked’ to participate in a ‘simple’ competition or task that is complicated by the elements (props) it involves. (Think Rube Goldberg’s vision of technology.) For example, one audience member swings a golf club to a ping pong ball tee-ed by a hair dryer to be caught in a dustpan by another audience member, all to Survivor’s ‘Eye of the Tiger’.

Dramatic suspense is created early on when an audience member pushes a clearly-labelled ‘Do Not Push’ button. The dangerous implications of this action linger throughout the show, concluding in one of the most singularly spectacular displays I have ever witnessed in the theatre.  No spoiler alert here, but I will say it involves a mass party, many red balloons and a popular 80s tune. 

My one minor qualm with Wills’s work is his choice of audience members conveys a strong gender bias. In an audience demographic that was very much a mix of genders, of the twelve people invited to join him on stage ten were men and only two women.  Why neglect so much of your audience? 

Regardless, The Boy with Tape on His Face—More Tape is highly recommended to anyone who wants a fun-filled night of clever invention, community, comedy and play.

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Like kids anticipating The Cat In The Hat’s return on a rainy day, we wonder: what will The Boy and his extraordinary mind come up with this time, from the objects around him, the audience with him, the music and imaginings inside him? Using dress ups and junk scattered round the stage, The Boy is back, with silent mischief, tricks and skits (some old, some new), underpinned by the genius that Sam Wills is now recognised for around the world.

Support act Simon McKinney opens with a 30 minute set. While he starts with blind jokes that feel obvious and fall a tad flat, as soon as he dials up the helium and puts on an accent, the crowd is on board and he is fully entertaining. His impersonations of Australians, German tourists, South Africans, and people with an array of English accents, showcases Simon at his best.

But we are here for The Boy With Tape On His Face in More Tape.

Sam Wills is the consummate ringmaster, and like loyal dogs we are eager to please and be pleased, obeying his every command and so easily led by the power of suggestion. The Boy is high status, and by using his finely tuned gestures and expression, is very much in charge. He doesn’t suffer fools lightly, yet looks after all his audience volunteers, ensuring they are the heroes by the time they return to their seats.

As with his previous show, the choice of music is perfect be it by Cher, Strauss, The Blues Brothers, Wagner, Stereogram, or underlay music synonymous with French mime artist Marcel Marceau. It’s ideally programmed and in perfect synch with the on stage action.

The opening skit, a masterminded twist on ‘pistols at dawn’, is my 14 yr old cousin’s favourite. Other acts are reprised from previous shows (‘oven mitts in love’, ‘mine’s bigger than yours’, ‘the marriage’), yet played out by different audience members, even though the stakes are the same, the journey, the jeopardy and the outcome, is varied. Each repeat is still a treat.

The best of the new material displays the whizz-kid wacky brilliance and standard that previous shows have set. No more so than when two audience volunteers, props constructed from junk on stage, plus a hair dryer, and a seemingly impossible task set by The Boy, creates the same kind of frenzied excitement of an Olympic final. When we complete The Boy’s bidding, it is SO exciting, that I may have even involuntarily punched the air with my fist and yelled out, “Yes!”… Along with the rest of the audience.

The vast majority of his skits are tight and well-constructed. The exceptions for me are the Rubik’s Cube and 20^th Century Fox gags, as I wonder if the pay-off is worth the set-up, given the extraordinary standard of Sam’s work.

While the show is essentially a series of skits, there’s an ominous recurring build-up to an apocalyptic climax of…. go see for yourself. Let’s just say the end is inclusive and interactive, yet so much fun.

The set-up to the apocalypse, as well as the epilogue, reminds the audience what The Boy With Tape On His Face in More Tape is all about: throw yourself into a world of ‘can do’: stay curious; stay tuned to the child within; lose yourself in the music, mime, ideas and imagination. What could be better?

Just as good the second time round.

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The seemingly makeshift assortment of cardboard boxes, a chair, a stool, shelf unit and bits and pieces (a microphone even!?), creates an anticipatory air of something playful and imagination-based.  As this is my first time witnessing the now legendary face-taped Boy, I’m intrigued and excited, looking forward to learning what all the fuss is about and generally expecting the unexpected.

Firstly though, Jamie Bowen warms up the audience with his fairly universal brand of inappropriate wit.* He claims it’s a homecoming performance of sorts, being a Shore boy born and bred, and proceeds to slag off any locals who didn’t go to the same high school as him, before launching into twenty odd minutes about Being a Comedian (they do say talk about what you know), investigating social prejudices and stereotypes re. redheads, Asian drivers, male libidos, bestial pornography etc.  Something for everyone to be both amused and offended by. 

After the break it’s The Boy’s turn.  As the near-full auditorium returns to their seats the title character, aka Sam Wills, sits pigeon-toed, sighing and fidgeting in his trademark black mop, stripy top, slim grey suit, purple sneakers and of course the iconic short strip of gaffer tape sealing up his gob. 

The lights go down and a friendly PA voice welcomes us, advising it’s an interactive show so if you’re called up “play along, or you will look like a cock!” 

Possibly the most classic of all musical introductory stings is that of 20th Century Fox, which our hero seeks to punctuate with a party blower… Problem #1: how can he blow the whistle with his mouth covered?  Solution: the first of many instances of delightful ingenuity designed to charm and amaze, as they invariably do.

The first guest brought on stage finds himself embroiled in a wild-west shootout involving balloons, staple-guns and the theme from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.  The next guy doesn’t do much, just pushes a button, but just wait… Others are subjected to duelling, dancing, golfing exploits (found-object sports?), horseracing, balloon tricks, etc, etc … as a general rule laughing with the rest of us, and accompanied by rousing and eclectic soundtracks. 

It’s interesting to note that only two of all the guests called on are women – one to play senorita to the Spanish matador, and one ballerina-cum-blushing bride.  I’m not sure if this is coincidence or policy; if the latter I’m curious to know the principle behind it.  Certain feats probably do work best with the male physicality, like the loudest cheer-inducing stunt comprising four strapping fellows and Bill Withers’ ‘Lean on Me’.

Interspersed with Tape Boy’s divine and dastardly games are a number of short solo gags with ‘improvised’ puppets, a swivel stool, more balloons, crockery and a Rubik’s cube.  All and sundry should witness the innately clever and definitively hilarious antics of New Zealand’s greatest non-lingual celebrity artist since What Now‘s Props Boy (in the 1990s). 

For a character who never speaks, he’s certainly got the punters raving! 

*Note, the Q season does not have a support act.

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