In the NZ International Comedy Festival programme, this show is described as “an hour of stonkingly outrageous silliness [where] dance, clown and sketch collide”, so I have high hopes as I take a seat in the rapidly filling Basement Studio.

Lights go down, music begins and we quickly get some very clear clues about how well-crafted and funny the work is. A split-second before the wait-for-something-to-happen becomes too long, Tessa Waters bursts onto the stage, glittering from top to toe. It’s a great entrance, and she proves her comedic skill when she immediately undercuts it by … (I won’t say how). In less than thirty seconds we have seen the hallmarks of what will become a hilarious show.

It is clear from the start that Waters is a gifted physical comedian, as she effortlessly brings us into her world with little more than her expressions and her ability to strike a pose. She is unrelentingly unselfconscious as she gives us some information about herself and promises us a roller coaster ride of a show. She is wonderfully quick to pick up and build on responses from the audience, and it is plain that participation will be encouraged. I admire the feat of memory that she displays as the show goes on, continually circling back and referring to small responses from the audience, until the smallest moment becomes uproariously funny. 

The first section of the show focuses on Tessa herself. She is able to generate laughs from simple things such as demonstrating how fit she is, before taking off on a beautifully crafted tangent that ends up with the audience catching imaginary (not saying). I love how mindful she is of the world she creates, fully committing to each item she mimes into existence and never losing track of where her creations are, even long after we may have. Her ability to circle back to seeds that she plants early in the show is a joy. 

Having informed us that she is trained in mime, she invites a willing member of the audience to join her for her ‘imaginary hula hoop’ routine. It’s sometimes difficult to tell how much of the performance is impromptu, as Waters takes every opportunity to react to the material in front of her, but it is also clear that she has a great talent for choosing audience members who will support and enhance her well-laid plans. This section is just one example of the skill with which Waters builds each part of the show – taking the time to lay really solid foundations before taking flight towards a pinnacle of laughter.

Her energy is outstanding throughout the show and it’s gratifying to see that she seems to be enjoying the performance as much as we do. This ability to enjoy herself gives us license to respond in kind, and at this performance the audience participation is genuine and joyful.

Waters’ next section involves even more audience participation, with three audience members invited to join her in a wonderful piece of surreal comedy based on a water slide. Just when you think she has played the situation to its conclusion, she finds a way of ramping it up a notch to generate even more laughs.

The ‘serious theatre’ section of the show is anything but, although any performance that can take an audience from non-stop giggling to sympathetic ‘aww-ing’ is proof of how well-crafted it is.

The final section allows the audience to call the shots to an extent, as Waters responds to their suggestions before cleverly persuading the entire audience to join in with her, leaving us high-fiving and hugging total strangers. 

Tessa Waters is witty, sharp and physically gifted. Her ability to raise laughs with the simplest of gestures is an absolute joy to watch, and her generosity of spirit encourages the audience to truly engage with the experience. It is wonderful to see a performer so assured and confident in her abilities and so willing to work with us to create a show that totally lives up to its description.

This is a silly, outrageously good show and I am stonkingly glad I got to see it.

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