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Presented by VEX
AHAHA. Okay. Take a breath. Let me try to make some sense of this. Or, at least, prime you for fever dream nonsense.
Awkwardly squinting into a spotlight, doing his best to be brave, a timid comedian tries to coax a laugh out of us—the titular “ahaha.” The vibe in the room is anxious and expectant. This guy is bombing and it’s excruciating, but also sort of adorable. You can’t look away. He tells us he has to pee and that “they” won’t let him leave unless he gets someone to fill in for him.
Anybody do comedy?
From the audience, a watchful, irritable guy in a suit volunteers. He tells us he works for Goldman Sachs, but now he wants to “save television.”
And then, all hell breaks loose.
We meet the “god of life and art and everything else.” There’s an art film. Disney appears as a super-villain atop bags of cartoon money. There are giant hands and lips, fight scenes with dead family members, and a popular celebrity figures into the scenario with a trademarked sword.
Is it an allegory? Is it a prank? Is it post-dramatic? Is it bullshit?
I had absolutely no clue what was going on or how to react. It feels like it’s supposed to mean something, but does it? It feels like they are making it up on the spot, but I can tell they aren’t. There’s craft here—the set-ups and execution are relatively complex.
It’s wild, y’all. Completely unhinged. Oddly specific. I’ve rarely been confronted with an experience that so aggressively deflects any attempt at interpretation.
The performance I caught was late at night and very thinly attended. I’m not sure it would work any other way. Daylight and a crowd would, I imagine, undermine this bizarre, indulgent effort by allowing you to properly orient yourself.
I’m glad I saw it and that it was short. I’m not sure I would recommend it or even know how to, but I was transfixed. It was anarchic, disruptive and thrilling.