Lucy and Friends NNF 2024
Lucy McCormick is a brilliant clown, capable of putting herself through endless humiliating scenarios in service to her art, only to then deconstruct the presumption it is art, and then take to task anyone foolish enough to do what I am doing now - trying to make sense of it all.
N&N Festival
I first came across Lucy McCormick under a tree on the Henham Estate in Suffolk, taking a break from the Latitude festival. She mentioned she was a performer, road testing her upcoming debut Edinburgh show, in a tent, pointed vaguely over there, and invited me along. I was, therefore, entirely unprepared for the unremitting force of Triple Threat, a parody of the Holy Trinity that culminated in her crucifixion while covered in tomato sauce. It was a smash hit in that year’s Edinburgh, and her follow up show, Post Popular, was just as good. But nothing could match the visceral shock/horror of seeing her while unprepared. I wonder if that's at least partly the reason that Lucy and Friends, for all its exuberant invention and anarchic energy left me feeling vaguely underwhelmed. It may also have been the late start - half an hour is a long time to wait outside on a nippy May night.
Lucy started as she meant to go on, distributing props, issuing instructions and assigning roles, all while dressed as a tree. The premise of the show was that, having failed to get Arts Council funding, she had been forced to put a cabaret on all by herself, enlisting the help of her audience - her new friends - to do some of the heavy lifting. Some got confetti, some got cue notes, someone got a makeshift spotlight/torch to shine on her. So far, harmless fun with some gags thrown in. Having been assigned the role of Mum, one audience member was told to do nothing except sit there looking disappointed, and that's a good joke.
What followed were a series of standalone routines. Some absurd, some shocking, some psychotic, and all performed by Lucy McCormick in varying states of undress. Pole dancing was given short shrift, carrots were inserted, and water bottles topped up. Each episode was accomplished in a startlingly confrontational way that suggested an intention to push boundaries to breaking point. Without spoiling the surprise of her performance its tricky to reveal much more, but suffice to say she came up with an unorthodox solution to the age old problem of a mid-show loo break.
Lucy McCormick is a brilliant clown, capable of putting herself through endless humiliating scenarios in service to her art, only to then deconstruct the presumption it is art, and then take to task anyone foolish enough to do what I am doing now - trying to make sense of it all. She has gone on record as saying her performances are all about pushing herself well beyond what she finds comfortable and there were glimmers of vulnerability that suggested a broader theme. As a performer she is ultimately alone, a friendly audience the closest she gets to a genuine connection, and I suppose I can project that onto what I saw. But I can't help thinking the universal praise this show has garnered has been just that - projection - by people who know and admire her work and have surmised it's meaning by factoring in what she has done before.
So would I go see Lucy McCormick again? Of course I would. She still has interesting things to say, was sporadically hilarious, and is, at the ever least, a unique force of nature. The festival is to be commended for having the nerve and vision to include her in the programme. But eight years on from her stunning debut, I was hoping for a step forward. I thought it a pity she wasn’t able to focus and understand what she does well, trusting herself to engage with folk without resorting to shock tactics that can stun an audience into slack jawed consternation but which are ultimately tricks which grow stale. It is, after all, how you make real friends.
I am reminded of an old music hall joke of a performer who goes into an agent's office and sets himself on fire. It was a great act, said the agent, but unfortunately, he could only do it once.
