Zoe Lyons has been through the mill in the last few years – but haven’t we all, she acknowledges. She is one of us, we are her friends, her gang of fellow reprobates and mischief-makers. And as she confides and draws magic stories in the sky with vividly ridiculous and absolutely laughable imagery in similes, it’s a real blast to be on board this eccentric train ride for an hour.
There’s a loose chronology to the show, or at least the impression of one in a series of difficult events relayed, escalating in their physical telling and comic drama. A lighter touch for the more emotionally sensitive moments mindfully rations the truthful details shared in her tales, whilst keeping a level eye on the fast and steady humour output. It’s a true skill to filter pain into laughter with the apparent ease of shelling peas, but Lyons does it at such speed and deftness that the hiatus in her 25 year marriage is almost simply dropped as a set-up for further material about her time spent on her “Divorced Dad Flat”, and the acts of what might be seen a classic mid life crisis if she wasn’t so self aware.
Zoe is the brunt of Zoe’s funny bone, and as such is deep-diving and engagingly honest. Sensitive and aghast at her surreal visit to daytime telly, carrying us alongside aspects of her difficult alopecia experience (hence the title), a contemplation of the menopause kicking in during the pandemic that was frankly relatable to all and sundry regardless of age or gender – throughout it all is the mantra-like phrase she brings up for her final story: “What’s the worst that could happen?” It’s utterly guileless and an attitude that prompts anticipatory giggles cascading each time her face expresses that blind optimism in the face of metaphorical mountains. The contortions pulled, dances danced, to convey the ludicrous imagery and predicaments are to good effect, filling this hometown end of tour show in the faded opulence of this period theatre with laughter to the rafters.
A Zoe Lyons show is a fabulous feast, and not one of those Henry VIII jobs – this is a feast of bright cartoon rendering, with trifle as high as your knee and Desperate Dan sausage and mash. It’s a delight for the senses, carefully rationing out with a taster of everything, leaving a satiated smile and a genuine affectionate warmth in the chest. And a desire to see where this ambition leads to next.
Five Stars
