***
I’ve never done it before but for the first time I thought I’d walked into the wrong show. As I arrived at The Hive I was greeted by a small woman in a massive wig pretending to be Dolly Parton and loudly handing out ping pong balls. I wasn’t sure but I thought I’d go with it and sat down. It was only when a boob-shaped balloon floated above my head that I realised I was in the right place.
As the title As Funny As Cancer suggests, Vyse’s show is about her recent illness, but first, after the Parton wig is removed, we get a bit of back story. Growing up in Stoke-on-Trent, having lovely but odd parents, joining the RSC. Vyse can certainly keep your attention and amuse you at the same time. There’s more than a hint of Julie Walters as she talks of herself as the working class lass hobnobbing with the luvvies: “I shared a can of Coke with Rory Kinnear.”
Things all look rosy as she starts a relationship with a boyfriend called Michael Jackson – cue audience participation and a rubber Jacko mask. On the day I was in this went brilliantly, though I can see it being a little bit, erm, awkward if the person press ganged isn’t up for it.
The mood, however, changes when a breast lump is spotted. It’s into hospital for checks, MRI scans and consultations with a doctor – again played by an audience member, who is called upon to deliver some very grave news while wearing a very silly costume (which reminded me of this).
Vyse is a skilful performer and handles these gear changes extremely well. There is a particularly funny scene when she re-enacts choosing a new nipple from a catalogue after her mastectomy. Cancer is clearly a serious subject but this is never in bad taste. It is clear that one might find dark humour in it.
This is a powerful show tackling a life-changing subject and it does it very well. I would have given it more stars but I had a couple of issues. It did suddenly peter out after around 40 minutes (a bit more if you include the Dolly intro). Then again, maybe it's no bad thing leaving the audience wanting more.
And, given Vyse’s taste for the playfully absurd it is never quite clear where fantasy ends and truth begins. Did she really have a snog with a former Dr Who? Did her ex really share a name with a famous dead pop star? Does her dad really wear Crocs?
These are small quibbles though. This is not the first comedy Fringe show about cancer, or the only one in Edinburgh this year, catch Alistair Barrie too. But Vyse is an excellent and engaging performer. Now that she has got this weighty subject off her chest (her joke, not mine) it will be exciting to see what she does next.
Until August 30. Free, info here.
