It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes, if I’m very, very lucky, a production or a performer comes along that stops me in my tracks – one that’s so undeniably good that I’m literally lost for words.
It's a funny thing, excellence, inasmuch as it tends to render the passing of time imperceptible. Lulo and company's abundant, prolific, two-hours-and-then-some concert was over all too soon.
Pistol Whipped is a raunchy hour of dance, dense with activity, narrative and showy athleticism, to the point of being veritably acrobatic, to a circus-like degree.
Contradiction, conundrum, conflict, racism, misogyny and homophobia run through this play like a main circuit cable snaking through a moral minefield of explosive allegation.
Following the unedifying edict that "there's a sucker born every minute", the show skewers the modern self-improvement economy in a piss-take parody of today's 'gurus' and snake-oil salesmen.