Shay Mace
Hi Jill. It’s me, Jill. In fact, we’re all Jill at Jill’s Tupperware Party, Coral Bevan and Ricky Hunt’s monastic, fanciful, and utterly absurd immersive character comedy. Step into a theatre where the chairs have been removed, and in their place the preset consists of the entire audience donning hair nets, putting on name tags (I’ll leave you to guess what’s written on them), and being introduced to our fellow Jills through icebreakers. This is a show for those comfortable only with the most ridiculous and involved audience interaction, but if you’re up for the ride, you’ll leave the room with a belly aching from laughter, and full of fresh, homecooked delight.
It’s the 80th anniversary of Tupperware! And as Jills, our task is to sell, sell, sell. If we ascend to the top of the pyramid, one lucky Jill is selected to become ‘King Tup’, and from there, our two host Jills drag us down a psychedelic, camp rabbit hole packed full of musical numbers, group dances, cabaret performances, and a microwave-ready finale delivered in the dark that delves deep into retro B Movie horror. If I told you fully what to expect, it wouldn’t be worth you attending, so forgive me reader if I leave you a little vague on the details for this one.
Interviewing Coral and Ricky from Asparagus Mousse, it was revealed to me that the show came from Coral’s horror-themed birthday party, in which Ricky attended with a 1980s microwave cookbook. There is a plastic, perfect, and equal parts horrifying aesthetic that is crafted to perfection by the duo, with bouffant wigs hiding massive foreheads underneath, and the hysterical use of props to ‘vacuum seal’ the room. The pair replicate all the suburban horrors à la uncanny valley with such childish glee and whimsy, and the piece is just as engrossing as it is involving. It’s a stellar piece of escapism to step into the room and become a Jill for an hour, and stepping back into the bright light of day at half three in the afternoon makes the whole experience all the more blindingly obscene.
As the piece nosedives into practical horror, your limits on audience participation may well be tested, but fear not, in Ricky & Coral’s deft hands, all Jills are safe. There’s an immediate sense of commitment from many in attendance, quite happy to embody the divine feeling of becoming Jill. Have I said the word Jill enough in this review? As conductors of the room, the real bliss is that the pair know that their commitment to the bit is key to keep all of the other Jills on side throughout, and create the atmosphere that leaves you feeling this show is about to become a Fringe cult classic.
Leave your worries at the door, prepare your sales figures for the quarter, and prepare to join a company of totally uncanny friends. Don’t miss your invite to this unbending, irreverent, totally hypnotic experience.
Recommended Drink: Pop off the lid of your microwave-safe mug and gulp down some goopy instant coffee ahead of this one.
You can catch Jill’s Tupperware Party at Belly Laugh at Underbelly, Cowgate until August 30th (not the 17th or 24th) from 14:35 (60mins). Tickets are available through the EdFringe Online Box Office.
Hannah Hamilton
Ellen Leslie
Abbie Lowe
