Thursday, 29th February 2024 at Soho Theatre, London
⭐️⭐️⭐️
Reviewer: Emma Dorfman
Compellingly nonsensical and beautifully chaotic as ever, Lucy McCormick is back with “Lucy and Friends,” her self-proclaimed cabaret cum solo show meets spoken word/performance art piece, or some such amalgamation of genres.

I first saw McCormick about 2 years ago in an off-the-cuff cabaret night at Rich Mix, and I was so incredibly blown away by her ability to wing it– a talent not to be underestimated in a performer. In “Lucy and Friends,” I surely expected something a bit more polished. And indeed, the piece has clearly defined bits, each one more wild and imaginative than the previous one. And Lucy, too, stands as an extremely talented, agile performer. Amid the randomly selected, though thoroughly defined ‘acts,’ though, the piece’s cohesive message is still to be determined.
The premise is this: Lucy has been developing this brilliant ensemble show since 2020, but she hasn’t got the Arts Council funding to make it a full ensemble piece and hire on the company she originally wanted. So, she resorts to doing it on her own: she assigns various roles to audience members: one person’s job, for instance is shining a torch on Lucy when cued, others throw bags full of confetti, a few are even called up to take a glass of wine from an onstage bar cart during the ‘interval’.
One audience member is asked to be Lucy’s mum (‘Just sit there and look disappointed’, she instructs); another, her agent; yet another, a reviewer. And while many audience roles are used throughout (special shoutout to our torch artist, who stayed true to their word, tracking Lucy’s every movement during a rendition of Adele’s “Hello” dressed as a ghost in a bedsheet with two holes in it).
But others- the mum, the agent, the reviewer- don’t track all the way through, only making an honourable mention in the last 10 minutes or so. Nonetheless, the point of the multi-rolling and use of the audience is to prove a point about the reality of making friends as an adult. My only regret is that, by the time this point arrives, it hasn’t yet fully earned its due.

As I said before, each ‘act’ McCormick performs is clear, committed, and stands on its own. But this doesn’t necessarily mean that each one belongs in this show. In one scene, for instance, Lucy comes on in business casual wear with no pants on underneath her tight pencil skirt. Sitting down, she spreads her legs wide and begins taking items out of her large handbag. As she takes each one out, she tests them against her clitoris- a carrot, a hairbrush, a microphone- before moving into a sultry smooth rendition of Norah Jones’ “Don’t Know Why.” Perhaps the scene could say something about loneliness, or failing to take pleasure in one’s own company, but, despite testing and teasing us with every new, bigger, more wild item, it never quite builds toward something.

Other parts do fit better, though: the built-in ‘interval’, in which McCormick rolls on a short and hilariously pathetic IKEA drinks cart, sees Lucy doing the whole show on her own. She puts towels down over spilt wine and pee puddles on stage right and stage left respectively. There is no clean up crew but her. Likewise, for the very last musical number, she enlists the audience once again: ‘You! Grab that broom! Everyone, start putting the confetti back in the bags! Streamers back towards the stage please! We’ve got another show right after this one’!
The toxic pressure to do everything, do it quickly, and do it voluntarily is very much on. This could speak to a wider commentary on Lucy’s role as a performer, the nature of the industry, etc. And I think this is what she might be aiming for in such characters as the mum, the agent, and the reviewer. Unfortunately, I’m just not too sure this point comes across in the performance.
Lucy and Friends is at Soho Theatre until March 16th 2024 – more information and tickets can be found here.
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