Sarah Kendall: Touchdown
Absorbing hour of comedic storytelling at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe
This article is from 2014.
Interrupting her set, Sarah Kendall remarks that half the audience tonight seem to love her show and the other half hate it. It’s an unnecessary and disingenuous observation: Touchdown is an absorbing hour which has transfixed swathes of the audience into captive silence. It’s just not laugh-a-minute material.
Kendall begins her show by remembering an incident from her schooldays: in 1992 she was overheard insulting a teacher by the man himself. From this inauspicious start she unravels an awkward childhood, reminiscing about fairly typical teenage concerns. It’s during this portion of the show that Kendall unleashes most of her humour, gleefully puncturing the preposterousness of perfume ads, expertly deconstructing Jaws IV, and fondly recalling the teenage habit of drawing cocks on schoolbooks. Although from the latter juvenile proclivity, Kendall immediately jumps off into a profoundly dark exploration of the human psyche, a jarring dichotomy emblematic of her show in general.
A captivating storyteller, it’s difficult to know where Kendall’s tale will go next, and the mood ebbs and flows over an engaging hour before reaching a melancholy close. Ultimately, her story is a soapy teenage drama. But by infusing her recollections with a mature mind she’s able to bring those stories to florid life.
Pleasance Courtyard, run ended.