Review: The Subplot at Fringe Hub

Review by Greg Gorton

Honestly, The Subplot had to do very little to please me. I knew enough about the infamous Titan incident, and the memes that grew from it, to know it would make easy content for a comedy show. I also knew that an obsessive artist (and are not all artists obsessive?) would teach me more than I ever would want to about the catastrophe. I highly suspected the more serious parts of the show would be about either the evils of capitalism or the ignorance of ignoring nature, and these would do me nicely.

At no point during my mental preparation for this show, however, did I expect to face existential questions that would make me rethink the way we look at billionaires, and the way I personally react to challenges, risks, facts, and my own mortality. While fifty-five of the sixty minutes is pure mirth, Sophie Smyth uses those sparing five throughout the night to ask herself, and therefore us, “what am I doing with my life, and does it make me happy?”

For a show that has to literally be set up in seconds, Subplot has a surprisingly complex set, with piles of books, Rubix cubes, notes, and a Logitech game controller (which IS explained). A large screen is used as the costumed Smyth approaches the centre of the stage and “prepares us for our descent”. 

Most of the show is presented as a lecture. Sometimes this is the high energy rant you would expect, throwing data and jokes in rapid succession. On screen, image after image after transcript after map is shown. It all makes sense, telling a coherent story of what happened (to both the submersible AND the artist during the time of the disaster). While Sophie Smyth is the writer and performer of this show, the direction she has taken from Casey Gould has certainly helped in creating a charismatic and compelling character that is still enough of herself without expecting her to bleed on stage. There has been thought about what content needs to be said, read, heard, or seen; it’s beautiful when a production has thought carefully about the best avenue for presenting content, even in the smaller jokes. While this show is somewhat complex technically, it’s clear that Smyth has surrounded herself with only the best theatrical crew in designing and implementing the world in which she performs.

There's a deviousness in the way Smyth approaches comedy. A traditional joke allows us a set up, one which creates our expectations and, while we may not be able to guess the punchline (that would not be funny), we are aware that one is coming. In Subplot, the frenetic nature of the show and its audiovisual nature leads to an almost psychotic presentation of humour. When Smyth presses on her controller to show the next slide/photo/video we could see a transcript of a senate hearing, a meme sending up The Titanic (1996), clips from The Titanic (1996), a logo for Mastercard, or the worst parody of Blink 182 I have ever heard. I want to know more about the factual account and am “punished” by being made to laugh. I want to continue to laugh and am “punished” with the reality of the story - both of Titan and of our lives. 

The jokes don't let up, and sometimes you just want to pause, take a breath, catch up.

Smyth seems fully aware of this need, and takes painful advantage of it. After bombarding us with jokes about French seamen and asking what kind of expert would step into a death trap, she hits us with “but wouldn't you want to die painlessly doing what you love?”. She makes us laugh at the idea of mortgaging your house for such a trip, then asks “is there something you care enough about to risk homelessness for?” These, of course, are the least powerful examples.

There is an expectation, in jokes, that leads to a pay off when it isn’t met (or met in a way you didn’t think of). Do I want to know more about Titan? Yes. Do I want to laugh until it hurts for just a little longer? Yes. Do I want to take a risk and actually ask myself those tough questions? Well, I guess, it would probably be good for me…. These were my expectations, though, as the show came to its close, and the ultimate payoff was, well…

This show starts with a promise. And while we may get lost over the sixty minutes, this is a promise kept. As we sit down, Sophie lets us know we are preparing for descent. So if you are paying attention, you know how it ends. Because that is what The Subplot left me with. An aching side from laughing too much, and the acceptance that this show, it isn’t a joke. I wonder if any other comedy this Fringe will both leave me with a stitch and a tear in my eye. Knowing fringe, there will be, but damned if I wasn't expecting it here.

Image Supplied