'Blanc de Blanc' is an evening of champagne intoxication without the hangover.
No late night kebab, no texting under the influence; simply effervescent joy. I suppose there is the crushing realisation that you cannot remain in the company of MC Monsieur Romeo and his colleagues forever, but then a life with them would get merci, I mean, messy, quickly.
Romeo, a chiselled Gallic slab of beef that moves like a gazelle, minces and tuts between the performances of a menagerie of contortionists, clowns and acrobats. Some whir from above like ceiling fans, others disappear within giant gelatinous blobs, only to emerge sans clothes.
Some segments, particularly after the interval, are the height of debauchery; all segments are lit and staged with decadence and meticulous attention to detail. The most remarkable aspect of the show is its capacity to shift gears, evoking a laugh and then a gasp; poetic wonder and then lewd slapstick. The sticky white goo that binds the whole show together emanates from within the gangly physical comedian Spencer Novich; Romeo’s foil, a depraved love child of Charlie Chaplin, Jim Carrey and every limb flailing comic in between.
By Fringe end, Adelaide will be awash with 'Blanc' selfies; a reminder of the night before, like a lounge room littered with empty magnums of the good stuff. Like a bottle of Pol Roger, a ticket to this is guaranteed satisfaction.