Adelaide Fringe is a platform for the weird and wonderful, so it's only fitting that a bearded man deliver an offbeat, sci-fi love story while fastened to a blow-up mattress.
Stuart Bowden is the crux of this chaos and his bizarre tale of a waterlogged apocalypse is comfortable in its peculiarity. The very description evokes an image of Bowden awkwardly clambering through the crowd, mattress affixed, as he depicts an 'intrusive' post-apocalyptic navigation through a world he once knew.
With the benefit of hindsight, you'd be forgiven for your bewilderment at the evolution of the show's script. Bowden seamlessly transitions from an angelic soloist wrapped in a bed sheet to an intergalactic robot named Celeste whose gender seems ill-defined - the first of many heartfelt messages.
Bowden's steadfast conviction and commitment to storytelling give rise to an irresistible onstage presence. With shifty eyes and endless expression, Bowden takes us out the window of his apartment, into the 'ocean', and back again. And between Bowden's discussions with self and Celeste comes an understanding of life's significance. Through reflection, a forlorn Bowden explores his fondness for 'competitive' canine companion Jasmine and his ex-girlfriend Veronica.
Bowden draws great impetus from an eccentric combination of black comedy and odd sincerity. And while it may feel strangely incomplete, Bowden revels in the imperfect setting that is 'The Spare Room'. Bowden's profound improvisation creates a series of rapid-fire monologues that will resonate regardless of whether you value the show's absurdity. As he marauds the stage, Bowden captures the true essence of theatre by effectively brainstorming the show's script live on stage.
Come for the air mattress antics, stay for Celeste's prolonged farewells.
'Stuart Bowden: She Was Probably Not a Robot' performs Adelaide Fringe Festival until 13 March.
