How to be Awesome: An Introduction

If there is one thing to be said for Lou Sanders, it's that she is an immediately loveable comic. As she bursts onto the stage against a backdrop of beautifully shambolic, lo-fi special effects, her audience couldn't be any more affectionate. As she introduces cutesy puppet characters and indulges in long, rambling asides, she has all the time in the world. This good-natured crowd hangs on her every word, just waiting for the punchlines to roll.

But the jokes never come. Perhaps with How to be Awesome, Sanders is trying to achieve some sort of novel form of anti-comedy, but it lacks the required deadpan delivery. Instead, she is all nervous energy, cutesy charm and complete disorder. This is a show characterised by childlike exuberance but crucially lacking any firm foundation upon which to build. One can't help but wonder if Sanders thought she would simply be able to bounce around acting kooky for an hour without the need ever arising to pen any jokes or substantive material whatsoever. Indeed, when she does get round to delivering some material—and this point is most obvious when she talks about her teenage flirting techniques—it is unforgivably underdeveloped. 

But Sanders is a very likeable presence. Indeed, I find myself willing her to get better as she goes on. Unfortunately she doesn't. What seems to be a fresh, loose and vibrant act quickly becomes rather tired and empty. A nicely put together closing sequence cannot make up for a disappointing 50 minutes.