Vitamin

The truism goes that good comedians are never afraid of silence. Italian physical comedian Carlo Jacucci is certainly fearless in that regard – he often seems more comfortable building wordless anticipation (just hopping around the stage) than his audience does in enduring it. Though he has an obvious talent for clowning and a likeable, mischievous demeanor, this cannot obscure the regrettable lack of substance on offer.

For much of the show, Jacucci pursues a kind of Andy Kaufman-esque anti-humour; comedy so surreal, it does not require anything close to conventional jokes or punchlines. That's the idea, anyway. The reality is an opening that drags like a tugboat anchor, as Jacucci studiously renames audience members with absurdist sobriquets, before one of them is dragged onstage to experience bafflement up close. The rest of the performance follows in a similar fashion, with laughs only intermittently achieved by the utter self-confidence with which Jacucci throws himself around.

The show contains one inarguable moment of brilliance, which comes unbidden when Jacucci transforms (via one of his frequent costume changes) into a human puppet of a caterpillar, only to find himself trapped within his own miniature stage. For a few minutes, the audience is privy to a minor masterpiece of silent comedy. Sadly, the rest of the show cannot live up to this standard, meandering through over-long dance numbers and word salad songs on the accordion. It seems Jacucci is attempting to perfect a unique formula, but is still a long way from achieving his goal.