Review: Medicine Show, Venue 13 (Venue 13)

A KIND of ludicrous blend of evangelical preacher, psychic and old-fashioned medicine man, Mr Clark is a dominant presence. Singing into an old-style mic, which hangs from the ceiling, he strums his guitar and stares out at us with his white face and wild panda eyes.

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He and Mrs Clark are with us today to sell inspirational literature (Contemporary Dance Saved My Life by Colonel Gaddafi), life-saving toiletries (“hope soap on a rope”) and to cure any broken hearts. They also track down and straighten a “wonky aura” located within the audience.

As a double act, the Clarks work well together. She pulls an item out of their well-stocked suitcase, and he cuts her dead with the slightest of droll glances. He announces a collection from the crowd, she heads out amongst us. Quite why Mrs Clark has to reveal her pants in a porn-style bend-over each time she changes her shoes, however, is a mystery.

The pre-scripted material is a little hit and miss, but there’s no denying Mr Clark has a way with an audience. If more of his natural, off-the-cuff humour could be injected into the script itself, they’d be on to a winner.

Kelly Apter

Until 25 August. Today 5:30pm.