1 – 2 October
There’s an undeniable youthful exuberance at the heart of Pleading Stupidity, the frenetic action-comedy from Maybe You Like It. Based on the true, farcical story of two Australian gap-year students who botch a bank robbery, this production thrives on chaos. However, while the energy onstage is relentless, it sometimes sacrifices coherence and depth for sheer pace, leaving the audience breathless but not always fully engaged.
At its core, Pleading Stupidity is a whirlwind of physical comedy and absurdist humour, anchored by dynamic performances from Robert Merriam (Brad) and Jamie De Villiers (Chad). Their chemistry powers much of the production’s momentum, capturing the haplessness of their characters with precision. However, despite their comedic talent, the relentless pace and lack of tonal variation at times causes their performances to blur together. The comedy lacks the subtlety that could elevate it beyond the surface-level chaos.
Lili Herbert (Kelly) and Ellie Jay Cooper (Anna) offer strong support, though their characters feel underused, particularly given their knack for clever comedic timing. It’s a male-dominated script, and it feels like a missed opportunity to fully explore the talent across the cast.
After a somewhat slow start, the minimalist set and sound design start to complement the absurdity of the story. The physical comedy takes centre stage, with sound becoming more effective as the action ramps up, allowing the performers to find a rhythm. However, pacing remains a significant issue, with the first 15 minutes meandering through overly long exposition. Ironically, the characters themselves joke about this unnecessary build-up later in the play. Trimming this section would give the piece a tighter, more engaging start and allow the energy to build more naturally.
The cast’s hard work is undeniable. Four actors manage multiple scene changes and a variety of characters, and it’s a marathon effort. Their commitment shines, but the production sometimes feels like it’s trying too hard—eager to showcase every aspect of a complex story, instead of focusing on the gold.
Where Pleading Stupidity truly excels is in its absurdity. The FBI sequences, in particular, are sharp and genuinely funny, offering glimpses of what the production could be if it embraced this tone more fully. Comedic timing is slick, unpretentious, and realised in these moments, suggesting a show that has the potential for greatness if it can trust its more absurd instincts. There’s an underlying sense that it wants to be more than it is—whether a satirical critique of youthful stupidity or a mockumentary-style take on criminal incompetence—but it never fully commits to either direction.
Ultimately, Pleading Stupidity offers an entertaining, if somewhat exhausting, evening of theatre. It’s fun and lively, but it feels like a show still in search of its voice. With more focus, sharper editing, and a clearer sense of its identity, it could easily become a standout piece of modern fringe theatre.
★★★☆☆ Tilly Marshall, 2 October 2024
