At some point during Conversations with a Fried Egg, I stopped trying to make sense of what was unfolding before me and simply let it happen. Three rats and an egg debate life, hunger, and purpose in a world that feels both fantastical and oddly familiar. It’s strange, funny in bursts, and tinged with melancholy, but at times, it gets wrapped up in its own absurdism that it leaves you watching from a distance rather than being drawn in.
Absurdist theatre isn’t trying to explain the world, it’s showing what happens when logic falls apart. It puts us right in the middle of the mess and repetition that make up everyday life, the constant hunt for meaning in things that often don’t have any. It’s not really saying life is hopeless, just that it’s kind of ridiculous, and we’re all making it up as we go. The discomfort comes from seeing ourselves in that chaos, laughing one moment and wondering what on earth we’re doing the next.
And there is certainly all that happening in Conversations with a Fried Egg. Dance breaks, an egg that refuses to die, and characters entering and exiting from different sides of the stage create a frenetic rhythm that mirrors the nonsensical nature of the piece. There are some capable actors in this ensemble, particularly from Maddie Formosa as The Egg, who brings a tender vitality that grounds the madness. Costuming is well-considered, and the props fit seamlessly into the surreal setting, helping the audience navigate the mayhem without feeling completely lost.However, it was difficult to find a connection amid all the turbulence. At times, the constant movement felt more disorienting than illuminating, and some sequences of silliness seemed to drift without clear intent. While the performances and visual design were strong, the emotional thread that might have anchored the audience in the story was often hard to grasp, leaving this hovering somewhere between fascinating and frustrating.
Ultimately, Conversations with a Fried Egg is an ambitious dive into the absurd, full of energy, odd humour, and flashes of genuine tenderness. While it doesn’t always succeed in connecting the audience to its emotional core, it still offers instances that are delightfully weird and thought-provoking. For those willing to surrender to its bedlam, it’s an experience that raises more questions than it answers, sometimes intentionally, sometimes because the frenzy overwhelms.
Read our interview with the team here.
SHOW DETAILS
Venue: Meat Market, 5 Blackwood St, North Melbourne
Season: until 18 October | Tues - Sat 8.45pm
Duration: 60 minutes
Tickets: $25 Full | $20 Conc
| $18.75 Wednesday Hump Day
Bookings: Melbourne Fringe Festival
Image credit: Irene Lu
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