Gus The Frog Spits Bars (One Man's Response To Existential Dread) review | Melbourne Fringe | The Motley Bauhaus

A frog suddenly finds itself hurled over 100 kilometres from its home in the River Torrens to the Clare Valley, where a mysterious curse is wreaking havoc on its residents and their land, and Gus is determined to get to the bottom of it. Gus the Frog Spits Bars (one man's response to existential dread), created and performed by Angus Leighton, is a wild, fast-paced, and absurdly funny ride, blending rap, inventive storytelling, and pure Fringe exhuberance into an adventure like no other. 

Nobody participates in a Festival because they have to. They do it because they want to. But honestly, if there were an award for the Happiest Fringe Performer, it would without a doubt go to Leighton. Watching him on stage is like catching a glimpse of unadulterated joy in motion. There’s a genuine sparkle in his eyes, a buoyancy in his step, and a warmth in his smile that makes the audience instantly at ease and connect with him.

Leighton raps his way through 13 songs(!!!), and from the first to the last, the rhythm, pacing, and cadence never falters. It’s impressive how many puns, word plays, and clever turns of phrase he has incorporated, and memorised. Leighton wisely projects the lyrics on a screen behind him, but depending on where you’re seated, some lines can be obscured. There is one song he performs as Farmer Ed on guitar that offers Leighton a well-deserved moment to catch his breath, but it doesn’t fit the mood and is an awkward detour to take us on, pulling our attention away from the show.

The story has great potential and kicks off strongly, drawing us into Gus’s world with vibrant confidence. But as it progresses, the delivery starts to work against it. Much of the narrative is rapped at breakneck speed, which, while striking from a performance standpoint, makes it increasingly difficult to keep track of what’s happening. With numerous characters, plot twists, and lyrical details flying past, the clarity begins to blur. Projecting the words is a well-considered touch, but it can’t always compensate for the sheer velocity of information, so key moments risk getting lost.

While the relentless pace gives it momentum, the spoken sections offer a chance to absorb the story and re-centre in the narrative before diving back into the next lyrical storm. Slight variation in rhythm and delivery here and there could help the story’s strongest ideas land more clearly without sacrificing the energy and absurd humour that make this so enjoyable.

The show also gestures toward themes of anxiety, purpose, and meaning, but these threads often feel overshadowed by the rapid-fire comedy and chaos. There’s a compelling concept buried here: a frog wrestling with the absurdity of existence while facing an environmental curse. However, the emotional core doesn’t fully emerge, and we’re left wondering what’s truly at stake for Gus. A clearer link between his internal distress and the external curse, how the two reflect and feed into each other, would give this greater resonance and leave a more lasting impact.

Leighton takes on all the roles throughout Gus the Frog Spits Bars, donning a green morphsuit for the entire hour to embody his amphibian protagonist. Since removing and reapplying it constantly would break the flow, he instead arms himself with simple props to represent supporting characters; a hat for Farmer Ed, or a cane for The Council. It’s a straightforward but effective visual device that helps the audience follow multiple roles, and adds a playful layer of theatricality without slowing down the show.

There’s no denying Leighton’s talent, charisma, or creative ambition. Gus the Frog Spits Bars is packed with intelligence, wit, and a love for storytelling. It’s the kind of show that thrives on Fringe spirit: bold, original, and a little chaotic. With some tightening of the narrative and a deeper exploration of Gus’s existential unease, it could evolve from a fun and frenetic curiosity into something profound. For now, it’s a joyous romp powered by a performer who obviously loves what he does, and that enthusiasm alone makes it worth hopping along for the journey.

Gus The Frog Spits Bars was performed at The Motley Bauhaus between 6 - 11 October as part of the Melbourne Fringe Festival.

Image Credit: Jack Morton