Samora Squid has been a sideshow freak artist for over 25 years, and it is now, at this year's Melbourne International Comedy Festival, that they are presenting their first solo show with Squid's Sunday Sideshow.
The show opens with a straightforward triple dislocation of their arm. Yes, really. They then shake it all about like they just don’t care. As the performance progresses, it becomes increasingly challenging to watch the things Squid does to their body. It’s an intense experience at such close proximity. That said, I noticed I was one of the few people covering my eyes or looking away - perhaps I’m more of a wuss than others. Although there was one guy who gasped "what the fuck!"
At one point, Squid walks across a small mound of shattered glass, with a microphone placed right next to it, amplifying every crunch and crack into a sharp, visceral soundscape. It is one of the most overwhelming, almost ASMR-like experiences I’ve had. To go through the rest of the routines would spoil the shock factor, but there’s a lot Squid can do with their body that they probably shouldn’t, including something that only around 300 people in the world can do.
Between acts, short animated videos play, though depending on where you’re sitting, they can be difficult to see. There are also a couple of sound glitches and delays here and there, but they oddly add to the sideshow atmosphere. The soundtrack is a mix of industrial and punk rock punctuated by delicate, almost music box-like passages and songs, which feel like they are drawn directly from Squid’s mind.
As part of a comedy festival, the question inevitably arises: is it funny? Not in a conventional, laugh-out-loud sense. These aren't slapstick circus routines; they demand concentration. That said, elements of clowning are woven throughout, and Squid allows their dry humour to emerge in the interludes.
Squid's Sunday Sideshow is spectacle, driven by control, endurance, and a fascination with the limits of the human body. It’s an unapologetically strange work that pushes those boundaries into territory most wouldn’t dare explore.
The show opens with a straightforward triple dislocation of their arm. Yes, really. They then shake it all about like they just don’t care. As the performance progresses, it becomes increasingly challenging to watch the things Squid does to their body. It’s an intense experience at such close proximity. That said, I noticed I was one of the few people covering my eyes or looking away - perhaps I’m more of a wuss than others. Although there was one guy who gasped "what the fuck!"
At one point, Squid walks across a small mound of shattered glass, with a microphone placed right next to it, amplifying every crunch and crack into a sharp, visceral soundscape. It is one of the most overwhelming, almost ASMR-like experiences I’ve had. To go through the rest of the routines would spoil the shock factor, but there’s a lot Squid can do with their body that they probably shouldn’t, including something that only around 300 people in the world can do.
Between acts, short animated videos play, though depending on where you’re sitting, they can be difficult to see. There are also a couple of sound glitches and delays here and there, but they oddly add to the sideshow atmosphere. The soundtrack is a mix of industrial and punk rock punctuated by delicate, almost music box-like passages and songs, which feel like they are drawn directly from Squid’s mind.
As part of a comedy festival, the question inevitably arises: is it funny? Not in a conventional, laugh-out-loud sense. These aren't slapstick circus routines; they demand concentration. That said, elements of clowning are woven throughout, and Squid allows their dry humour to emerge in the interludes.
Squid's Sunday Sideshow is spectacle, driven by control, endurance, and a fascination with the limits of the human body. It’s an unapologetically strange work that pushes those boundaries into territory most wouldn’t dare explore.
Read our interview with Samora here.
SHOW DETAILS
Venue: The Tote, 67-71 Johnston Street, Collingwood
Season: until 19 April | Sun 7pm
Duration: 70 minutes
Tickets: $25 Full | $15 Conc
Bookings: Melbourne International Comedy Festival
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