Stop me if you've heard this one before
13 April 2017
Sad Little Man is a lot of things to Kate Wyver
Sad Little Man is advertised as stand-up tragedy. It is not that.
It is a delicate rumination on the difficulties of relationships. It is wading through a vast expanse of sadness. It is trying to understand the complexities of language. It is attempting to grasp the earth-shatteringly overwhelming devastation of loss. It is frustratingly clever. It is confusing at the end. It is something really quite beautiful.
It is the fields ahead and the fights behind. It is the empty chair. It is the way sadness can jump out at you, wanting a piggy back. It is the humour of the helium in a fast-forwarded fight. It is the same balloons deflating like a disappointing Valentine’s. It is your partner getting too drunk and passing out and a little part of you just wanting to leave them there.
It is how, when you know someone like the back of your hand, it can take a lot to look down. It is sexy side-lighting and clever physicality. It is mapping out a relationship and then having the wind blow the map away, on to a track just before a freight train rips it to pieces and squashes it with all its weight. It is the inability to help someone and it is the fear of being unable to help them. It is waiting in A&E. It is getting an Uber back and not talking. It is throwing away the rope. It is trying to sleep. It is energy and it is wit and it is the tip of a blade scarring a teardrop from the corner of your eye. It is getting there too late.
It is all of that in three-and-a-half seconds. It is really fucking intense.
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Photo credit: Giulia Delprato