Anyone who has seen the work of James Rowland before will have a vague sense of what they’re in for. Rowland’s signature mixture of affable friendliness, cheerful cheeky vulnerability and occasionally manic energy can put an entire crowd at ease in moments. He’s a consummate raconteur and at the same time feels like a puckish knave who snuck in the back door and is causing delightful mischief in his wake.
As has become his house style, the performance is a combination of personal asides set amidst an overarching story, punctuated with musical pieces keyed in to accentuate and score his telling. It’s a frenetic but engaging experience, as Rowland gleefully races the clock to fit it all in as a countdown ticks away behind him.
Unlike some of his previous work, the motif and theme is less overt than usual. But there's something distinctly elegiac about this new show. The title is apt in a way, despite the content never explicitly being about any form of impending doom. Instead, it’s through the multitude of small facts and anecdotes which James drops about himself and life with his partner which gives the wistful experience the sense of almost being at a wake.
This is all suffused through the interspersed retelling of a very familiar and yet unique retelling of the Robin Hood myth. Which is all part of the beauty of the performance; it’s touching on the familiar, but putting a unique spin on it.
It’s undoubtedly another great performance, but one that lacks that pinning which much of Rowland’s previous work has. A piece that sort of never quite culminates into him saying anything specific, and leaving the message up to the audience to decide. Regardless, it’s a joyful experience, and one that still stands head and shoulders above much of the fare at this Fringe.