Zach Adams throws so many ideas into his show that it doesn’t get the chance to develop any of them into a coherent whole. And, more crucially, he’s too busy cramming in the scenes that he forgot to leave much room for anything that’s actually funny.

The premise is that on the eve of his difficult second solo show, Perth-based Adams is trapped in a talking elevator – possibly the metaphorical sort that’s inside his own head, and must travel down through the floors before the gig can begin.

This set-up is established via a short video. Although it’s always a good idea if you have a screen in your show to place it ABOVE the heads of the front row if anyone is to have a chance of seeing it.

But from start to finish, Elevator smacks too much of a stage-school endeavour. If offers lots of opportunities for Adams to run through his emotions and talents – singing, stand-up, mime and exhibiting lots of dramatic reactions – but little for an audience to get their teeth into. It is too high concept for its own good, and winds up being confused rather than enigmatic, bafflingly fragmented rather than ambitiously wide-ranging.

Adams, the epitome of geek chic in beanie hat, home-made T-shirt and thick glasses, does offer a few good, imaginative and off-kilter gags – though too few to make it worth the effort of trying to follow his jumbled narrative. His anti-stand-up routine has a punchline about tessellation, a song about made-up trivia is nicely surreal and his patented ‘inappropriate mimes’ raise a smile. The biggest laugh, though, comes from the introduction of a toy robot he brings out – and if your best gag is battery-operated, it has to be a cause for concern.

It seems as if Adams has spent too long thinking ‘wouldn’t it be funny if…’ then belatedly trying to figure out how to stick all the disparate scenes together, rather than thinking of a solid, logical concept with a beginning, middle and end, then hanging gags on to that.

Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Melbourne, April 2007