Shenoah Allen swallows the characters that surround him. They stretch out in his face and spill out of his mouth. He’s a magnet for oddity, imitating the peculiarities of the people he’s grown up with: his grandmother’s lipstick eyebrows; his big-hearted uncle’s old-lady arm candy.
In this meandering collection of anecdotes from the comedian’s high-octane upbringing in New Mexico, Allen – best known as one half of the influential comedy duo the Pajama Men, kings of mime and improv – browses through his dressing-up box of voices, trying them on for size. He’s done this since he was a kid, he tells us, to help him get through “the tetchy bits” of life. Of which his has been extremely full.
Flashes of mime remind us of the potential of his malleable features, only sparsely used. Instead, Bloodlust Summertime, created with feral comedian Kim Noble, is a haphazard quest for the “unnamed dread” Allen’s therapist has lumped on him. Could it be from the accidental killing in his family? Or the very deliberate murders he has witnessed the immediate aftermath of? Perhaps it was the time he was told his dad was the devil and had his whole life ripped away. Allen breezes through the many strange darknesses he’s encountered, including more guns than one man should ever see, but he’s adept at plucking the funny from the foul. Though the structure of the show feels loose, there’s no shortage of wild experiences to exorcise.
Noble’s influence is felt most keenly further in, as flesh boils, fingers are severed and the gunshot count increases. The stories get darker, but they remain discreet, lacking a coherent trajectory to this cluster of personal demons. A little tech trouble is navigated with ease, but it’s indicative of a show that still feels like a work in progress, while Allen continues to pinpoint the root of that dastardly dread.
• At Soho theatre, London, until 21 February.
