Soho theatre, London
A lesser act might have struggled to follow the brilliant Sydnee Washington, but Faustin’s swaggering, gossipy shtick is superb
Has Marie Faustin blundered? Support acts are supposed to be warmup funny, not red-hot funny. Faustin’s NYC pal Sydnee Washington is red hot here, and 10 minutes in, one wonders whether Faustin might play second fiddle at her own show. It’s a measure of her ability, and confidence, that Faustin raises the comic temperature still further after Washington’s set, with a thoroughly irresistible hour on ageing, gossip and relationships v “situationships”. She makes a stellar impression: it’s hard to imagine a personality more obviously – infectiously, gloriously – cut out for standup comedy.
Does that mean she has a coherent show? Not really, but no one minds. Are all her jokes well worked? Certainly not. Several anecdotes (the one about triggering a bomb scare at a bus station; the one about auditioning for a Maybelline ad) fizzle out where one might expect a climax. But when the journey’s as much fun as this, who cares about the destination? Faustin takes enormous pleasure in her stories, animating them with self-ridiculous swagger, sassy stylings and phraseology, and the most contagious mwa-hah-hah laugh in comedy.
