Feeling Afraid As If Something Terrible Is Going to Happen review

Being a comedian is no laughing matter. It’s a craft. It’s a skill. It’s a job.

The protagonist of Marcelo Dos Santos’ one-man show Feeling Afraid As If Something Terrible Is Going to Happen is a stand-up comic (Samuel Barnett) who has never had a proper relationship. Much of his material depends on him being “professionally sad”, emotionally unfulfilled.

He spends a lot of time between gigs on a certain dating app (he won’t mention the name, but you know the ones), arranging anonymous coke-fuelled hook-ups that leave him with a creeping sense of shame. Until he meets an American with immaculate teeth and amazing musculature about whom he might actually have real feelings, with whom he might stand a chance of being happy.

The American might well be his perfect partner if it were not for an unfortunate medical condition – cataplexy, in which a person risks death if he laughs out loud – not great news for a man who makes people laugh for a living, who needs people to laugh at him.

Clad in a pink shirt with what looks like the Comedy Store logo on the back – a wide-open mouth – Barnett navigates the stage like a pro. He holds his mic like a stand-up, moves like one, winking at the audience, conspiring with them as he makes jokes about bloody cum while carefully observing how they land, always assessing his material. The thing is he can’t ever fully stop performing, can’t allow himself to feel something real.

Barnett’s character is self-destructive by nature, actively undermining his relationship with the charming American guy; even though he thinks he might be falling in love with him – maybe because of that – he still can’t resist seeking out casual sex with his exes, falling into the same old patterns.

In Matthew Xia’s well-directed production, Barnett uses the microphone as a tool. He whips the flex and trails it after him, only letting it drop to the floor during flashes of vulnerability. It’s a superbly controlled performance that capitalises on the Roundabout’s intimacy. He directly addresses the audience, capturing his character’s neediness, his fear, his many defence mechanisms. He adopts a stand-up’s mannerisms only to let then fall away, one by one, until he has nothing left, until he’s sobbing on the floor, emotionally dismantled.

Dos Santos’ play is also interested in the mechanics of comedy, of how you best deliver a line, and what makes a joke funny. It’s a cleverly constructed piece of writing, undoubtedly, and often very funny, though not as emotionally devastating as it could be. But it’s elevated by Barnett’s performance – he lifts it to the next level.