Kate Barron: Losing Myself

Just the Tonic at The Tron (Venue 51), until 28 August ★★★★

Kate Barron’s a redoubtable performer, a frank, instinctively filthy comic who seemingly wants you to take her as she is. From an emotionally repressed, blue collar Canadian family, she came to live in London three and a half years ago. And despite some issues demarcating posh from gay in her day job, she’s settled into the dating game in England, barely having to adjust her levels of mediocre expectation.

Still hooking up with trash men then, but finding plenty of material in these unsatisfactory encounters, with a perverse, almost masochistic appetite for them. A larger lady, who recently shed a significant amount of weight, she's also had to get used to being a freshly viable target for sexual predators, the darkness of this routine forestalling any sense of triumph at her losing the pounds.

Though often dryly sarcastic in her delivery, Barron is, against all expectations, a romantic, applying a Disney filter of appreciation to quite messed up situations. However, a recent rewatch of The Little Mermaid with her niece has let the scales fall from her eyes as to its oppressively patriarchal message, her identification with the film's villain, Ursula the sea witch, more ostensibly on brand. As is being the funny fat friend in her circle of acquaintances.

This doesn’t tell the full story though. With lockdown exacerbating her issues, Barron conceived a radical plan to deal with them, one way or another, once and for all. What follows is a sincere admission of her underlying struggles up to this point and a moving appeal for empathy. Restrained in terms of laughs at this point, Losing Myself has already banked enough of those to recalibrate a dynamically funny hour into a hugely affecting one too. JAY RICHARDSON