Blue lycra leggings aside, I would say Chris Cox is easy on the eyes, stomach and heart. As he pounced and stampeded across Q’s Rangatira stage last Saturday night, he made my eyes dart, supplied my belly with a ‘full-of-laughs-ache’ and ponder the existence of magic.
From go, Cox honestly repents his abilities as a mind reader. Then he anticipates thought after thought, and move after move. So maybe he was joking, maybe he can. Either way, it’s entertaining.
Cox oozed stage presence with his commanding pre-show voice through a loud speaker. Add legs plus all the rest and you’ve got a born showman and storyteller traversing a stage filled with his personal props. This even included a single clothes line. In the midst of his comedic hour, I couldn’t help but feel like he had us all pegged.
The audience is asked to fill in the gaps, and then decide, through kindergarten-like games, certain aspects of the woman and their relationship. Then, as though we’re in a comic Cluedo charade, Cox reviles to us – his bemused audience – that our responses were all predicted in advance. Even his inaccuracies turn out not to be inaccuracies, but rather to have been anticipated too.
Magic comedian or quippy anticipator, who knows what this young Englishman’s game is. Just know this: if you intend to be in Cox’s audience, ready yourself to hop on the Cox bandwagon and earn yourself a badge. Scouts honour, there’s a high chance of contribution, close to 1 in 5, that you will donate to the laughs personally.
Fatal Distraction is a clever, high energy game of “what if”. And Chris Cox is as self-described; aimless, mouthy, trashy, flashy, premature and rampant. But if you don’t leave wondering “how the f**k did he do that….?”, then you must have walked into the wrong show.
By Vivienne Frances Long