Luke Rollason’s Infinite Content is pretty indescribable, so maybe it’s better to break things down into percentages: it’s 30% audience interaction, 20% technology, and 50% good old-fashioned clowning. This comes as no surprise – Rollason has trained at the prestigious L’Ecole Phillipe Gaulier, and it shows. However, even better than his physical comedy is the sheer absurdity of his material. There are green screens and loop pedals – what more could you want from a midday Fringe show?
Granted, the “bizarre audience interaction” trope is a little haggard by now (much like the audience, in some cases), but Rollason takes this to a new level. Giving too many of his tricks away would be a crime, but suffice to say, there’s a section where one lucky member of the audience literally controls the direction of the whole show. The main thing you need to do, if you see Luke Rollason’s Infinite Content, is lean into this weirdness. Resistance is futile.
Where Rollason’s show falls a little flat are the moments of audience interaction when we’re not sure what’s expected of us – his refusal to explain it to us, choosing instead to bore into our souls with his very intense eyes, can be a little unnerving, especially for those in the first row (to his credit, Rollason knows when to stick with a participant and when to move on). But the vast majority of the time, we’re fully immersed in a wonderfully absurd hour of skits based loosely around both current and retro technology. He also makes good on his promise of infinite content – one gets the feeling that he has more than an hour of material ready to go, which is especially impressive given the sheer quantity of props he’ll be resetting every day (all of this, while also starring in another show, Privates: A Sperm Odyssey).
Paraphrasing Rollason’s own words, which he shouts while pretending to passionately kiss an equine creature of some description, this is some high-level comedy, and if you can’t take that – well, that’s your own fault.