Review: SHENOAH ALLEN: BLOODLUST SUMMERTIME, Soho Theatre

There is a fine line between a polished theatrical performance and a public therapy session. In Bloodlust Summertime, comedian Shenoah Allen tries to find his inner dread through a series of dark, autobiographical vignettes. The result is a show that feels more like an unfinished exorcism than a coherent piece of comedy.

Allen uses a soundscape of crickets, his father’s heavy footsteps, and the recorded voices of relatives to transport the audience to his childhood in Albuquerque, New Mexico. It is an "open-door" household populated by a brain-damaged uncle, a gay father, and casual proximity to a murderer. While the atmosphere is effectively eerie, the storytelling itself is often buried under a manic, scattergun delivery.

The show’s biggest hurdle is its pacing. Allen is clearly wrestling with genuine trauma, casually mentioning that he is "off the meds" and detailing early drug use. However, he frequently interrupts these heavy moments with what he calls a "little comedy ha-ha" to lighten the mood. Such a lightening of the mood sometimes dissipates tension too soon, meaning the laugh doesn’t land and nor does an audience connect with the weight of that particular story.

By the end of the night, it isn’t clear if Allen found the "dread" he was looking for. While performing seems to offer him some personal relief from his demons, the audience is left navigating a narrative that never quite finds its footing.

There is an undeniable edge to Allen’s stage presence. He has a kinetic, slightly dangerous energy which is exciting to watch, but in its current form, this energy is too frantic to pay off. Allen gives a brave performance, certainly, but one that feels like it itself is in the process of maturing.

** Two stars

Reviewed by: Jeff Mostyn

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