I always knew chick flick logic is quite questionable. But I never fully put together just how outright insane it is. Turns out it took spending time with two riots by the names of Kerry and KK, to understand the big picture. Now that I see it, It’s safe to say I’ll never look at it chick flicks the same.
Kerry and KK don’t need much to help them perform. They reimagine six mega budget chick flicks with just two black boxes, a few wigs and garments. Drawing laughs off of their humble set-up, it says something that their recreation cost a fraction of the blockbusters’ while managing to make their show ten times better than the source material. All they needed was themselves and the ruthlessly spot-on commentary that ingeniously makes clear what was right in front of you all along. Unenchanted by the traps of movie magic, the duo deconstruct the unrealistic expectations surrounding relationships, friendship, sex and women, men, those pathetic makeover scenes that teach us the line between hot or not is a ponytail. The list unfortunately goes on.
The show has the potential to be titanic level tragic, gathering and exposing the obscene absurdity fed to us from a dimension written and directed by *men*. But it’s not tragic, it’s a celebration of liberation from this twisted reality. It’s the ushering in of a new era in which we can choose to call out and reject chick flick logic that has left an invisible yet amply dangerous impression on generations of young girls to women.
So instead of lamenting, we laugh, thanks to the rock funny-bones of our fearless leaders. The carefully coordinated bits are fine-tuned yet alive and breathing, somehow avoiding the hard-to-watch quality of over-performance. Instead it was hard to look away. They’re right there with you, commanding sarcasm that rightfully patronises the patrons of chick flick logic.
The Fringe is where talent can speak for itself. It shows you don’t need much to have a good time, much like Kerry and KK don’t need much to fill an hour with hearty laughs, biting observations and surprisingly refined show dancing(!?). So when I do look back at the many mountains of chick flicks in my past, I’ll look back knowing better than to fall prey to the traps of chick flick logic. Instead I’ll think of Kerry, KK, and how they managed to dance on the graves of a universe written and directed by *men*.
Six Chick Flicks… Or a Legally Blonde Pretty Woman Dirty Danced on the Beaches While Writing a Notebook on the Titanic
20:25 @ Underbelly, Bristo Square – Ermintrude
Until August 28
