Sam Simmons’ show is completely mad right off the bat. If you are hoping for conventional stand-up, this may not be the show for you.
Simmons continues to simultaneously baffle and entertain with Spaghetti for Breakfast
As you walk in, everything on stage is shiny, white, and looks like it’s the set of a TV advert for some kind of household product. There is a stock photo of a happy nuclear family on the table which is set for breakfast. As Simmons begins his rampage around the stage and more and more props are used, the items transform into an abnormal wonderland of bizarre prop use, like a (possibly unintentional) metaphor for the destruction of the conventional. The only real ‘theme’ to the show is the pre-recorded song Things that Shit Me, to which Simmons dances throughout, illustrating comedically each item on the list. This is the most structured and approachable aspect to the show, which is for the most part an insane caper that doesn’t appear to make any sense, though it often surprises later on when routines come together.
He finishes his show with what is more of a rant about the state of comedy than it is comedy itself, but one that is nonetheless interesting, and only a small part of a very funny hour (though it feels like he has been building to this for years). He is, at any rate, honest about what he does and his intentions, letting the audience know when we enter that this is ‘no refunds territory’, and literally opening the door for those who walk out. The subject of his ire is what he deems to be pressure from audiences to be more ‘relatable’, and the pre-recorded heckler that he uses to illustrate this (a guest appearance from the voice of Josie Long) is both funny and effective.
Ironically, the use of Things That Shit Me does make a lot of this show quite relatable, or at the very least, more so than he has previously been. Related to his questioning of his ‘type’ of comedy is a few interspersed, slightly disturbing anecdotes surrounding his childhood and his mother. These are not funny, though it is debatable as to whether they need to be. Simmons has quite deliberately inserted them into his set without attempting to make them amusing, and while it is not entirely clear what purpose they do serve, they certainly act as a reminder that not everybody can be, or wants to be, the congenial comic to whom everyone can identify.
Simmons continues to simultaneously baffle and entertain with Spaghetti for Breakfast, and his matter-of-fact way of delivering outlandish routines creates a truly surreal world in which comedy takes on whichever form Sam Simmons has decided it will.
