Luisa Omielan

South Bank was hot and packed. Restaurant pavement seats were hard to get. Waiters were smiling imagining well-earned tips. I ate my mountain burger and we went into the Udderbelly compound. By 9pm we were all seated in a great homely intimate theatre space.

Music was loud and on the stage Luisa moved her body to the beats revving up a Friday party mood. Now this rude woman is at the beginning of her comedy career. Think dynamo in a silver mini -skirt. Think dangly silver earrings as big as space hoppers, voluptuous boobs, great legs and a massive brain which stores musical references, foul language, memories of depression, of sexual joy, of hateful comments and all these wrapped in leather-hard thick skin….under a roll-on.

Luisa is genius in the way she paces her show, meets the audience in shared experiences, exudes confidence and characters. Her message is “we can” and is aimed at sexually active women. She stumbles in rehearsed choreographed steps between depths of seriousness and observations about people and reaches heights of pure comedy in its delivery and timing. On the whole she is the actor on stage and we are her audience on the edge of our seats, cheering, whooping, clapping and laughing out loud. She has much to say about whoredom and depression, the male ego, and  the lack of self-esteem in a woman’s make-up. The audience will not be strangers to the sermon but it’s worth the lighten-up to get it rammed down our throats again and again until we diet no more, until we ignore the media pages about how we should be. Hollywood hype is her anathema. Her finale is stupendous.


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