August 18, 2026 at Monkey Barrel 3
Starting with a completely incomprehensible impression of the Oracle of Delphi performed over the uplight of an under-chin torch is a bold move. We’re less than a minute in and Lara Ricote is already planting the themes of the show in plain sight.
Behind her, three signs give us the Oracle’s three maxims: (1) Know thyself! (2) Nothing in excess. (3) Surety then ruin. Ricote will constantly refer to these, using them to help guide us through a series of autobiographical anecdotes, building towards the big messages of the show.
Lara Ricote is a comedian in complete control of every aspect of her performance. Her debut show, GRL/LATNX/DEF, won best newcomer here in 2022. It was really, really good – and she’s upped her game even more since then. Like her sister, Maya, she’s an expert clown with a disarmingly expressive physicality. Her expressions are bold and energetic, every shrug and gesture is bold and clear enough to be seen from the back row of the O2 in London.
‘You only need to understand 60% of this show,’ she tells us, handing us one of Inkiling’s main themes early on.
‘Blackout,’ she calls out, again and again, before the lights go down, and sometimes a spotlight illuminates her face, sometimes that torch again – a torch she uses to draw our attention to three pieces of cardboard on the back walls, each foreshadowing an act of the upcoming interconnected narrative.
In Inkling we get a breakup story, and the reasons for the breakup, we watch fabulously acted out conversations with her therapist and we hear about an upsetting encounter in a museum. Is it possible to enjoy something you don’t understand? she asks us more than once.
Ricote is hard of hearing, and one of the tales in the show is about meeting another hard-of-hearing comedian, albeit one perhaps on a different journey to hers. Isn’t she sick of only understanding 60 or 70 percent of everything? he asks her.
The word of mouth on Lara Ricote’s show this year has been incendiary, and the returns queue snakes up Blair Street for this emergency extra performance. People are curious about the three microphones, someone says they’ve heard the way she spills water is hilarious. None of them are ready for this bravura performance. I’m not, and I saw a work in progress version of this only a couple of months ago.
Finishing with a flourish of theatricality that brings the house down, this show is superb, and if you can beg, borrow or steal a ticket you really should.
Sarah Stringer