Maya Ricote review: Hilarious and heartfelt clowning

Edinburgh Fringe

〰️

Edinburgh Fringe 〰️

Image: Gala Ricote


by Zoe Paskett


Maya Ricote wakes up from her cryogenic sleep wide-eyed and in a cloud of vape smoke. A nonagenarian in a 25-year-old body, she’s all fake eyelashes and exaggerated curves. She speaks only a little at the start, and softly, feeling her way back into the world as she gets used to her new figure.

Frozen in time by a talent agent, she’s been thawed for one perfect day to attend an audition, as per the contract she signed. It’s everything she’s ever wanted of course!

But this debut clown show is more than skin deep, as Maya mines her former life as a telenovela actress to investigate the impact of the pressures of remaining youthful, hyper-feminine and emotionally palatable. What results is a hilarious and heartfelt story that will delight everyone and resonate with many (no previous TV careers necessary).

This is a Performance with a capital P. Her ability to express feeling through movement, and her timing are flawless and cheeky. She brings the audience in through some great set pieces that allow her to show off her range, and uses visual gags and surprising props to maximum effect. 

Ay Am has that perfect combination of physical clowning with a gripping narrative – even a gloriously chaotic action sequence – and the vulnerability that comes from really, truly letting go of expectations and constraints, opening your heart to the room and having them reciprocate. This is exactly what clowning should do, and sorry if it made me a bit emotional!

Maya moves from an identity defined by looks to something more untethered, but decided by her. When all she has known is how to be observed by other people, she asks what this has done to how she sees herself.

With all the glorious melodrama of a telenovela, she dances with the audience to a triumphant finish, ending the show a star, on her own terms.


Maya Ricote: Ay Am! is at Pleasance Courtyard, Cellar, 22:40 (not 18th). Tickets here


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Anna Leong Brophy review: A fantastically funny skewering of female tropes