Review: Aidan Sadler: Tropicana

If you have ever wanted to be fully, (and oddly enjoyably) vocally assaulted by eighties hits belted by an anthropomorphic personification of the decade, Aidan Sadler’s Tropicana is for you. It’s not quite Wham-tastic, but there are moments of Spandau-Ballet plated gold as Sadler chats us through the jukebox of their life so far. It ain’t over until George Michael sings baby, so strap in.

Tropicana enjoyed an extended run at 2021’s Fringe, however the show and Sadler themselves feel extremely green. They give us laughs (a highlight being a rant about Times article’s inappropriate use of their face) and genuine poignancy – but there is no arc, leaving the flow unfocused and clunky. Sadler relies a great deal on audience participation but is yet to grow into the improv shoes to carry it successfully. When an interaction goes off-piste, (which is likely at past 10pm, this close to the beer tent) they rigidly return to the script. There is a lack of the needed care, of holding the audience that marks out a confident performer from the inexperienced.

As a sober person, they should know better than to bring the lights up to interrogate others on their abstinence choices. Especially if they are then not going to listen to the answer. Yet, they certainly have the pipes and an exciting edge that could be utilised more, something of a demonic David Bowie-ness. The connection they create when making eye contact is purposefully uneasy, their smile dazzlingly white but sharp.