He’s been sober for three years now but on the surface there aren’t any obvious impacts to the sheer vigour of Tony Law’s comedic delivery. A Lost Show may be a performance without alcohol but it’s certainly not a show without Law’s trademark turbulent energy.
Referencing aspects of previous shows as though he has no recollection of them, at times it feels as though Law is an entirely new man. He certainly has a wiser and more collected vibe in general, and the show reflects this by having much less surreal, sporadic material. Instead, he alludes to more typical conversational topics such as family and heritage in the flickers between foghorn impressions and accent switching.
Law flirts with the idea of opening himself up fully to analyse his previous downfalls, noting how alcohol affected both how he performed his shows and his personal life. It's this self-awareness that takes A Lost Show away from being just an entertaining shambles. It adds a genuine childlike positivity that could uplift the most sorrowful of souls.
He’s still got all the usual chaotic gimmicks. The reveals of some of these don’t go to plan. As a result, an exciting, unsure energy arises from simply not knowing when or how this show is going to end. Law himself suggests that he doesn’t know where this plane is going to land, but that’s the thrill of it.