Book of Love

Lindsay Benner is adorable. So much so that after a while it hardly matters what she does onstage as long as she turns her hapless Charlie Chaplin eyes on us for a reaction afterwards. It’s not an easy crowd to play: only five of us on this occasion and the show relies on audience participation (happily one game chap does a very good job as her straight man). But she performs as if she cares wholeheartedly about the fun we’re all having.

The piece is sketch-based, a Tinder tale for the Marcel Marceau generation, about a woman attempting to fall in love. Into each skit Benner weaves her juggling, balancing and clowning skills; dressed in cheesecake-pinup red with lipstick to match, she’s the soulmate for Chaplin’s tramp – graceful, clumsy and beautiful with it.

The skills are tight, the humour’s sweet and there are times when Book of Love is a sparkling little show. There’s a glorious moment early on when she’s got her chap where she wants him. Tarting herself up with lipstick, she pulls out a very particular kind of mirror. It’s a savage, mischievous touch and one that puts her in control. But after a while it feels as if Benner is playing to rather than subverting the stereotypes of gender; desperate to date, eager to please her beau, capricious, furious, crazy.

These types may have worked in slapstick silent movies but it would be good to see something a little more 21^st century today.