Lara Ricote: Inkling Review – This Fizzy Stand-Up’s Smart New Set is Her Best Yet

Lara Ricote delivers a rich and enjoyable show with "Inkling," a significant step forward from her already impressive early work. The Mexican-American comedian remains as endearing as ever, her drive to connect with the audience evident in a performance exploring how to decipher life's messages, even when they seem as indecipherable as the show itself can sometimes feel.

The show opens with a reflection on the oracle at Delphi, championing belief over pure rationality. Ricote states, "This is a show about mystery and messages," suggesting that even partial understanding, like grasping 65% of the content, is enough for appreciation. This sentiment rings true, as the reviewer often felt like they were trying to keep pace with the show's rapid shifts and abstract tangents, where Ricote’s voice would fluidly transform into bubbling water for seemingly no immediate reason.

However, there is a method to the apparent chaos, inviting the audience to make their own connections. Ricote skillfully weaves together narratives about the end of a long-term relationship and the development of a friendship with another comedian who, like her, is hard of hearing. The show prompts questions about how this condition relates to her idea of two-thirds understanding as a sweet spot and her reservations about sign language. An additional anecdote about a museum encounter where a man attempts to discuss a painting with her highlights her fascination with life’s signals and the universal difficulty in always perceiving them.

Ricote handles these diverse elements with considerable skill and a self-aware amusement at her own ambition. "Inkling" is a show about growth that doesn't shy away from silliness and excellent jokes. Highlights include Ricote's full-body impersonation of "split-tongue guy" and a comically effective visual representation of New York City. More profoundly, the show offers a real-time glimpse into Ricote's personal evolution as she gains confidence in interpreting the world and moves towards a more complete acceptance of her hard-of-hearing identity. The overall impression is that of both a person and an artist discovering themselves.

English Translation:

What a rich and enjoyable show this is from Lara Ricote, a leap forwards from her already-excellent first two shows. It finds the Mexican-American comic in as endearing fettle as ever, her urge to communicate bubbling over in a show about divining the messages life puts your way, however indecipherable they (like this show) can sometimes appear.

It begins at the oracle at Delphi, with a hymn to belief over rationalism. “This is a show about mystery and messages,” says Ricote, and if we only understand 65% of it, that need be no bar to our appreciation. And there’s truth in that – I often felt I was chasing along in the show’s slipstream. It flits and fizzes between narrative strands, Ricote abstracting her voice into burbling, and blurting water over herself, for (at least at first) minimal apparent reason.

There is reason, but it’s up to us make the connections, while Ricote recounts the end of a long-term relationship, and the beginning of a friendship with another comic who, like her, is hard of hearing. How does that condition relate to her sense of two-thirds understanding as the golden mean? And why is she so down on sign language? A further encounter, in which a man tries to discuss a painting with her in a museum, dramatises her interest in the signals life sends us, and her (and our) difficulty in always perceiving them.

Ricote weaves these sections with great command (“blackout!”), but also a goofy amusement at her presumption in doing so. This show about maturing doesn’t stint on tomfoolery and great jokes – see Ricote deploying her whole body to imitate “split-tongue guy”, or the very funny establishing shot she performs to evoke New York City. But Inkling also lets us watch her grow up as if in real time, as her confidence grows in interpreting the world for herself, and as she inches towards a fuller embrace of her hard-of-hearing identity. The sense, and it’s an exciting one, is both of a person finding themselves, and an artist too.