By Max Bradley-Cole, Film and TV Editor
In a far off land (Bristol), in a tower up above the clouds (the upstairs of the Alma Tavern), stood a brave cowboy (a shit-scared Leo Hincks). With a courageous (slightly camp) demeanour, cowboy Leo took up arms against his demons (Eli, the lighting and sound technician), in an effort to vanquish that which plagues him (the existential fear of being unfunny). Or at least that’s how my mind attempted to comprehend Leo’s erratic and masterful switches between hysterical, self-deprecating humour and profound introspection in his brilliant one-man play.
Emotional Cowboy follows Comedian and Actor Leo Hincks, although he has insisted I put emphasis on the latter, as he guides his captive, sorry captivated, audience through the funny and frantic happenings of his mind. Riddled with references, too many of which I understood, Emotional Cowboy perfectly captures the current zeitgeist, taking a deeply personal look into Leo’s psyche whilst also encapsulating the shared anxieties of how it feels to be a young person today.
The show kicked off with a short skit detailing the gruelling preparations Leo endured before his ultimate destination at the Alma Tavern. From a run-in with the Hippodrome security, to mockumentary-style, behind-the-scenes footage, and a kerfuffle with Rosa, his agent, manager, make-up artist, hairstylist, PA, and personal footstall, Leo starts the show off with a bang. As the video ends and the lights raise, text flashes up at the back, “put this on your Instagram story now.” Then a voice booms from the speaker, “ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the stage, your favourite comedian’s favourite comedian.” Emboldened by the spirit of Chappell Roan, Leo bursts on stage, immediately flocking to, and high fiving the front row, his energy is infectious, his presence floods the room, and he has this ability to immediately get any audience on his side.
This, to me, is the key to a successful performance, I’ve seen Leo perform stand-up before, typically among a line-up of other comedians, and the quality that makes him stand out is his interactivity, he doesn’t talk at you, he immediately acknowledges his audience, and from the onset you are rooting for him. When you see him erupt on to stage, you relax, you know you’re in good hands, and you don’t have to sit their head in hands awkwardly drawing out a stifled laugh for a shit joke. Instead, you prepare to clutch your sides and remind yourself where the nearest toilets are in case you pee a little bit.
And almost pee I did, as Leo guides us through his life, in a plethora of Cell Block Tango style monologues. These range from Leo detailing his early childhood days, where other children would ask for a Barbie or a Hot Wheels Car, Leo was instead asking for a SAG card and overseas representation, to a beautifully satirical bit on insufferable thespians as Leo Hincks takes on a serious play for serious people about serious things. Throughout the show, Leo’s wit is so quick and the pace so highly strung, you are unsure of what is scripted and what is improvised and as he breaks the 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th wall, you are somehow simultaneously recoiling further into your seat and on the edge of it.
A standout moment for me was when Leo’s hilariously specific torments lead him to call upon the omniscient Alexa. Leo demands she take him to his happy place, sat on the Graham Norton show with Emma Stone, Jedward, and Kate Berlant. Here, Leo begins to tell a quippy anecdote of his and Emma Stone’s time on the West End, but as he spiels he comes to the terrifying realisation that the punchline he’s been building to is… dun dun dun NOT FUNNY. “Quick! Switch! Alexa take me somewhere else!” Now we’re at the Olivier awards and Leo is nominated alongside a gaggle of megastars, one such name is Kit Connor as Rupaul in Rupual’s story. An offhand crack that made me cackle so loud a girl two rows in front of me whipped her head around so fast to glare at me it almost came of its hinges.
And yet behind this zany veneer lies a profound and deep pensiveness. Whilst heavily punctuated with humour, Leo shares with us some beautiful vulnerability, as he speaks to his fears and insecurities with gut-punching lines such as “I’m the only person that could think of the things that I hate about myself.” Something that resonated not only with me, but with everyone around me, judging by the wave of stunned silence that swept over the audience. He also shared with us the struggles he experienced after the loss of his grandma, something he initially introduces with snappy witticisms, but ultimately reveals to be a cause of deep pain. In one moment, where his anguish is building to a head, Leo calls out “play the voicemail!” Silence. A small chattering begins to build into the clear voice of an elderly woman, his grandmother, as she dotes on about him and reminds him to believe in himself, she knows he’s going to be amazing, and I think that this triumphant performance is proof. Leo should be proud of himself.
I am aware that I have probably come across as a tad sycophantic, but I was genuinely blown away by the depth and intelligence of this play, and I hope that he doesn’t leave it on the backburner because it truly is something I would love for others to see.
You can find Leo on Instagram @leohincks
