Depending on how un/comfortable you are in social situations, the nightmare of Jill’s Tupperware Party might start in the queue, the feeling of dread increasing as you realise there are no seats and you’re expected to mingle. From there, if you’ve ever received an out-of-the-blue message from a school friend who’s been roped into a multilevel marketing scheme, you’ll quickly get the measure of where this seemingly innocuous Stepford Wives-inflected “tupperware party” is headed.
The message is clear: You are Jill; the performers are Jill; we are all Jill. And we have gathered together to celebrate the 80th anniversary of Tupperware™ and its highest-performing salesperson.
Things take an even more cultish turn when it transpires someone has fudged the sales numbers, and a new “King Tup” is to be crowned, leaving performers Coral Bevan and Ricky Hunt to pick a sacrificial lamb from the crowd. There are shades of Edward Scissorhands to their kitsch gathering, which evokes Nicholas Roeg’s The Witches as the horror picks up steam, but for all of the show’s deranged revelry it nevertheless has room to be fleshed (ahem, excuse me, “freshed”) out.
As it stands, much of the staying power is in the hands of the audience, whereas it feels as though there’s a spoil-proof version of the show waiting to be released. That said, Jill’s Tupperware Party is a riotously good time and undeniably Fringe. Cult classic status surely awaits.
Jill’s Tupperware Party, Underbelly Cowgate, until 30 Aug, 2.35pm