‘A BonQrz style seminar about how Narin Oz’s disastrous life choices made her decide to be a budgerigar – she takes the audience on bizarre journey of human folly in order to show them why life is now better being a budgerigar and reveals various methods of freeing your mind. These methods create a very effective path to become a fully brainless budgie.’
Well, yes and doh! A possible endearing bird-brain conceit is that Narin Oz’s Gonzo-Punk spelling is just a 4th wall convention(al) breech, pursuant to ruffling feathers and rattling collective cages thus enhancing her avian discourse.
Alternatively, the yoke is on her by putting every smashed egg in to her basket-case and leaving ego on her face? Whatever. A previous immersive performance saw Oz: Addicted To Love performed in a car – audience max 4 people (the queues were modest to say the least). Doors obviously locked from the outside. (Readers are invited to create themed play-lists -REM’s Traumatic For The People obviously.) Moreover, the rhetorical ‘us’ needs must be qualified. 
It may be part of the counter-culture Laughing Horse Free Fringe milieu to balance the genius (or Genie on-the-bottle) yin-yang concept by having a one man audience at a one-woman show – viz, the reviewer. Valiantly, Oz does the showbiz heroine and, well, gets on with the show – dyspeptic, anarchic, a Brecht to the future dystopia – she takes us on a budgie excremental journey through to the clashing rocks of her oh so ‘medium to large-it’ present alt.life. The ‘us’ being relative of course. As for her Cypriot relatives, let’s not even go there – just don’t.
And she shares with us more about relatives, many of them bananas – the fruit based variety that possess surprising amounts of similar DNA with us. Bonqrz = bananas. It can not be as obvious as that. Obliviously not. There are darker shades – her ‘in character’ disastrous relationships extrapolate inevitable grotesque consequences – those dysfunctional characters being ‘in’ her in disturbingly more ways than one – sometimes at the same time apparently. Is this theraputic narcissism for the self-loathing?
Desperate, disparate bugerigar existential experiences of epiphanic luminosity akin to an epidural skewered through the psyche might explain this nut-job nuanced narrative – or it could be as contrived as this review. Erkan Mustafa directed this show – she must have known what she was getting out of getting in to it.
Enigmatised by confessions improbable, hopefully impossible, The Edinburgh Reporter concedes Free Fringe ‘freak-show’ defeat but departing en-tropically wiser for it.
Only a couple of days left – do go and experience it. Surprise a friend, terminate a tired, maybe toxic relationship – a much better revenge than being dumped by text or on twitter, eh? Treat yourselves. Oz certainly needs treatment. A Trill of near life-time experience – the Theatre of the Absurd Bird seen through a cracked mirror starkly – who’s a witty girl then?
Laughing Horse @ The Mockingbird V.441
