Adelaide-born Amos disarms the audience with his quick-wit and honest improvised quips at the expense of those brave enough to sit up front. A warmness and authenticity penetrates through his cynical lens on life, and his openness in sharing every real, gory detail of his life is generously vulnerable.
We see a young, well-dressed Aussie guy living his dream in LA amongst parties and porn stars; but are invited to see the awkward teenager with abandonment issues who just wants people to validate him.
At points , we feel like Amos’ therapist as he opens up about his complex relationship with his mother, and how that affects his career aspirations, as well as his relationships with other women. Self-admitting dual high school football captain and theatre captain, he tells these stories with the truth, depth and intimacy of a good dramatic monologue performance; peppered with the self-deprecating, realist Australian humour you’ll find at the footy club. Amos delivers plenty of belly laughs at his own expense as he muses on the problems of middle-class millennials such as living and making choices for the sake of your own image and perception of what you believe others would be impressed by.
Amos takes a swipe at ideas of political correctness and ‘wokeness’, offering some interesting commentary on the way millennials relate to both. With complete disregard for what he dubs as millennial over-sensitivity, Amos rips through material on George Pell, women’s rights and the apartheid. Presuming Amos doesn’t actually share some of the opinions he jokes on, the material is generally witty and clever; but at times crosses into distastefulness.
Almost Famos Amos is to be taken lightly and served with a drink. If you’re emotionally nosy, take in all the depth that Amos opens up to reveal; or take it at face value and just go along to enjoy an hour of big, honest laughs.
Rating: 5 stars
Catch Amos at the Rhino Room up until the 16th of March.