Ursula Martinez: Free Admission

No, you won’t see Ursula Martinez (all of her) and her show for free.  ‘Free Admission’ is another way of saying, ‘I freely admit…’  Ms Martinez freely admits to many things over the course of her one-hour show, during which, incidentally, she builds a wall between herself and the audience.  Not a metaphoric wall (although it is that too), it’s a real wall of Breeze Blocks and cement.  It just keeps on going up until Ms Martinez disappears behind it.  And then this reverse of a ‘fourth wall’ becomes a screen and then the show goes on projected on it.

The wall is a marvellous diversionary tactic, as is the fact that she slops wet cement onto her blocks dressed in a flawless white pants suit.  We watch fascinated: where is this going?  Oh, she’s not stopping… She’s telling us little autobiographical stories, making observations, giving insights and complaints all the while, wielding her trowel with the competence of a true brickie.  Although some in the audience were inclined to guffaw, Ms Martinez’s humour is more of the wry and dry kind – and often with a sting in the tail.  She refers to her partner as ‘Princess Mental’.  Much is so-called ‘observational humour’ – the contradictions and irritations of contemporary life – sharp, but in what seems like random order – until a gag laid in earlier gets a reprise.  It seems laid back and, besides, she’s building that wall, but it is all skilfully calculated.  She knows exactly what she’s doing even if we are not too sure.  She begins many thoughts with, ‘Sometimes I think about..’ and ends with ‘… and it pisses me off.’  She tells a story of her Scots schoolteacher (she is, incidentally, a wonderful mimic) giving a solemn class on masturbation, but his description is entirely that of the male.  Ms Martinez comments, ‘You can see that I felt left out.’  Bravely, she fronts the teacher.  He admits his fault and proceeds to give another lecture, but embarrassingly beginning with, ‘As Ursula has pointed out…’  Or there’s the story of her Spanish mother, in her 80s, using Internet dating.  She’s been dating a 90-something bloke – who’s doing his PhD on… serial killers.  But Mum says (Spanish accent) that old people are using the Internet because ‘we know we don’t have much time left’.  That doesn’t get a big laugh – more of a wince.  Ms Martinez adds (and it’s a running gag) that sometimes her Mum hits the head on the nail. 

I won’t spoil the ending of the show – which I will say develops much further than the audience expects – but it involves something that the audience does expect – but not when or how - given any knowledge of Ms Martinez’s previous shows, or the pre-publicity and the poster for this one.  If you’ve seen the poster you know Ms Martinez is a strapping, healthy woman.  As usual, the shock of a naked woman, live on stage, lasts about ten seconds.  It’s another free admission and it’s in its way liberating.  Mysteriously performer and audience have become bonded through all her free (and somehow endearing) admissions and, after she gets a selfie with a startled member of the audience, she leads us out into the world.

Michael Brindley