Rating
In Sam Burkett’s GOSS, the audience is the material. Burkett possesses an alchemical talent of taking personal anecdotes and making them something that we are all in on. A survey about our favourite boy bands morphs into Burkett – hand over one eye to mimic an emo-coded sideswept fringe – re-enacting a misunderstood tween first encountering alternative rock music in a dodgeball game. Later, another audience member’s memories of competing in their small school’s choir against younger children becomes fodder for an interpretive dance as Latin pop star Ricky Martin in the same competition. ‘Put on some music, I’ll figure it out,’ Burkett gruffs as they begin gyrating – and this is very much GOSS’ ethos. Part improv, part standup, part dance, GOSS is a frame through which to access the kinds of stories we usually keep to ourselves – the formative, slightly cringe memories that are gold dust to most comedy sets.
GOSS begins with a tall column of red fringe undulating to Lupe Fiasco’s 2010s bop, ‘The Show Goes On’ as light bounce off its metallic tendrils. For all intents and purposes, GOSS’ central character is a glamourous Muppet. Burkett unveils themself in a smooth shimmy, standing before the audience in a tiny, yellow matching shirt and shorts set. ‘Surprise, it was me all along,’ they dryly announce, ‘I was in disguise… as a bush.’ The ‘nudge nudge, wink wink’ of it all is the method. Not quite sarcasm, but a self-assured, knowing sense of humour.
This first reveal is a clever invitation to get the audience to bare it all ourselves. Open-ended questions, borrowed from Burkett’s comedy background, zoom in on real moments in the audience’s lives: secondary school nemeses, childhood nicknames, coming out stories, losing one’s virginity. What makes this work is Burkett’s earnest charm and listening skills. When they press for more details, it’s not intrusive – it’s releasing a pressure valve, allowing us to be the main character of a story that has stuck with us. GOSS functions like a reverse standup set. Instead of Burkett delivering material to us, we deliver our material to them. Burkett remixes it into something worth revisiting, using their dance training to fully embody characters and scenes.
As with any therapy session, what gets offered up can veer into dark territory. At this performance, an audience member’s gleeful recounting about the rise and fall of a teen sports star soon revealed more troubling elements: school staff publicly shaming students. They didn’t shy away from naming what was wrong, but neither did they let the moment curdle. Gently redirecting the conversation toward larger themes, Burkett mused, ‘We’ve talked so much about being young, not about being adults, and that says so much about how we gossip’. It’s a great point. When the audience is probed about work colleagues and current life dramas, there was a noticeable reluctance.
Burkett’s GOSS is more a method than a show. That’s exciting. Burkett captures the best parts of improv comedy (commitment to a bit), standup (the click of recognition), and dance (the kinesthetic pleasure of embodiment) and transmutes these elements into something genuinely entertaining. Each iteration of GOSS is a new concoction – reason enough to come back for more.
Performed and concept by Sam Burkett
Directed by Tara Boland
Presented by Just Something Different Productions
GOSS has concluded its run at Bristol Improv Theatre and will next play as part of the Assembly Festival at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival from Monday 17 to Sunday 30 August 2026.
