Review: Sexatron, Greenside @ George Street

I’m not too sure what I was expecting from a show that didn’t start until 11.20pm, with a title like that, and whose blurb talked of a sex robot that was no longer interested in sex but rather wanted to be a superhero. But in hindsight, maybe what I watched shouldn’t have surprised me too much! It is also a show that fits perfectly for that time slot, when expectations are perhaps lower, and plenty of alcohol has been consumed. Trust me, this is a show you might want to be just a little drunk for.

Sexatron has some of the lowest production values I’ve seen for a long, long time. Which would be an issue if you didn’t sense that this might be entirely intentional. Sexatron’s (Journey Maranto) crime-fighting costume is literally falling apart as she rushes around: the silver foil she is wrapped in is slowly peeling away, the breastplate is in need of constant readjustment, and the control panel on her wrist is similar and eventually has to be removed and placed on the side. Now this is the end of the Edinburgh run, so it’s quite possible that in earlier performances things looked a little more professional, but part of me thinks not. It’s utterly slap-dash and utterly hilarious. 

Maranto is fully committed to her role, no matter how absurd it gets. Well, actually, it doesn’t get absurd so much as it starts at that point and never lets up. From very early on, she is throwing suction cup dildos around the stage, trying to get them to stick to the floor, something that gets a loud cheer each time she succeeds.

There is, remarkably, some sort of plot in all this madness. Invented as a sex robot, due to some programming glitch she (well, actually it might be he, it might be they, it might be it, I’m not sure how you gender a sex robot with multiple sex organs!) goes off sex and instead decides she wants to fight crime. An opening villain is ultimately vanquished with the help of the audience, who increase Sexatron’s powers by touching her breasts. I think by now you should have an idea just how base much of the humour is here. 

Maranto tells us at the end that the plan is to bring the show back to Edinburgh next year. If that is to be the case, as much as it is just a lot of stupid fun right now, you’d hope that they use the next twelve months to work out how to tighten it up into something that might still look chaotic but has stronger structure to hold things together and give it greater appeal. The outfit certainly needs tidying up; as funny as it is to watch it fall apart mid-show, it does mean Maranto is constantly having to work around the issue and not focus 100% on her performance. Likewise, there needs to be better scripting to ensure things don’t go too far off the planned track. A show like this will always have large elements of ad-lib; the large amount of audience interaction will control it to some degree, but it still needs a solid core for the team to work around and allow the show to go in the right direction. 

For an 11.20pm show, with very low expectations, Sexatron is a wonderful way to end the night. If you see one-star reviews for this show, do not be surprised; it really is terrible in so many ways. But surely, it is meant to be so. Maranto’s energy and enthusiasm carry this entirely, and if you are willing to just go with the flow, you’re going to have a riot of a time. Just be prepared to grope and caress her various body parts along the way.

Written by Journey Maranto and Gabe Sklan

Sexatron has completed its performances at Greenside as part of the Edinburgh Fringe