Serving Brûlée

In fact, it’s simple: if you want to “be the brûlée,” simply follow the golden rule: Make No Mistakes. But when Lila fails to follow her own rule and catastrophe strikes the show's kitchen set, she is faced with her own humanity. When everything falls apart, will she be able to follow her own advice and keep her cool? Will her cult-like baking mantras take her through to the next commercial break?

Anandpara plays the disturbingly robotic Lila with a plastered-on smile and a creepy soft voice. That being said, her charm is so infectious, I might have to convert to the cult of brûlée. Opposite Anandpara is Hong, whose performance is adept and precise. She pulls off the scattered Michelle with comedic timing that's responsible for the vast majority of the laughs. Her little asides, her facial expressions and her straight-faced reactions to the bizarre Lila make her a very relatable lead. The direction by Chelsea B. Lockie is inventive and makes great use of this unusual performance space: it’s an actual cafeteria! I definitely wished some real cooking was going on and we were blessed by that sweet brûlée smell. (Next time maybe they’ll actually… serve some brûlée?)

Serving Brûlée feels like an extended skit, padded with extra bits (some physical comedy, some impressions). Considering the improv background of both actors, this is no surprise. It’s an off-beat show with a lot of heart and a true celebration of the Fringe Festival’s indie spirit. Though some jokes don’t quite land and the resolution feels very rushed, Serving Brûlée offers a stage for two vivacious performances.