Rob Auton’s Jupiter is an experience that asks you to “imagine not being able to find Earth.” Taking on the role of an estate agent based on a gas giant, Auton gives a sales pitch for the planet Earth, with all its oddities and intricacies, ups and downs, and Friday nights and Monday mornings. “Occupying space between stand-up, spoken word, and childlike philosophical wonder,” Auton takes you on a winding journey through the most interesting parts of the most mundane bits of being alive. A love letter to joie de vivre, he invites the audience to look at life on Earth through the lens of an alien who hasn’t gotten so bored of it all.
Auton appears on stage in an estate agent’s pinstripe suit, illuminated by oranges and reds and backed by a smokescreen. Sections of dialogue between him and two prospective buyers drive the show forward, giving the feeling that you’re experiencing a narrative rather than passively watching a monologue. He reflects on his past on Earth in a way that feels equally fitting for a comedy show or for his own funeral: weaving witty jokes into his declaration of awe at the world, Auton eulogises a life spent containing astonishment and fighting the urge to start conversations with strangers. He remains grounded and avoids feeling preachy: “you can’t spend your whole life pinching yourself because you can’t believe you’ve got fingers—you’ve got to crack on.” The show is interspersed with moments of spontaneity that leave you wondering if they’re improvised or instances of masterfully artificial naturalness.
Jupiter also has a quality of the meta to it, with Auton constantly making a point that you are viewing a piece of performance. This seems to reflect his message that you should be aware that you’re alive, that you mustn’t let life on Earth wash over you. He changes the accents of his characters seemingly on a whim and acknowledges when heavier sections could do with a joke inserted to lighten the mood. Yet, these parts don’t feel unnatural or shoehorned in—rather like useful tools to separate different sections of the show. He sets up jokes inconspicuously, giving the impression that they are just off hand comments until they reach their pay off later in the show. He calls back to earlier sections consistently, in a way that feels cohesive and conversational.
Jupiter is a show that doesn’t necessarily know what it is, but it knows what it’s saying. If you had to find your way back home from outer space, where would you go first? Who would you look for? What sounds would you listen for? If you couldn’t look up until your 18th birthday, imagine the amazement you’d feel just to see a grey cloudy sky. Rob Auton bottles that feeling up, and leaves you looking at the world slightly differently.
Jupiter is running until 30 August at Central at Assembly Roxy.
Buy tickets here.
Image by Avalon, provided to The Student as press material.
