To use words like delightful, hilarious, immersive – despite being accurate – would be to greatly undersell Nick Helm’s No One Gets Out Alive. The best descriptor would therefore be something along the lines of ‘what if a car crash was positive?’ in the way that the show itself is indescribably forceful and chaotic as well as the fact that we just simply can’t look away from Helm’s performance.
The hour is built up through a series of anecdotes and songs, setting individual states in which the comedy exists unto itself rather than a fluid whole, using callbacks and repetition to eventually bind elements together, jostling our memory of these in-jokes that he has with us every so often to our great enjoyment. It’s really the timing of these repeating phrases and punchlines that adds to the volume of laughter that a joke may evoke, where Helm manually cranks up the laughter, thereby giving us more opportunities for us to do so. The suddenness and perhaps randomness of their appearance can only be attributed to a formula that only Helm knows. Every time we think we understand how these anecdotes might link together, Helm introduces a rule that proves that our assumption is very much not true. We are essentially taken on a trip up and down memory lane, as he recounts on the relationships with those around him, the comedy industry and how those experiences have shaped him as a person. There is an element of self- reflection contained within the anecdotes, but it certainly takes a back seat to the heavy tone of self-deprecation that permeates a majority of No One Gets Out Alive.
Helm’s songs are quite magnificent, and he is able to turn each one into an experience unto itself with limited props and lighting. It feels like a genuine production, and often it is truly a shame that their presentation is relatively formal for what they are, so our own ability to respond however we might were it an actual concert is so limited. Although Helm does perform some of them with a wink, the 80s cheesiness is not so pronounced that we perhaps take it more seriously than Helms intends to the point where it seems less like musical comedy rather than just music.
”We are truly kept on our toes”
The best way to describe Helm’s performance would be pseudo-Dostoevskian, as Helm’s tendency to speak in paragraphs that occasionally hover around a kind of grizzled catharcism certainly evokes the comparison. A majority of his storytelling style could be described as low-energy due to how the thoroughness of which Helm recounts an anecdote can occasionally dip into lengthiness, which affects our attention-span to a degree, despite how much he makes it worth our time. Helm does set himself up as a combative performer, especially as he punctuates his material with miniature rages, but never does it come off as an insult or threat to us, but more of a chance for him to reciprocate our laughter at his expense by laughing at us himself. Helm is certainly sincere, which is odd to find in comedy, because even when he’s yelling insults at us, there’s a kind of grounded warmth. The official terminology would be that we ‘buy-into’ Helm as a performer, but it’s more than that, it’s more of a solidness that comes after meeting someone for the first time and deciding that they’re worth knowing or listening to within those first five seconds.
No One Gets Out Alive is an effortlessly funny hour, where the hilarity of the ordinary and weird is celebrated in equal measure. The stage is a natural habitat for Helm’s music, comedy and stories. We are truly kept on our toes.
By Katerina Partolina Schwartz
Photo Credit: Paul Gilby
Pepper & Salt 
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