Words by Lizzy Tan.
There’s no easy way to describe GOSS – and that is its whimsy. Contemporary dancer and comedy improviser Sam Burkett’s debut show at Pleasance Futures Festival 2025, Pleasance Theatre defies categorisation, not just drawing elements from genres but proposing something fresh altogether.
Burkett begins in the audience, anonymous but very conspicuous in a red fringe cloak, part Sesame Street character, part oracle. Modulating this tension between absurdity and anticipation is Burkett’s strength. The costume flutters as they move toward the stage, feeling their way forward with believable awkwardness, never slipping into slapstick or affectation. The opening image is quickly inverted: Burkett reaches the stage, shrugs off the cloak and reveals themself: open but grounded, standing in red briefs and a fringed jacket. This gesture is lighthearted but strategically vulnerable, setting the tone for a show that invites rather than confronts its audience.
Breaking the silence – ‘Who’s Nico?’ – they ask, and tease out the first story from an unsuspecting attendee. Gossip is currency, and Burkett’s charm makes it flow. What follows is a delightful concoction of confession and comedy, scored occasionally by prerecorded tracks (including Glen Campbell’s ‘Wichita Lineman’).
It is clear that dance is integral to GOSS. Movement is not so much choreography but intuitive, embodied punctuation. Between probing and storytelling, Burkett drops into deep pliés, swings in rocking motions and whips the microphone cord playfully, creating a dreamlike sequence which mimics the flailing ecstasy of a rockstar. Sometime in the middle, they disappear behind a curtain, emerging with a quiet burlesque tease of limbs. These embodied transitions showcase Burkett’s deft navigation of an evolving (and unexpected) emotional terrain, shifting the tone from comedic/horrific/shocking to contemplative. Functionally, these interludes give the audience time to process, digest and reflect. When exchanges tip into awkward or dark territory, the movement reanchors, reminding us that Burkett is not creating spectacle, but exchange.
This embodied listening distinguishes GOSS from other formats (be they comedy, dance or theatrical). Where others might confront or provoke, Burkett coaxes. Their questions are careful, informed by consent and curiosity: ‘When did it get exciting?’ ‘What happened next?’ When an audience member shares, Burkett listens with their whole body – reacting not with punchlines but with presence. And the payoff is palpable. GOSS creates that rare, electric feeling you get when you bring a friend to a late-night show and can’t wait to whisper about it at the interval. But somehow, Burkett conjures the magic of the interval in the show itself. Their approach is less about teasing out sensational payoffs and more about tuning the emotional space so the audience’s willingness to share literally steers the course of the evening.
There is no linear sensibility, no whiff of a narrative spine or improvisational structure that guides the passing of time. What propels GOSS’ momentum is purely Burkett’s responsiveness. There’s quick-footed banter, sharp-witted social commentary (at one point comparing their theatre education to the length of police training) and dance responses. At times Burkett serves as a party host, at others a bottomless brunch confidante or a therapist with just the right amount of prodding.
In the closing sequence, Burkett invites the audience to dance on stage. This mirrors what the whole piece achieves: a subtle flipping of performance, positioning Burkett more as a curator than an entertainer. In a culture saturated by ‘immersive’ experiences that rarely depend on the interactions of real people, GOSS is refreshingly honest. It doesn’t just want you to be there – it needs you.
That need is not without risk. Burkett’s charisma is formidable, and their ability to work the room means the dynamic could easily tilt into overcontrol. But they never lose sight of the balance between curiosity and intrusion, chaos and spontaneity, provocation and sympathy.
Burkett offers something less manufactured, more porous – and ultimately more human. I look forward to more GOSS.