Dial M For Mushrooms Review by Scarlett Potter

That’s right! If you at all found yourself, ahem, guilty, of gossiping about a murder case at Sunday brunch or tuning into one of Spotify’s dozens of true-crime podcasts, then George Glass’s Dial M for Mushrooms has something to serve you up.

Peaking behind the curtain of the infamous Patterson mushroom murder trial that swept headlines last year, the comedy musical delivers a delightfully tongue-in-cheek snicker at the true-crime obsessed media landscape.

What the Adelaide art-rock band lacks in high-budget polish, they make up for with energetic musicality, outlandish physical gags, a fever dream cast of characters and a whole lot of mentos. The recipe of this beef wellington revolves around the Glass boys’ unique approach to the source material. What could be a cut and dry satire of Erin Patterson’s misdeeds instead lends itself to a far more interesting commentary on the lounge-room judges of the world.

The rise of true-crime as a media monolith has seen the names of OJ Simpson, Ted Bundy and Jeffery Dahamar being firmly cemented in the cultural zeitgeist, so when the ‘mushroom murders’ hit the news last year it’s no wonder that it exploded into the Australian consciousness.

But the courtroom obsession begs the question ‘Is any of this very ethical?’. In an intimate, lightly B.O scented room in the ‘Emerging Artist Share House’, the Glass boys say no – but it might be a bit bloody stupid.

Searing the beef – Giving Silly Substance

The stage is delightfully rough around the edges boasting cardboard props and a precarious fold-out table housing a mountain of mentos. The musical kicks into gear with a flurry of noise and Blue Light Disco lighting flooding giddy colour over the set as two overly enthused, under-empathetic hack journos call for ‘a little sensation!’.

The tone of the performance is immediately set – high camp and low brow – but despite the raunchy lyrics and punchy guitar licks, there is a signalling to the audience that the writers are also acutely aware of the ethical considerations that come with this subject. To our relief the performance avoids recreating or even depicting the murders. Instead we follow a neurotic bus driver, a nonsensical South African priest and an uppity pregnant woman as they struggle to the end of their jury duty fueled by coffee and mentos – a stable courtroom diet.

Set in an imagined deliberation room, the creation of our three jurors manages to decentralise the victims and crime to instead poke well meaning fun at the audience.

The jokes, erring on the side of ‘potty humour’ and absurd outrage, steer us far enough away from the case that it almost becomes fiction. The comedic stylings manage to decentralise the crime. It’s telling that we never hear the killer’s name, or where it took place – instead the musical is more interested in the obsession of a flawed public and the delicious taste of mentos.

The case becomes something made up for us to scribble all over. The musical, less of an adaptation and more cheap paper table cloth ripe for crayons.

Prepping the mushrooms – A Musical Overture

The real unique taste lies in the musical talents of George Glass. Each song creates a driving gallop in the pacing – consistently heightening the satirical stakes. We have songs about Buffalo Bill, killer women and the dangers of white pants. All which pull the audience into a state of delightfully absurdist shock at each new chorus line. Played by the performers with such straight face earnestness, even when stripping down to their jocks and mushroom capulettes to jump about the room within jiggle distance of the audience.

The vocal performances are not revolutionary – but the Glass boys never boasted about being Cynthia Erivo. The room only holds an audience of around 50 people so it’s easy to get lost in the raucous enthusiasm of the performers. Especially when the powerhouse Pud Hamilton is delivering killer guitar licks while slowly bending his maternity pants-covered bottom towards the audience.

Self accompaniment is nothing to sneer at especially with all players swapping instruments! But there is an evident vocal fatigue that creeps into the performance not helped by a luck-luster sound mix. But what could be the poison filling of this meal instead lends itself to a sense of communal high – spurred on by an almost claustrophobic mania the bass remains funky with drummer Chris Nenov somehow managing to stay in time despite a bare-bones setup and a cackling audience.

Wrap the whole thing in pastry to bake – How To Stick the Landing

Perhaps it’s a risk to lean so far into the nature of a crime whose innocent defence relied on detailing a nasty batch of diarrhea, but the Glass boys instead deem this a cornerstone of comedy – not to its detriment! In fact the blending of this gross-out physical comedy and bouncing, irreverent banter lends itself to the boyish charm the show bleeds.

But where the pastry starts to crumble is in the final act which devolves into full psychedelic insanity. While the writing has been consistently heightening, the finale doesn’t quite stick the landing, finding itself with nothing to re-ground its feet and the commentary that’s made the musical gain its gusto gets lost within its own mentos wrapper. Performer Nic Conway manages to capture an impressive descent into madness and a genuinely startling costume reveal but the scene itself lacks body. Without the continued media criticism, the musical finds itself tipping too far into the stupid side of the comedy scale- someone left the oven on and now the fire alarm is screaming.

While the rest of the show’s scruffy appearance lends itself to a DIY charm, it’s harder to ignore that the ends feel untied. Made worse that the finale is perhaps the closest we get to dancing with the murder trial, albeit in a feverish state. Whilst not enough to tip into ‘yikes’ territory, the show’s abrupt ending leaves ultimately the audience hungry for something of more substance.

Dial M for Mushrooms is certainly not high-brow theatre, but its unabashed absurdity makes it a wicked night out. While not without its pitfalls George Glass have done an excellent job of taking an obsessive society and inviting us all to laugh at ourselves.

A little bit clever, a lot ridiculous and soundtracked by some righteously funky tunes its pitfalls are not enough to detract from the fact that this wellington is hot and ready to serve!

Dial M for Mushrooms is produced and performed by comedy trio George Glass. George Glass are made of three Adelaide artists, Nic Conway, Pud Hamilton and Chris Nenov.

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Scarlett Potter attended Dial M For Mushrooms at Erskineville Town Hall on Wednesday 2 September.