This show is one you’ll remember. Andrew O’Neill enters the show wearing bare chested, demon horns curving upwards from his head, a censer swinging from his hand as he strides through the audience, slowly chanting a spell. The spell is addressed to Mercury, the Roman god of poetry, luck, and a divine guide for souls. O’Neill, after his appearance, explains that the spell was not entirely an act, and that he has performed it previously in a genuine ritual. All I can say is that if he wanted to improve his performance skills and give himself guidance, it’s worked.

O’Neill’s performance style is confrontational, loud, and brutally funny. “Brutally funny” because there isn’t a better way I can phrase it. He is funny at you, not to you. You’re not entirely sure what’s happening, you don’t know why you’re laughing this much, and you’re not entirely sure why he’s yelling. O’Neill commands your attention with wide-eyed mania, yelling out non-sequiturs that are later brought into the fold of a joke. He performs with a manner reminiscent of the metal bands whose names run down his jeans. His vocal delivery puts raw energy through you, so you cannot help but give him your attention.

While I would recommend earplugs to prevent tinnitus, O’Neill should be on your list for this year. His show is nothing short of, well, magick. It is a loud display of energy backed by a clear idea, a rare case at the Fringe