Sergey Orlov builds his concerts on former disappointments and fatigue from the eternal growing up that never came. In his performances, Moscow is still a foreign city, and any attempts to understand reality are more likely to elicit laughter than answers.
Orlov cold-bloodedly dissects everyday boredom: gym, mortgage, barbershop, family crises and worries about the future turn out in his hands to be a set of dry diagnoses of the burnout era. No one here is looking for meaning - everyone is busy surviving, making up stories about life and picking at their own neuroses.
The main idea is simple - if anything has changed over the years, it's the ability to laugh through downcast hands. A real satire without unnecessary pathos and with a sincere distrust of what is usually trusted.
