Dmitry Romanov inhabits the territory of everyday anxiety: pandemics, renovations, bureaucracy and the eternal economy class - all this becomes the raw material for a tired but vivacious standup without illusions. The main events in his worlds are the absurdity of the new rules of life, emigrant life, domestic wars over meaning and a chronic misunderstanding of what it's all for.
Romanov is not looking for the light at the end of the tunnel - rather, he sarcastically peeks at how the tunnel itself changes signs and ticket prices. His concerts are held together by a sadly familiar irony: if progress is domestic helplessness under the warm light of an IKEA lamp, then it should be fought against in a similar way. He doesn't promise revolutions, but he is well aware of the price of his own fatigue - and knows how to turn banal irritation into a performance.
