Callate!

Oh all right then - Callate is a show of outrageous silliness that piss-takes every known cliche of Mexican cinema. There are only two things you need to know, really: the title means 'shut up' and the show is so wildly funny that that's the one thing it's impossible to do.

Scarlett, the bitch spitfire widow, makes a dead set for the newly arrived revolutionary soldier. He in turn flashes his teeth, bares his chest and teaches the put-upon Indian servant a card game where he always gets the chance to wiggle her wobbly bits.

She is always being hit or insulted by her mistress, but as with all the best stoical servants she is not averse to getting her own back. In an unbelievably physical female on female fight for instance. Or when she's accused of destroying the illusion of a lake, so swims ashore in scene-stealing style. Or particularly when she starts speaking in tongues and includes an utterly unseasonal seasonal song.

Her mistress in the meantime uses all her seductive wiles, including lying, love potions and even dying. Meanwhile our hero suffers from a jealous horse and the lack of a mother - particularly her tortillas.

The physical comedy is hilarious, the verbal comedy is wince inducing, the film inserts are perfectly tacky and the 5p spent on the set was worth every penny.

The three performers are Darina Robles, Adriana Duch and Adri'n V'zquez. Under the direction of Cal McCrystal they have produced a Mexican feast of wild comedy that deserves to be one of the hits of the Fringe.