He’s single and ready to suck! Rhiannon McCall (Guy Montgomery’s Guy Mont-Spelling Bee, Viva La Dirt League, 7 Days) transforms into Nosferatu — a lonely vampire trying to make it in show business.
Some shows are good, some are great, and then there are shows like Nosferatu Looking For Love. This one sits in the rare category of performances that feel alive in a way that is difficult to describe. It is an easy five stars for me. It is also the kind of show that reminds you why live comedy is such a powerful medium. Anything can happen, and in this case, everything does.
This is a show where the usual rules of comedy simply do not apply. Nobody is safe. The front row is a danger zone, the back row is not far behind, and everyone in between is a potential target. Audience participation is not a gimmick here. It is the heart of the experience. Every performance becomes its own strange little universe, shaped by whoever happens to be in the room that night. No two shows will ever be the same, and that unpredictability is part of the thrill.
From the moment the lights dim and the eerie voice of Nosferatu fills the theatre, you know you are in for something unusual. The atmosphere shifts. The room tightens. The character arrives before the performer does, and the audience is pulled into a world that feels both theatrical and strangely intimate. Nosferatu does not simply appear. He materialises. He announces himself with a command that sets the tone for the entire night. Phones off. Not on vibrate. Off. It is a small detail, but it signals that this is not a passive experience. You are here to be present, and Nosferatu will accept nothing less.
Rhiannon McCall’s transformation into this lonely, theatrical vampire is astonishing. The improv she pulls off as Nosferatu is so smooth that you would swear it was scripted. Every reaction feels perfectly timed. Every shift in tone feels deliberate. Yet the spontaneity is unmistakable. She can pivot from a moment of absurdity to a moment of vulnerability without losing the audience for a second. The character is fully realised from the instant she steps into the light. It is not a costume. It is not a bit. It is a creature who has wandered through a century of cinematic history and has now found himself on stage, searching for love in the most chaotic way possible.
Nosferatu is no ordinary vampire. He carries the weight of his 1922 origins, along with the strange legacy that has followed him through the decades. There is a sense of history in the performance, but it is never heavy. Instead, it becomes a source of comedy. This forgotten figure has been unlucky in love for a very long time, and now he is trying again in a world that has changed faster than he can keep up with. Dating apps, modern romance, shifting expectations, and the constant pressure to reinvent oneself all become part of his journey.
One of the funniest twists in this version of Nosferatu is his very specific appetite. Forget the traditional bloodlust. This vampire has developed a taste for vegans. It is a clever, contemporary detail that adds a new layer to his hunger for affection and attention. It also becomes a running joke that grows funnier each time it resurfaces. It is a perfect example of how the show blends old world mystique with modern absurdity.
The brilliance of the performance lies in its subtlety and sharpness. The writing is clever, but the delivery elevates it. Every line carries a nuance that suggests something deeper beneath the silliness. The show plays with vampire tropes, but it also plays with the idea of performance itself. Nosferatu is trying to make it in show business, and the desperation that comes with that ambition becomes a source of both comedy and empathy. Anyone who has ever chased a dream will recognise the feeling. The pressure to succeed. The fear of being forgotten. The hope that someone will see you for who you truly are.
The show is described as stoopid, chaotic, and surprisingly heartwarming, and that description is completely accurate. There is a wildness to the performance that feels intentional. The chaos is not sloppy. It is crafted. It is guided by a performer who knows exactly how far to push the audience and exactly when to pull back. There are moments of pure silliness, moments of unexpected tenderness, and moments where the entire room seems to hold its breath, waiting to see what Nosferatu will do next.
The audience interaction is a highlight. Nosferatu prowls, interrogates, flirts, and occasionally torments the crowd with a gleeful unpredictability that keeps everyone alert. You are not just watching the show. You are part of it. You might even become the object of his affection, whether you want to or not. The energy in the room shifts constantly, shaped by the choices of the audience and the quick thinking of the performer. It is a delicate dance, and McCall handles it with complete confidence.
There are a few moments where the projections used throughout the show can be a little hard to read. The overhead projector adds a charming retro feel, but sometimes the visuals get lost in the mix. It is a minor detail in an otherwise seamless performance. There are also a few scenes where the nature of certain characters is not immediately clear, but the show moves quickly enough that the audience catches up without much trouble.
What stands out most is the emotional core of the performance. Beneath the chaos and the comedy, there is a genuine sense of longing. Nosferatu wants to be loved. He wants to be seen. He wants to find connection in a world that has left him behind. That vulnerability gives the show a surprising depth. It becomes more than a comedy. It becomes a story about hope, resilience, and the strange ways we try to find meaning in our lives.
And yes, it must be said. Nosferatu is far better than that other count.
By the end of the show, I found myself rooting for him. I wanted him to find love. I wanted him to succeed. I wanted him to know that someone in the audience understood him. So I will say it plainly.
Nosferatu, I would swipe right for you.
The show is part of the NZ International Comedy Festival. Find tickets to a show near you here
Review written by Josh McNally
Edited by Alex Moulton