FESTIVAL COMEDY | Reviews
DAVID BADDIEL A perceptive and funny take on fame ●●●●●
It’s been 15 years since his last stand-up shows proper, but David Baddiel cuts a natural and confident figure on the wide open George Square Theatre stage. This comeback isn’t about boosting his pension fund (the books, radio and film work have already built him a pleasant enough nest egg, thanks), but instead he wants to get a few things off his chest about fame. The concept of celebrityhood is far removed from what it was
back when he and Rob Newman were rollerskating around Wembley Arena: chances are he wouldn’t have gone home after that gig to find an insulting message on his Twitter feed posted by a complete stranger (what with social networking not even a glimmer in Tim Berners-Lee’s eye in the early 90s).
While Baddiel insists that he’s not especially famous anymore (his finest moments here are about being mistaken for someone else, even when they have unhappy consequences), he analyses the various levels of celebrity and how it affects both the famous and those looking in from the outside. The internet may have helped artificially close the gap between the two, but to Baddiel, it’s not beneficial for either party.
While some comics return after an extended break and just cobble a show together (usually vaguely something about growing older), Baddiel rigidly and passionately pursues his theme. Yes, there’s a bit about air travel, but it’s there to highlight the topic, as do his reflections on Auschwitz, Julie Burchill’s caustic journalism, the tube, and his participation in Russell Brand’s wedding. A more than slight return, then, for an accomplished, affable comic who really deserves not to be mistaken for other beardy, bespectacled personalities. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Assembly George Square, 623 3030, until 11 Aug, 7.30pm, £15–£17.50.
REAL MACGUFFINS Magnificent hats and oddball songs ●●●●● WILL FRANKEN Lukewarm satire and little laughs ●●●●●
KEITH FARNAN An astute analysis of fear ●●●●●
Dan, Matt and Jim, AKA sketch trio Real MacGuffins, are back for another hour-long pick’n’mix of sweet, heartwarming goodness. With little more than a keyboard, bargain basement costume tat and bags of enthusiasm and energy, they tackle skits involving a diverse range of characters. Some of the rolling cast are more memorable than others, but it’d take a jaw of girder not to be tickled by a prim minister and his wife organising ‘Club 18-30’ or the Victorian class system reimagined, overseen by a magnificently behatted Isambard Kingdom Brunel.
There’s much to enjoy here: the twisty wordplay, double entendres and versatility of the lads, the palpable, sweaty thrill of their own tomfoolery. Talented singers of oddball songs, the group are also deft at rehashing and mashing up scenes to comic effect, while their camaraderie and equally warm manner and collusion with the audience are happy things to watch.
Randomness is this show’s gain: stir in imagination and graft and you’ve got a refreshing cocktail of jolliment, shenanigans and good old- fashioned joie de vivre. (Peggy Hughes) ■ Underbelly, Cowgate, 0844 545 8252, until 25 Aug (not 12), 5pm, £9–£10 (£8–£9).
42 THE LIST FESTIVAL 8–15 Aug 2013
Will Franken has been compared to a one- man Monty Python. On the evidence of this lukewarm follow-up to his acclaimed Things We Did Before Reality, he is in danger of becoming an ex-character comic. The scenarios are either not funny enough (or at all) or just played out to snapping point. In particular, the fire brigade scene where the chief officer is too busy espousing their values while a family fries in another part of town gets to its punchline early but hangs around way too long past its welcome. Dubbed a master of American satire, there is little sign of that on display here unless a ropey impersonation of Al Gore is where we’re at with the lampooning business. The title is definitely a doozy (Concert to Benefit the Victims of My Father) but for wry smile-inducing, it’s not matched across this slow hour.
There’s some stuff about visiting Wales (where the locals talk like Americans), hateful taxi drivers and a skit about Daniel Day-Lewis and cerebral palsy: hotshot satire there about a movie from 1989. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Pleasance Dome, 556 6550, until 26 Aug (not 14), 5.40pm, £8.50–£10 (£7.50–£9).
Keith Farnan’s tack is to take on big, serious topics and sieve out the comedy. In past years, he’s looked at economic crisis, sex trafficking, racism and the death penalty. For 2013, he takes on a more abstract foe: fear. Without specific institutions or individuals to rail against, his inquiry turns inwards and we are treated to his critique of how fear informs life choices, from parenting to copulation and even how we measure our self-worth in the face of fear.
Farnan does not let up, and for the entire hour, he riffs on his theme. With ease and confidence the Irishman works his crowd, making sure to take every single person in the room with him as he whips himself into a beardy, whirling dervish of comedy. Fear becomes a lens through which to examine
events in his own life and some of the most genuine and insightful moments occur when Farnan veers into personal territory. The only aspect of his performance that feels lacking is the trajectory of the narrative: there’s no big pay-off. But perhaps that just serves to illustrate a fear of endings. (Suzanne Black) ■ Underbelly, Cowgate, 0844 545 8252, until 25 Aug (not 13), 6.20pm, £9–£10.50 (£8–£9.50).
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