list.co.uk/festival Reviews | FESTIVAL COMEDY
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HOWARD READ Innovative animation doesn’t quite pay off ●●●●● JOHN ROBINS Wonderful portrait of ageing and anxiety ●●●●●
CAREY MARX A hilarious musing on his brush with death ●●●●●
Howard Read is no stranger to experimentation: the first to use animation in live comedy, his conceit is to perform stand-up as a cartoon character – like puppetry but with cartoons. And a ukulele. An animator as well as comedian, Read presents ‘all of human evolution on one stand-up bill’ including a mouthy pigeon, chickens, a smiting God and longstanding showbusiness partner Little Howard, all manipulated by way of whizz-bang gadgetry. Do you remember the happiest day of your life? John Robins does. The problem is that it came 12 years ago and as that occasion drifts further into history, the more idealised the memory becomes and more irritating the trials and tribulations of life as a 30-year-old get. Where is My Mind? is a glorious look at the emotional anxiety of adolescence, the physical awkwardness of ageing and the dangers of getting stuck in the past.
A tantalising and innovative idea is let down Robins is an extremely confident performer and
by its constituent parts, however. The cartoons lack appeal; impressionistic narration (Davids Attenborough and Cameron make cameo appearances) is inauthentic, and Read’s patter is patchy and strained. Centre-staging such lacklustre graphic stars both sidelines Read and distances the house. Separate clips are presented without comment and add little. But with more shows under his belt over the month to increase confidence and verve, Read should become less at sea with his grown- up audiences and do justice to his imaginative concept. (Peggy Hughes) ■ Gilded Balloon Teviot, 622 6552, until 26 Aug (not 12), 9.30pm, £10–£12 (£9–£11).
moves from self-awareness and self-deprecation to Partridge-esque levels of incredulity and indignation as he moves from tales of teenage club nights to discovering he has gout. Even when jokes don’t quite work he is quick enough to realise and run with it (a gag about arthritis becomes funny because he has to explain it). This is an honest, poignant and very funny hour,
whose only problem is structure. He doesn’t always get the flow right, but that’s a minor criticism of an otherwise excellent outing from a comedian we should be seeing a lot more of. (Gordon Eldrett) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 25 Aug, 9.30pm, £8.50–£11.50 (£7–£10).
Carey Marx would have performed his ninth Fringe show last August, except he had a heart attack (actually several of them) that almost killed him. On the strength of his triumphant return to Edinburgh this year, having a near-death experience has turned out to be a boon for him. The blackly comic, deeply personal story about his brush with mortality has provided Marx with material which perfectly suits his line in smart, shocking humour.
One has to wonder who other than Marx would
find it quite so funny that a man could pleasure himself instead of calling an ambulance in that deathly scenario. Nearly being caught by the hotel staff after having almost tossed himself off to death is only the beginning of Marx’s hilariously self-coruscating rewind through what might have been his last moments. His recounting of what did happen to him is funny enough. But it’s when Marx lets his imagination extrapolate what might have happened (and might yet still happen to him), that Intensive Carey really soars. (Miles Fielder) ■ Gilded Balloon Teviot, 622 6552, until 25 Aug (not 12), 10pm, £8.50–£9.50 (£7.50–£8.50).
JOSH WIDDICOMBE A skilful rant at trivial pursuits ●●●●●
Josh Widdicombe has come a long way fast since his first solo Fringe show in 2011. He’s since tucked under his belt a plethora of TV appearances including Mock the Week, The Last Leg, and as a regular panellist on Stand up for the Week. Confidently playing to a sell-out crowd at one of the Fringe’s larger venues, it’s easy to forget just how fresh he is to comedy. He’s certainly unperturbed on this night despite a drunken crowd’s deliberate efforts to put him off his stride, and he demonstrates the diplomacy of a saint as he defuses a potentially fractious stand-off.
Sharing the stage with Widdicombe is a table with a seemingly
random assortment of items. There’s an old analogue phone, a packet of Love Hearts, a set of passport photos and other bric- a-brac. He explains that this collection of trinkets just happened to be sat on his coffee table when his father recently turned up at his flat, causing his old man to point at the items and profoundly exclaim, ‘so, that’s what your life’s like?’ In a novel conceit, Widdicombe leaps from one item to the next,
spinning off with various rants and observations. Most of the objects carry no personal significance which is a shame as he’s at his best when he has a proper story to tell. However, most of Widdicombe’s concerns are fleeting and trivial, and he sets out his stall at the top of the show by declaring he’s ‘not a big issues comedian’. As Incidentally continues, he gets more and more irritated by problems which are strictly First World concerns, and his habit of raising his inflection over and over in exasperation is at odds with the stunningly inconsequential nature of his ire. Nevertheless, tonight’s crowd lap it up and he holds the stage with the skill of a seasoned pro. (Murray Robertson) ■ Assembly George Square, 623 3030, until 15 Aug (not 9, 14), 9pm, £12–£13 (£11–£12).
8–15 Aug 2013 THE LIST FESTIVAL 51