FESTIVAL COMEDY | Reviews at a Glance
For full length versions of these reviews see list.co.uk/festival
Abandoman ●●●●● Like the comedy hip-hop act’s previous Fringe trips, this is a musical story that unfolds based on audience input (wear a distinctive hat at your peril). The twists this year are the addition of two members to form a full band, and a futuristic, space-age theme: you or your neighbour might end up on stage as a space pirate, rebel warrior or king of the moon. (Charlotte Runcie) Underbelly, Bristo Square, 08445 458252, until 26 Aug (not 12, 19), 8.45pm, £13.50–£14.50 (£12.50– £13.50). Adam Hess and David Elms ●●●●● Elms, softly-spoken and understated, peddles a nice line in subversive love songs but there just aren’t enough big-hitting punchlines to keep the laughter going for 25 minutes. Hess scores a higher hit rate with a more energetic performance. Taking aim at his ex-girlfriend (the break-up wasn’t mutual), he darts down tangents in a rambling series of semi-autobiographical anecdotes. (Suzanne Black) Heroes @ The Hive, 226 0000, until 25 Aug, 6pm, £5 in advance or pay what you want. Andrew Maxwell ●●●●● Banana Kingdom puts Scottish politics at its heart, flanked by brilliant flights of anecdote and witty home truths. It navigates big topics – the Catholic Church, America’s gun culture and sectarianism – with the same admirable conviction and lightness of touch lent to the enthusiastic praise of cop shows and Lederhosen. Simultaneous nourishment for the brain and laughter-glands this way lie. (Peggy Hughes) Underbelly, Bristo Square, 0844 545 8252, until 26 Aug (not 12), 7.15pm, £13.50–£15 (£12–£14). Benny Boot ●●●●● Boot’s schtick is an attempted mix of subverting the comedy form underpinned by a stream of semi-surrealist gags which Mitch Hedberg would have ditched the moment they arrived in his head. The key word here is ‘attempted’, as Boot simply fails to pull it off no matter how hard he tries. (Brian Donaldson) Underbelly, Bristo Square, 0844 545 8252, until 26 Aug (not 12), 5.30pm, £10–£11 (£9–£10). Ben Van der Velde ●●●●● In our increasingly digital-dependant society, Ben has made it his mission to try and save the handwritten letter for future generations. He soon proves himself to be a perfectly amiable host who is genuinely invested in the subject matter but he could stand to take a few more risks with his material. (Katy Spry) Underbelly, Bristo Square, 0844 545 8252, until 26 Aug (not 12), 4.10pm, £10–£11 (£9–£10). Ben Verth ●●●●● Verth’s show is loosely themed around preconceived perceptions of people. Being a ‘hairy fat bloke’, he has found himself on the receiving end of a good many examples of this, but takes the abuse in his stride and turns it into a series of comic monologues delivered in lively if easy- going manner. (Miles Fielder) Beehive Inn, 225 7171, until 25 Aug (not 15), 4pm, £5. The Beta Males ●●●●● In this well-crafted superheroic sketch comedy, the five-piece start as they mean to go on, with confidence, charm and silliness in equal measure. There’s a particularly well-executed Noo Yoik gangster skit, and a dastardly scheme from a not- unfamiliar German villain plus some wry audience interaction. There is room to add depth to jokes, which are sometimes in danger of being vacuous and selling the audience short. (Rebecca Ross) Pleasance Dome, 556 6550, until 26 Aug (not 13), 7pm, £9–£11.50 (£8–£10.50). Carl Hutchinson ●●●●● Hutchinson’s show is about stomach- turning, eyeball-twitching, blood-boiling, rage. However the general premise, that he’ll be taking us through the moments in his life where he experienced magnificent, uncontrollable indignity, is defused by each of these moments 54 THE LIST FESTIVAL 8–15 Aug 2013
Greg Proops
being not particularly rageworthy. Warming up in the latter half of the show, Hutchinson tells a cracking account of accidental train-based racism but it feels a bit too little too late. (Kirstyn Smith) Underbelly, Bristo Square, 0844 545 8252, until 25 Aug, 9.30pm, £8.50–£10 (£7–£9). Chris Fitchew ●●●●● Trashier than the trash TV it heavy-handedly mocks, this one-man cavalcade of awfulness gives camp comedy a bad name. Fitchew lamely parodies a series of telly and celebrity types, and rolls each sketch out for twice as long as necessary. He seems to expect that the mere sight of a man in drag will sustain the laughter until the next tired cliché. (Laura Ennor) Gilded Balloon Teviot, 622 6552, until 26 Aug (not 14), 3.45pm, £10–£11 (£8.50–£10). Chris Stokes ●●●●● Stokes opens a cagey set with the declaration that he’s become disillusioned with performing stand-up comedy. It makes for an unsettling start and his laidback, conversational style can’t quite paper over the unease that creeps across the room as he focuses on those irritating folk who feel they have to ‘tell it how it is’, proffering insults and character assassination under the guise of refreshing honesty. (Murray Robertson) Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 25 Aug (not 12), 7pm, £7–£9 (£6–£8). The Colour Ham ●●●●● This energetic, elastic-faced Scottish sketch trio treat us to a series of magic tricks and Irish dancing. Colin McLeod continuously wows the crowd with his spot-on mind reading skills as fellow group members, Gavin Oattes and Kevin McMahon regularly gate-crash his Derren Brown-esque attempts much to everyone’s delight and complete silliness ensues. (Katy Spry) Just the Tonic at The Caves, 556 5375, until 24 Aug (not 12–15, 19–22), 7.45pm, £8–£11 (£7–£10). Craig Campbell ●●●●● ‘Me falling off a log – you can’t get more Canadian than that,’ says Campbell of an ill- fated kayaking trip, just one of many similarly cursed escapades he relates in a roundly entertaining hour of jovial observational anecdotes. Eminently likeable, he is an old master at building rapport with the audience, managing to work crowd contributions seamlessly into a freewheeling narrative about all the injuries he’s sustained during various outdoor adventures. (Laura Ennor) Assembly Rooms, 0844 693 3008, until 25 Aug (not 12), 8.45pm, £10 (£9). Davey Connor ●●●●● This debut solo Fringe hour, Live! But Not in Your Living Room, features some pleasing chatter about young folks and their conflicting attitudes to technology and safe domestic fare about salt and binbags. It does feels somewhat inconsequential, and while the title is revealed as being more than the sum of its words, the twist is hardly of the Sixth Sense variety. (Brian Donaldson) Gilded Balloon Teviot, 622 6552, until 26 Aug (not 12), 10.15pm, £9.50 (£8.50). David Morgan ●●●●● After a confidence-shaking encounter Morgan found himself re-examining his estimation of his own beauty and that examination takes the form of an hour of jokes and anecdotes. He uses this as a very loose structure to talk about the ins and outs of gay romance and marriage. There is searching societal critique to be gleaned from his topic, but he doesn’t draw it out, preferring to remain autobiographical. (Suzanne Black) Underbelly, Bristo Square, 0844 545 8252, until 25 Aug, 7pm, £9–£10 (£8–£9). David Quirk ●●●●● This Australian comic’s hour is a reflective but largely gag-free tale of the consequences of him cheating on the woman he thought might have been the love of his life. Admittedly, the atmosphere for an hour of confessional storytelling wasn’t exactly aided by a disruptive back row but it would be quite a stretch to point the finger of blame for a lacklustre show solely towards some bored, whispering irritants. (Brian Donaldson) Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 25 Aug (not 12), 9.45pm, £8–£10.50 (£7–£9.50). Diane Spencer ●●●●● With a giddy honesty, Spencer tells us of her family home in Dorset with its sanctuary-supplying rooftop and about the burgeoning relationship with her boyfriend. In someone else’s hands it could be pedestrian stuff but Spencer invests it with wonderful turns of phrase, killer punchlines and a gleeful delight in continually over-stepping the
taste barrier. (Marissa Burgess) Gilded Balloon Teviot, 622 6552, until 25 Aug (not 13), 5.45pm, £9–£9.50 (£8–£8.50). Farce Noir ●●●●● This delightful film noir parody features a quartet of comic performers on top form. Over a breathy hour, the ridiculous plot covers the genre archetypes and clichés: the femme fatale, the maguffin, the incessant rain. The production fearlessly scales up for its absurd action scenes and, rather than stifling their invention, the cast adapt to its restrictions brilliantly. (Murray Robertson) Underbelly, Bristo Square, 0844 545 8252, until 26 Aug (not 13), 4.05pm, £9–£10 (£8–£9). Gareth Richards ●●●●● It’s tough to discover a Fringe co median who integrates nostalgia into their set. Usually the hook is something unconsidered and straightforward, pinned to the themes of being socially awkward or rejoicing in isolation. Gareth Richards does rely on these formulas, but synthesises a smart, robust commentary on the nature of becoming a performer and what fame means to us. (Andrew Latimer) Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 25 Aug, 8.15pm; 9 & 10, 16 & 17, 23 & 24 Aug, 9.30pm, £8.50–£10 (£7–£9). Gary Delaney ●●●●● Delaney will make you laugh when you don’t even want to. There’s nothing big and not much clever about his lowbrow one- liners, but through groans and cringes aplenty, he’ll get you in the end. He makes a virtue of naffness and could out- awkward any embarrassing dad, snorting and giggling at his own jokes and playfully deconstructing the comedian’s artillery of crowd-appeasement techniques. (Laura Ennor) Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 25 Aug (not 12), 9.45pm, £8–£12 (£7–£10). Giraffe ●●●●● There’s a strong tendency among contemporary sketch groups to plunder heavily from popular culture. How many times have you seen a sketch about Harry Potter or Twilight? Well, if not, don’t worry; Giraffe have got skits about both. The trio have much more joy in examples of domestic strife such as the woman being uncomfortable with her brother-in-law mooching around the house. (Brian Donaldson) Underbelly, Cowgate, 0844 545 8252, until 25 Aug (not 12), 1pm, £8.50–£9.50 (£7.50–£8.50). God, Greed and Football ●●●●● From the moment Simon Lilley walks on stage and falteringly attempts a satirical assault on the estate agents of the world, it’s clear that we’re all in trouble. Lilley has little or nothing to say about the three core elements of his very long hour and anything approaching a decent gag or a pithy argument have been said before and better. (Brian Donaldson) Just the Tonic at The Tron, 556 5375, until 25 Aug (not 13, 19), 2.20pm, £5–£6. Greg Proops ●●●●● Proops definitely does not want you to shout out during his show. When an unsuspecting punter tries to join in, the American comic hammers down the miscreant with a rabid, unsettling and wholly brilliant put-down. Having resolutely taken command of his space, Proops bounds from one topic to the next with little regard to structure or pace. Subjects could be randomly cascading from his subconscious but, no matter what he plucks at, it’s always funny. (Murray Robertson) Gilded Balloon Teviot, 622 6552, until 14 Aug, 9pm, £13.50–£14.50 (£12.50–£13.50). How Do I Get Up There? ●●●●● Besides intricate wordplay and bellowed singing, there’s also prop-based gooning around (a bag of rice as love interest, a pink balloon for a face) and physical theatre (human wheelbarrows, a large- boned man being lifted and so on). In the hands of lesser talents, these absurd snippets would be achingly hard to watch, but boosted by a strand of affectionate cruelty, Chris Forbes, James Kirk and Kevin Mains prove to be irresistible lords of the douche. (Claire Sawers) Assembly Rooms, 0844 693 3008, until 25 Aug (not 12), 4pm, £10 (£9).