FESTIVAL COMEDY | Reviews
NICK HELM A brilliantly bitter set to make you laugh and cry ●●●●●
There aren’t many acts that, even jokingly, can get away with naming their show One Man Mega Myth or possess the sheer audacity to construct such a massively overblown introduction. Apart from Nick Helm. For all his mock whining about always having been the bridesmaid while he’s been plugging away at the comedy scene, he’s generated quite a buzz around himself.
There are some obvious comparisons to be made here with Johnny Vegas – the sweating chubby man, the willingness to make a tit of himself, the ranting insecurities – but what makes his performance so special is its combination of disparate, unexpected elements.
The ordinarily dead time that passes as an audience file in is instead backdropped by rousing heavy metal, a melodramatic countdown and dry ice. Helm is revealed, singing and squeezed into white and blue Lycra and apparently channelling Evel Knievel. Subsequently, much of the show is laced with Helm’s trademark inability to manage his anger, systematically calling the audience twats – particularly those who he drags out of the crowd to act as his band (usually made up of fellow comedians but who, Helm bitterly notes, ‘have better things to do this year’). He’s angry too about always being the loser: four stars never five, runner-up in everything (though this rather conveniently ignores his 2011 Dave Joke of the Fringe Award victory). But then, just when you’ve got used to him calling you abusive
names, he reveals his vulnerability with a poignant segment featuring a cat and a skateboard that forces you to make a decision between wetting yourself laughing or crying in front of strangers. So here you go, Helm, here’s that extra star you so crave. You deserve it. (Marissa Burgess) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 26 Aug, 4pm, £11–£14 (£9–£12).
BACONFACE The Fringe’s worst-kept secret is out there ●●●●●
THÜNDERBARDS Giving the sketch show a really good name ●●●●● ELEANOR THOM Style-over-substance creation par excellence ●●●●●
This cult Canadian comedian with a mask adorned with bacon proclaims that his target audience is the forest dweller of the Pacific Northwest and, really, there’s little chance of anyone else understanding his references. Given that this is the biggest comedy in-joke at the Fringe, fans of Stewart Lee are the ones rolling up to take in this hour of carefully crafted silliness.
The look on the faces of a couple of bemused audience members suggests that not everyone was in on the gag, which in itself is fairly amusing. So, what would a semi-intoxicated, Rush T-shirt-wearing stand-up who believes that many more famous acts have ridden to fame on his checked-shirt tails do a show about? Well, he’d have a swipe at those comics (Louis CK, Sarah Silverman, Stewart Lee) and bitterly discuss all of the form’s innovations that he claims to have invented. What you wouldn’t expect is a very lengthy tale of being caught in a compromising position with a grizzly bear, unless you are familiar with the actual mind behind this material. (Brian Donaldson) ■ The Stand II, 558 7272, until 25 Aug, 1.20pm, £5.
38 THE LIST FESTIVAL 15–26 Aug 2013
There’s barely a dud moment in this fantastic debut hour from Matt Stevens and Glenn Moore as they whizz through a bunch of sketches held together by their undercurrent squabbling and subtle power games. With each claiming to be the cool one of the pair (they are, of course, as uncool as one another), they set off on their ‘book of stories’ with scenes of a messy break-up, two spies meeting in Berlin (‘the Paris of Europe’), with Stevens hellbent at all times on changing their name to The Bears Upstairs. Eleanor Thom certainly convinces as Bev in this delightful piece of character comedy. Aiming her sights on a television career, Thom’s alter ego stages her first Fringe show in the hope of impressing a BBC talent hunter. Whether or not Bev would impress a genuine scout is questionable: likeable and ridiculous in equal proportions, she’s a down-to-earth, busty Sheffield lass with a heart of gold and a blingtastic wardrobe to match, and imbued with a tad more self-confidence than actual talent.
The tube pickpocket and the composer of The For her Fringe debut, Bev has spent ten grand
Sound of Music being given a hard time by the film’s producer are equally as memorable, and after their brilliantly performed and hysterically written historical exhibition skit, it’s unlikely you’ll be able to hear the phrase ‘Hampton Court Palace’ in the future without doubling up. Thünderbards (seemingly with a silent umlaut)
are at the forefront of a new drive to make the sketch show vital again and there is a real invention and cunning behind their work. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Gilded Balloon Teviot, 622 6552, until 26 Aug, 1.30pm, £7–£8 (£6–£7).
on hiring a coach to take her audience on a tour of Edinburgh culminating in a boat cruise down the Water of Leith. It never happens, of course, as the vehicle breaks down and its driver can’t get parked. Perturbed but determined that the show must go on, Bev instead tells us all about herself and her life in the city formerly famous for making cutlery. If Bev wouldn’t cut it with the Beeb, surely Thom
would impress any number of TV execs. It’s easy to picture Bev fronting a faux talent or makeover show. (Miles Fielder) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 26 Aug, 3.30pm, £8–£10 (£7–£9).
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