FESTIVAL COMEDY | Reviews
NARIN OZ Perplexing site-specific tale of love ●●●●●
It’s a shame to have to give anything away about this show as it’s fun to experience it with no warning whatsoever. Beforehand, I only knew that it was being performed in a car so it was easy to guess that it would be somewhat intimate. Consequently, it is with much trepidation that I approach the small, blue hatchback parked in the grounds of a church off Clerk Street where a woman in a pink tutu greets me, slightly wild-eyed, with ‘are you here for the thing?’ and invites me to jump in the back. Alarmingly, the back seats are down, there are red heart
cushions all over the place and the walls are decorated with pictures of male comedians torn roughly from the Fringe brochure. I’m soon joined by two other brave audience members and we all sit knee by knee in the back as Oz clambers on the roof; bare legs occasionally appearing at the windows. She eventually climbs in and declares the meeting of ‘Love Addicts Anonymous’ open.
There’s not a lot in the way of narrative here other than an emotional confession to being constantly distracted by boys. At only 20 minutes, there’s not a lot of time to do anything and mostly it’s improvisation. But Oz’s oddball persona is hugely likeable and though she is often intimidatingly in-your-face, often only inches away from you as she talks, it becomes strangely comfortable.
The star rating here is largely a cop-out: the show is almost impossible to rate; it depends on how you take it or where Oz herself will have taken it by the end of the festival. Regardless, it’s an exhilarating, perplexing experience; exactly what a Fringe show should be. (Marissa Burgess) ■ C south, 0845 260 1234, until 25 Aug (not 12), 2pm, 2.30pm, 3pm, 4pm, 4.30pm & 5pm, £4.50–£6.50 (£3.50–£5.50).
LAZY SUSAN Revolving set of superb sketches ●●●●●
ROMESH RANGANATHAN Comedy good guy in full-on rant mode ●●●●● RICHARD HERRING Familiar but still funny ●●●●●
Last year, Celeste Dring and Freya Parker helped cause a Free Fringe stir at the Jekyll & Hyde as part of ‘dark’ sketch group, Lebensmüde. Now, they are back as the duo Lazy Susan with an exploration of Extreme Humans. But don’t worry, there are far more sordid goings-on occurring in other new sketch shows (and yes, that means you, Gein’s Family Giftshop). The over-riding intentions of Dring and Parker towards their characters are driven by affection rather than degradation. And they have cute puppets, even if they are profanity fuelled.
Rather than a single narrative or some overarching theme, they have gone with a shorter collection of characters who continually crop up, banking on the audience being delighted when those set-ups return a couple more times. The converse, of course, means an inward crowd sigh when unfavourable scenarios are resuscitated.
Fortunately, there are no let-downs in their revolving script featuring a double denim Geordie man, posh warring siblings and a horribly fake US talk show host. If anything unites all this, it’s nothing more complicated than subtle performances and excellent writing. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 25 Aug (not 12), 7pm, £8–£10 (£7–£9).
42 THE LIST FESTIVAL 7–14 Aug 2014
Thank goodness for Romesh Ranganathan. A bad dad, fake feminist, selfish husband, boring man, he’s simply a wholly inadequate human. Or that’s what he’s peddling anyway. A bit like Doug Stanhope’s misanthropy, or Louis CK’s claims that ‘his daughter is an asshole’, you know that Ranganathan’s middle- class irritations form a grumpy crust beneath which lurks one of the good guys. Listen closely to his supremely funny rants which
trundle dejectedly through the mundane and the major: around underpaid teachers or exploited killer whales; rubbish vegan options, or overly PC parents; people posting no make-up selfies or concerned notes about Gaza on Facebook; laddish heckles which interrupt a particularly good bit of his show; or that time his smallest son dared to eat his imported American Fruit Loops when they cost £15 a box. Actually, his moral compass is working just fine. The show title, Rom Wasn’t Built in A Day, is a reminder that he’s trying to improve himself, and the job’s not finished yet. There’s a sense that we should only worry when his ranting stops. For that might be the day he’s stopped giving a shit about whether or not he’s still a good guy. (Claire Sawers) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 24 Aug (not 11), 8.15pm, £8.50–£11 (£7.50–£10).
Anyone familiar with Richard Herring’s Fringe output knows that playfulness is a key element to his work. Often this will manifest itself in him being like a kid in the back of the car demanding to know (repeatedly) whether their final destination has been reached. The result for his audience is that they will leave the theatre not able to hear ‘yoghurt’ or ‘Ferrero Rocher chocolate’ again without experiencing a cold shiver. With this year’s show, the word ‘manager’ will take on an altogether more sinister future frisson. The Lord of the Dance Settee begins as though it will be another one of those Herring shows which forensically interrogates (or nitpicks) the multi-various interpretations within a lyric or text. This time, as he confesses, there is no great theme, it’s just going to be a compilation of funny stuff. That includes dipping word for word into a story from his own Metro column about a spiky encounter with a disaffected ten-year-old.
But no one should be too hard on him for this. He’s putting on his first play at the Fringe for a long while and, in any case, an underpowered Richard Herring still easily bats away most of the August competition. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Assembly George Square, 623 3030, until 24 Aug, 10.45pm, £12–£14 (£11–£12).
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