list.co.uk/festival Reviews | FESTIVAL COMEDY
I AM NOT MALALA Short but sweet set about identity ●●●●● JASON COOK A broken man on his splintered life ●●●●●
COME HECKLE CHRIST Having a few cross words ●●●●●
In 2012, Pakistani schoolgirl Malala Yousafzai was shot after protesting the Taliban ban on girls attending school. Since then her global visibility has increased with TV appearances and a slew of international awards. Sadia Azmat takes a look at Malala’s reception by western media and what it has done for the depiction of Asians in general, while grounding the exploration in her own experiences. As a British / Asian Muslim, Azmat draws material from all aspects of her identity. Sometimes London comedians have trouble relating to Fringe audiences but she makes all aspects of her upbringing relatable to all. A lot of the ground covered is familiar – arranged marriages, headscarves, airport security and parental discipline – but by relating it always to her personal experiences, it never feels hackneyed. She’s so sweet and unassuming that it’s all the more delightful when she slips in some profanity or deviates into more risqué material.
It’s a short set, topping out at around 35 minutes
in which she barely pauses for breath. If you find yourself in the West End of Edinburgh and fancy watching a newer comedian find her feet, Sadia Azmat is lovely company. (Suzanne Black) ■ Laughing Horse @ Ryrie’s, 337 0550, until 24 Aug, 3.45pm, free.
At the top of Jason Cook’s solo Fringe career, he wowed audiences and critics with My Confessions and Joy, deeply personal, incredibly moving yet hugely funny shows about his family. Since then, he’s become a father and written Hebburn, a BBC sitcom about the community he grew up in, while still trying to keep his hand in with the stand-up. You get no prizes for guessing that Come Heckle Christ is a show dependent on the quality of its audience. Character comedian Josh Ladgrove props himself on the cross for (almost) the entire duration, responding to a mix of insults, theological queries and political questions (asked about the identity of the Antichrist, the Aussie doesn’t hesitate: ‘Tony Abbott’).
The stress of it all has led him to this show, Broken, For the more predictable heckles, he has a
featuring the ongoing battle between his inner child and adult responsibility. He might still traipse up and down the country to earn the family crust and help fund his wife’s further education, but all he wants for Christmas is a lightsaber from Forbidden Planet. Still, surely he’ll get respite from his woes with a family holiday? Well, not when the destination is the ‘middle-class concentration camp’ of Center Parcs. Little wonder, then, that Cook has sought solace in therapy, though his largely negative experiences with a string of counsellors also provides hearty material. Those early shows still linger fondly in the memory of those who witnessed them, and while Broken has plenty laughs and decent stories, it feels like stand- up that’s wrestling for a higher significance. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Pleasance Dome, 556 6550, until 24 Aug (not 18), 5.40pm, £8.50–£11.50 (£7–£10). few prop-based retorts prepared; there’s also an emergency contingency plan should things go silent. Those safeguards aside, though, the audience is responsible for the quality of material. Ladgrove’s responses are amusing enough (his refusal to stay in character generates some laughs), but he only really shines when someone in the audience shines first. Fortunately, with a title like Come Heckle Christ, that special someone is likely to be a professional comedian looking to do unto others. On the night of this review, it’s Jess Thom, a comic with both Tourette’s and a quick-fire absurdist wit; the night before, it was Stewart Lee (with whom, Ladgrove tells us, he had less fun). If you’re going to take a gamble on an audience-generated show, a Fringe audience is probably your safest bet. (Niki Boyle) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 24 Aug (not 18), 10.20pm, £7.50–£9.50 (£6.50–£8).
JOHN KEARNS – SHTICK Creating a confused but compelling monster ●●●●●
There’s always going to be a certain level of expectation the year after you win the best newcomer award in Edinburgh. The queue on a rainy Sunday is around the block and, as it’s free and unticketed, some of us won’t get in. Kearns’ follow-up displays his be-wigged and big-teethed alter ego’s reaction to sudden comedic success. Now people want him to perform and to go to places such as Australia. This change has made him feel disconcerted so he has chosen to perform in the same room as last year in a desire to feel ‘safe’ once more. He ponders the years of trying ‘loads of things, then I did
this,’ he says, touching his wig. ‘It worked. Now I’m stuck with it,’ he notes, reading from Frankenstein to hit the message home about the monster he’s created, regrets and now can’t get rid of. Kearns’ hapless stage alter ego sums up beautifully the often whirlwind reaction of the industry to an award win and the problems of that next show. Anticipation is certainly high and not everyone will get it: he notes that in the room there are people who are wondering why the others are laughing. Indeed, it’s not simple comedy, and Kearns is actually
beautifully mournful at times. There’s a touching poignancy as he ponders mortality observing the squeezed-out toothpaste tube in his toothless 86-year-old grandmother’s bathroom cabinet, and the old couple who used to frequent his local pub but disappeared, first the woman, then the man, some time before it was turned into a trendy bar. Elsewhere, he captures the feeling of wanting to crawl back into the cocoon of childhood, with a touching nostalgia for Paddington Bear, Wallace and Gromit, and dungarees. A truly lovely piece of work. (Marissa Burgess) ■ Voodoo Rooms, 226 0000, until 23 Aug (not 13), 5.05pm, free.
14-25 Aug 2014 THE LIST FESTIVAL 47