FESTIVAL COMEDY | Reviews
MIKE WOZNIAK: ONE MAN DAD CAT BAND A fevered tale of feline smuggling and middle-class catastrophes ●●●●●
If Torquay’s Basil Fawlty had been a stand-up comedian rather than a classic 70s sitcom creation, he could have been embodied in the impotent rage of Exeter-based Mike Wozniak. It’s nothing to do with the moustache. OK, it’s partly the moustache, but mainly it's the sense that no matter what he does, an appalling middle-class calamity is just around the corner.
Two years ago, Wozniak received a thoroughly-deserved
Edinburgh Comedy Award nomination for Take the Hit, his hour which focused on the strained relationship he was enduring with his in-laws after they had moved into the marital home. In One Man Dad Cat Band, he’s ‘banging on’ about a literally unbelievable atrocity that befell him when he returned home from that Fringe run: he had inexplicably left Edinburgh with a previously undetected furry stowaway in his car boot. Proving that he’s an ‘ethical guy’, Wozniak attempts to track
down the owners of this increasingly annoyed kitty but, naturally, he comes up against one stumbling block after another. All the while, the hair-tousling bafflement heightens as events are cranked up to fevered levels of hilarity. There are two things you can always rely upon with a Wozniak show: an undiluted adoration of the English language and some stirring imagery. A third element is a host of great gags, usually heavily indebted to those first two ingredients. As an added extra for this hour, he has attempted to ‘cleanse the palate’ of this torrid tale with some interesting facts, questions chosen from categories which the comic offers us. You’ll surely leave with a better appreciation of fish erotica, military bands and Mike Wozniak’s take on personal horror. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Laughing Horse @ The Free Sisters, 622 6801, until 30 Aug (not 17), 1.15pm, free.
GEIN’S FAMILY GIFTSHOP: VOLUME 2 Tales of terror and scatological sketches fail to grip ●●●●●
VIV GROSKOP: SAY SORRY TO THE LADY A lightly entertaining trawl through the art of apology ●●●●● IMAGINE THERE’S NO BEN TARGET (IT’S EASY IF YOU TRY) A bizarre team-building exercise meets oddly liberating live show ●●●●●
The PE kit-wearing 2014 SketchFest winners jogged into Edinburgh last year to deliver a largely well-received debut hour with its gallery of monsters, microscopic detailing of life’s more repulsive moments and smattering of penile exposure. Suffering from typical second-album syndrome, Gein’s Family Giftshop can only offer a paler imitation of their brighter, Best Newcomer- nominated first volume, even if their radar for off- colour humour is still off the scale. The stage trio of Ed, Kath and Jim (you can
almost picture Kiri, the unseen fourth member, in a smoky lab somewhere, rubbing her hands and cackling in glee) once again dish the dirt with taste- worrying routines about stoning children, attempted suicide, medical abuse and sexually active fleas. As with the Late Night Gimp Fight boys, this self- imposed pigeonholing into the darker recesses of sketch comedy has become an albatross (probably a massacred one) around their collective neck. Sadly, Gein’s Family Giftshop already feels a little like an idea whose time has been and gone. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 30 Aug (not 17), 10.45pm, £7.50–£9.50 (£6.50–£8.50).
48 THE LIST FESTIVAL 13–20 Aug 2015
Since the age of five, Viv Groskop has felt the need to apologise. Now she feels the world spends way too much time doing just that and is determined to never say sorry again, she explains apologetically. It’s easy to imagine Groskop being the heart and soul of a dinner party or holding court at the tennis club but almost impossible to see her in front of a Friday-night crowd on the comedy circuit. Still, she manages to get great laughs with
some accessible stories about her life. Excessive preambles felt unnecessary as the jokes were there waiting the whole time but the effort involved in getting to them came across as laborious.
Groskop leads the way in an audience participation parlour game where everyone is invited to apologise or demand an apology from their neighbour or from the world in general. All great fun but somewhat dependent on everyone getting behind it; thankfully she is so good-natured and affable, who could refuse? She earns the biggest laughs here in a show that is more light entertainment than stand-up. (Graeme Connelly) ■ The Stand 4, 558 7272, until 30 Aug (not 17), 8.20pm, £8 (£7).
Even before Ben Target glides onto the stage in a white suit wearing a bicycle helmet and lights under his ears, you know it’s going to be an unusual performance. There’s a big suitcase up front labelled ‘This is Not Ben Target’ while the programme requested that audiences wear sensible shoes.
For the show to work he needs us to trust each other. Trust isn’t a trait usually associated with comedy audiences but he’s patient. Beginning with closing our eyes so he can swap the suit for an 80s gym instructor get-up, soon we’re in an open space high-tenning people and doing star jumps. We become the willing puppets in Target’s surreal world, patiently awaiting instructions to the extent that when he opens the suitcase to reveal a cluster of coloured sponges he only has to murmur ‘sponge fight’ and everyone starts pelting strangers.
The show plays out like a bizarre team-building
exercise. We’ve captains, we’ve tasks, we play Chinese whispers. At the world’s largest arts festival, Ben Target’s show is truly unique and oddly liberating. (Rowena McIntosh) ■ Heroes @ The Hive, 226 0000, until 30 Aug (not 18), 3pm, £5 (or PWYW).
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