FESTIVAL COMEDY | Reviews
ANDREW WATTS: HOW TO BUILD A CHAP Far from another ‘dead dad’ show by this contentedly niche comic ●●●●●
Someone once heckled Andrew Watts with the word ‘niche’, which he took as an unintentional compliment, and rightly so. His unique crossbreed of humour (economics and parenting, roughly) is a specific one indeed, but if you can get on-board with his strange analyses, and stay tuned through his cricket jokes, his free show is a well-crafted delight.
A middle-aged, ex ‘high powered lawyer’ from north London who jacked it in to do something that made him happy, Watts explains toddlers, sleep deprivation and modern dating rituals using chaos theory and freakonomics. At one point he compares the devaluing of the kiss at the end of emails to the hyperinflation and devaluing of the Deutschmark in the early 20th century. He’s no expert on how to be a dad, he points out; in fact, he wrote the show by neglecting his child and buggering off to New Zealand for a stand-up tour.
He likens the Gina Ford school of child-rearing to a sinister pagan ritual where the baby is a malevolent deity to be appeased, while he fears that his son won’t make it into the right gang later in life, what with catchment-area restrictions and strict faith-based criteria for such membership. Watching his son grow up, it’s also dawning on him that ‘sons want to overthrow their parents, but equally, parents want to be overthrown’. Although he’s adamant this isn’t another ‘dead dad’ show, by the time he does slip in references to his own father, who died six years ago, it makes a meatier chunk in an otherwise light-hearted soup. His 2015 show is one for those bored of heteronormative gender stereotypes in stand-up and seeking fun, smart and dorky whimsy instead. (Claire Sawers) ■ Laughing Horse @ The Counting House , 667 7533, until 30 Aug (not 17), 8.45pm, free.
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ROB BECKETT: MOUTH OF THE SOUTH Populist fun from dependable telly comic ●●●●● WILL DURST: BOOMERAGING FROM LSD TO OMG A tribute to the unstoppable act of ageing ●●●●●
Rob Beckett is living proof of the Fringe’s power. A few years ago he was doing a free show in a pub basement and now he’s a TV regular selling out the Pleasance Dome. There are tons of good, reliable comedians on the circuit who regularly fill the panel on Mock the Week and do a solid 20 minutes on Live at the Apollo. That’s not a criticism. What’s wrong with being popular? Or populist? Beckett is a guaranteed banker. Even with a
liberal smattering of cuss words, you could happily take your mum or little brother. Beckett even acknowledges he’s not edgy and happily admits to loving big brands and staying on the beaten path. Dependable and consistently amusing, he offers no crescendos, big revelations or intricate pay-offs.
Instead, Beckett deals in cheeky-chappy observational comedy including five minutes on Kit Kats and a routine about spending Christmas with the in-laws. Proving how much of a nice guy he is, there’s even an apology offered after gently ribbing an audience member. Rob Beckett is very good at easily digestible crowd-pleasing gags and if that’s your bag, you’ll have a ball. (Henry Northmore) ■ Pleasance Dome, 556 6550, until 30 Aug (not 17), 8pm, £10–£13 (£8.50–£12).
50 THE LIST FESTIVAL 13–20 Aug 2015
Few Fringe comics in town have the pedigree of Milwaukee’s Will Durst. At the age of 63 he has seen it all, with his Edinburgh CV noting that he was the first American comic to be nominated for the Perrier, way back in the mists of 1989. You can barely blame him for the choice of subject he brings to this year’s comedy table (the differences between modern society and the era he grew up in), but it does occasionally offer some less than original insights, albeit delivered with professional aplomb. Yes, everyone knows that once upon a time there were only a handful of TV channels and that public toilets have definitely become more complicated places to negotiate. In more compelling passages, he shakes a metaphorical head at those who will come to regret their multiple tattoos, while the health and safety culture of seatbelts, bicycle helmets and bottled water gets a clip round the ear. Thankfully, Durst has a veteran’s nous that an hour about the ‘good old days’ won’t quite wash here, so instead of being a verbal attack on everything that’s wrong with millennials, he focuses movingly on celebrating his own age-group. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Gilded Balloon, 622 6552, until 31 Aug (not 18), 5.30pm, £10.50–£12.50 (£9.50–£11.50).
LUKE TOULSON: GRANDPA, HITLER AND ME A fine set that doesn’t quite know whether it’s a history lesson or stand-up show ●●●●●
Luke Toulson truly hit the jackpot in the Fringe show-material lottery: 200 letters written by his grandfather Stanley to his grandmother Kate during WW2 and unread since. Aided by a slideshow, he conveys the daily life of a conscripted soldier with a wife and young family at home. A lot of the humour comes from the incongruities: Stanley’s preoccupation with gardening and his drunken adventures seem all the more meaningful when set against the continual threat of death. This disconnection informs the whole show.
Toulson seems to think he has written a comedy show with a historical theme when it feels like a history show that happens to be funny. Chastising the audience for not laughing enough, he explains his separation of true facts followed by jokes. Counter-productively, the success of the history bits has the audience so wrapped up in the story that it’s difficult to adjust to the interjection of a gag.
But Toulson gets his money’s worth from those wartime letters, with quality storytelling winning out over hilarity. (Suzanne Black) ■ The Stand 5, 558 7272, until 30 Aug (not 17), 3.45pm, £8 (£7).