list.co.uk/festival Reviews | FESTIVAL COMEDY
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: J A M E S D E A C O N
SEYMOUR MACE: SHIT TITLE Wonderfully daft hour from an act who mixes bleakness with whimsy ●●●●●
AMIR KHOSHSOKHAN: SHHHHHH A surreal-ish and lacklustre hour with something for not quite everyone ●●●●● EMMA SIDI: TELENOVELA Taking a sledgehammer to an already over- wrought form ●●●●●
For anyone wondering whether Seymour Mace will ever run out of crap glove puppet routines, shonky cardboard props and flimsy game-show spin-offs, the answer is apparently no. It’s a question he asked himself quite obsessively, he confesses, agonising through the pressure of the 12-month build-up to another Fringe, where he’d have to deliver a hit show after all the inconveniently gushing praise he received for last year’s Edinburgh Comedy Award-nominated Niche as Fuck! He can relax, though. Shit Title is just as magnificently off as his growing legion of fans would hope it to be.
From his tuneless karaoke intro to ‘I Wanna Know What Love Is’, through his sensual, partially undressed mannequin hand dance, and an illustrated guide to famous Garys, Mace can’t seem to switch off once he’s up and running. And it’s a pleasure to behold. Ridiculous, mildly abusive whimsy, with references to suicide, depression, mortality and self-harm are cheerfully slotted in among ‘Cuddly Toy’ lip syncing and inflatable props. Another sublimely daft show from an outsider grandmaster at work. (Claire Sawers) ■ The Stand 2, 558 9005, until 28 Aug (not 15), 2.30pm, £9 (£8).
The term ‘anti-comedy’ has been used to describe the patently non-mainstream appeal of such diverse acts as Paul Foot, Neil Hamburger and Eddie Pepitone. But judging by the permanently awkward and occasionally static Fringe debut of Londonder Amir Khoshsokhan, this stand-up sub- sub-genre might have a brand new poster boy. With a quivering voice shot through with the power to almost make time stand still, he gingerly takes to the floor of a truly odd Fringe space which merges the whispered intimacy of a pub gig with the echoey distance of an arena show, given how far away the act is from most of his audience.
After recreating a repetitive and tedious argument between himself and his girlfriend, the buttoned-up comic stares down familial objections about the lyrics of Tupac Shakur to suggest that the late rapper’s published musings are equally as relatable to real human existence as Barry Manilow’s ‘Copacabana’. Very nearly putting the dead into deadpan, Khoshsokhan will have an appeal among those seeking something a little more lacklustre in their comedy. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Laughing Horse at Dropkick Murphys, 225 2002, until 28 Aug, 9pm, free.
The telenovela, Latin America’s highly dramatic take on the soap opera, has apparently evolved from clichéd tales of forbidden love in its early days to more satirical storylines and improvisation. Emma Sidi seems to be aiming more for the latter with character comedy featuring exaggerated Spanish accents and regular audience participation, highlighting the poignant contrast between hammy, technicolour onscreen melodrama and the monochrome mundanity of real life. The most sharply executed moments are also the
subtler ones, and come mainly when the venue is plunged into darkness and a character sits agog at the drama unfolding on an unseen TV screen. But mostly, the audience is bombarded with ‘comedy’ accents delivered sledgehammer-style, dance routines sitting on the wrong side of ludicrous, and jokes that should have been written out of the script faster than a telenovela actor asking for too much money.
By the time this show starts to hit its stride, the hour is almost over, having already veered far off course. (Emma Newlands) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 28 Aug (not 17), 8.15pm, £7–£9 (£6.50–£8.50).
ANGELA WAND: WOUNDED ANIMALS Weak hour of storytelling from self-confessed 'bad clown' ●●●●●
Angela Wand is pretty fabulous as she arrives on stage, decked in sequins and platform shoes, and channelling the wild spirit of Tina Turner. Like that great performer, she's got charisma in spades and plenty of physical presence, but this show doesn't do that talent justice.
Wand, an American living in Sweden, is a trained clown,
though we don't get to see much of that here. Instead, we get a series of vignettes from her life, from early experiences with the Catholic church in her Californian hometown to the ease of her route in getting a Swedish visa compared to the non-white friends she made in the immigration office. Wand is not afraid to approach dark topics: in the highlight
of this hour, she makes a powerful, wordless statement with a couple of whips after relating a disturbing conversation heard on a train. She's also a whizz on roller-skates: you're unlikely to see someone skate with more skill in such a small space all festival. But there isn't enough physical prowess on show, and her spoken material isn't strong enough to maintain a delicate balance between the bleak moments and laugh-out-loud funny.
Most of all, Wounded Animals feels misplaced in its late- night Gilded Balloon slot. Wand is produced by Aurora Nova, the pioneering physical theatre and circus agency that's also presenting Familie Flöz's Teatro Delusio (see review, page 83) and awesome circus affair A Simple Space this year. Wounded Animals is billed as comedy, but there isn't enough clowning to make it a physical comedy and the storytelling isn't good enough for stand-up. Wand does have a great rapport with the crowd, but her weak material can't sustain this hour. (Yasmin Sulaiman) ■ Gilded Balloon Teviot, 622 6552, until 29 Aug (not 17, 24), 10.45pm, £11–£12.
11–18 Aug 2016 THE LIST FESTIVAL 45