FESTIVAL THEATRE | Reviews
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THE SONG OF LUNCH A miniature portrait of male failure ●●●●●
Driven by Robert Bathurst’s commanding performance and Christopher Reid’s elegiac poetry, The Song of Lunch celebrates and commiserates with the crisis of a man as he hopes to rekindle a lost passion. Through telling descriptive detail and melodramatic bursts of romanticism, Bathurst unveils the interior despair of a man lost in his disappointed hopes for love and meaning. Set in a Soho Italian restaurant, The Song of Lunch is a litany of frustrated sophistication, depicting Bathurst’s unnamed hero imagining that a lunch with his former lover – played with stoic aplomb by Rebecca Johnson – might redeem his increasingly desiccated soul. Confronted by her for his collection of poems describing their relationship in epic terms, he gradually unwinds, with alcohol dealing the decisive blow.
Being a melancholic elegy for both lost love and lost lunches, the script leans as much on nostalgia as poetic eloquence. Bathurst’s charisma carries the sometimes dated and wistful descriptions of kitsch restaurant fittings and a London that was already disappearing. And the central conceit – a man desperate for his fading muse – speaks less of contemporary concerns than an idealised past.
Charles Peattie’s animations provide a shifting, and sometimes suggestive backdrop, and Reid’s language is a precise analysis of both a London that is disappearing and a man’s mind as it succumbs to failure. Bathurst is charismatic and captures his protagonist’s unease, and his lack of self-awareness. Confident rather than ambitious, the production frames the poetry comfortably: the animations are often timid illustrations rather than expanding the story, and the subtle play of hope and misery remains a quiet rather than overpowering tragedy. (Gareth K Vile) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, until 27 Aug (not 13), 2.20pm, £11–£14.50 (£10–£13.50).
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A SOCKFUL OF CUSTARD Celebration of comedy pioneer ●●●●● MY KIND OF MICHAEL The rise and fall of Michael Barrymore ●●●●●
Part autobiography and part reflection on the post-war surrealist comedian, A Sockful of Custard follows the life of Spike Milligan. Displaying bouts of Milligan’s anarchic humour – which were undermined by his frequent bouts of depression – the production veers into meta-theatrical commentary on the making process, and the importance of Milligan to the performers, sometimes losing the biographical narrative beneath the mayhem but emphasising the importance of Milligan in pushing comdedy boundaries.
Paying respect to Milligan’s legacy is a hard task: known to be difficult, his disruption of expectation saw him refusing his status as national treasure, even insulting Prince Charles’ attempts to flatter him in old age. The Goon Show, still regarded as a watershed moment in British radio, defined a chaotic attitude that influenced Monty Python and its absurdism intrudes into Sockful’s more reflective moments, lending the production a suitably uneven flow. Sockful struggles to balance the elements and, like
The Goon Show, collapses into chaos at times. Yet the sincerity of the intention, and the attention to his life’s contours, even if his motivations remain obscure, push this beyond a mere hagiography. (Gareth K Vile) ■ Pleasance Dome, until 27 Aug (not 13, 20), 8pm, £10–£12.50 (£9–£11.50).
88 THE LIST FESTIVAL 8–15 Aug 2018
Nick Cassenbaum is warm and likeable in this bizarre comedic hour dedicated to the rise and downfall of entertainer Michael Barrymore. The show is a mixed bag, with nostalgic flashbacks to This is Your Life and Strike it Lucky, a vast range of celebrity impressions and a whole heap of audience interaction. Cassenbaum navigates two narratives throughout: Michael Barrymore’s life and times, as well as his own early path to a career in entertaining. The show is fun and very silly. Keyboardist and co-
performer Andy is a highlight, funnily playing the goofy sidekick and assistant. The chaotic and high energy delivery gets wearisome, however, with several less-than-seamless moments. Cassenbaum’s overall point is that clowns and entertainers are hugely important and that society is callous in its instant rejection of figures who were once much loved. It’s hard, however, to really believe his sombre delivery of this point after an hour of ‘the Celebritree’ and Cheryl Barrymore impersonations. The balance is off, making the serious moments jarring and uncomfortable.
Overall, this is an interactive, amusing performance exploring the importance of childhood heroes and Barrymore's general legacy. (Kenza Marland) ■ Summerhall, until 26 Aug (not 13, 20), 7.30pm, £11 (£9.50).
BENNY A post-mortem reflection on former TV funny-man ●●●●●
This engaging one-man show offers an insightful reflection into the life of British comedian Benny Hill. Slapstick and double entendre maestro Hill, renowned for living frugally despite immense wealth, died alone, to be discovered in his flat two days later. Liam Tobin’s performance is confident and affable as a post-death Hill delivering an aural autobiography, and the show’s success lies in the strength of the script and delivery. The rhythmic, natural writing takes the audience through the highs and lows in Hill’s quest to succeed. At times, the play does lacks pace: Hill’s treatment
of women feels slightly rushed for the sake of comedic impressions. The set is quaint, with nice nostalgic touches such as a vintage Tesco carrier bag. However, much of the show is dependent on Tobin’s impressive vocal delivery alone. The most genuine moments come from the
character’s discussion of his loneliness. The common dichotomy of fame runs through the script: what’s the point of sharing a stage or screen with millions of people, if you don’t have people to share your life with? Benny entertainingly explores what it’s like to crave the limelight, and to be rejected by it. (Kenza Marland) ■ Gilded Balloon Teviot, until 27 Aug (not 13), 3.45pm, £10–£11 (£9–£10).