FESTIVAL COMEDY | Reviews
NATALIE PALAMIDES 2017 Best Newcomer's blistering show about consent ●●●●●
You might expect Natalie Palamides’ portrayal in Nate to be a scathing one; for the eponymous character to be a parade of insufferable douchebaggery as a tool to explore the myriad shortcomings of men. It certainly starts that way. Riding in on a tiny bike, he throws his weight around and smashes the place up. Nate then cracks a raw egg directly into his mouth and chugs a can: you think you’ve got him figured. Then you notice the can is a Perrier, and remember Palamides
hasn’t made her name in comedy by doing the obvious thing. While Nate (a character Palamides has been working on since her college days) is depicted as a confrontational bro who likes to get blasted, he’s also oppressed and sensitive. Furthermore, he’s totally clear on – and on board with – the sexual politics of the day, workshopping consent to hilarious effect with the (mostly keen, but in some cases deeply confused) audience. ‘All you gotta do is ask,’ he says, adding: ‘it’s that simple.’ It isn’t though. An evening out takes a promiscuous turn and Nate finds himself in an unexpected position. ‘Was what I did wrong?’ There are a few murmurs in the audience but nothing is clear. It’s an extremely uncomfortable moment, and having followed an hour of masterful, hilarious character comedy, it’s an effective twist.
Palamides is sensational in this commanding and courageous
hour of performance art. The comedy, both the writing and the improv, is fantastic, and the moment where Nate’s perspective effortlessly shifts to that of the female is powerfully acted.
The show relies heavily on audience participation and Palamides controls it. ‘I hope my message was clear,’ says Nate, riding off into the sunset. This conversation has only just started. Nate is a challenging tale from Palamides who’s made that difficult second album count and then some. (Craig Angus) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, until 26 Aug, 6pm, £11–£13 (£10–£12).
SANDERSON JONES: THAT’S THE SPIRIT! Inhibition-free show ●●●●●
SHEEPS: LIVE AND LOUD SELFIE SEX HARRY POTTER A sketch comeback to celebrate ●●●●● JACK DOCHERTY: MIEKELSON AND MCGLASHAN – SERIOUS MEN Underwhelming hour from the TV star ●●●●●
A man that’s broken the Guinness World Record for the longest hug (over 25 hours) is in town to provide a communal catharsis for his congregation (or audience). Giving new meaning to ‘cult comedy’, the bearded stand-up was covered everywhere from Vice to Russia Today after he founded a secular gathering called Sunday Assembly. Promising humour so intelligent that ‘Einstein wouldn’t get it’, the Sheeps trio might not reach quite those stupendous heights, but audiences should be prepared for a frequently hilarious hour. The show opens as the threesome arrive in top hats and canes for a deliriously over-the-top opening number, crooning about how this show will be ‘good’.
He splits his show into a recap on his career so Thereafter follows a series of routines which
far followed by a short atheist sermon. Crushing together what he’s gleaned from mindfulness, pop culture, laughter therapy and church ceremonies, Jones explains the neuroscience of bliss and relaxation while inviting us to sing along to Toto’s ‘Africa’ and achieve ‘peak you!’ in a new-agey, happy-clappy finale. The forced euphoria, rousing bagpipe tunes and
life-coach vibes will be uncomfortable for some, depending on how you feel about being whispered at sensually through a mic, then being ordered to clap ‘harder, HARDER!’ But many seem to enjoy the gospel-style unleashing of inhibitions, and indeed take the sincere, excitable Jones up on his offer of a free half-hour drop-in chat afterwards. (Claire Sawers) ■ Heroes @ Boteco, until 25 Aug, noon, £5 (£4) in advance or donations at the venue.
56 THE LIST FESTIVAL 15–27 Aug 2018
easily ramp up that modest claim while a narrative continuum is provided by Daran Johnson’s off-stage relationship breakdown and his colleagues’ utter indifference to his misery. Meanwhile, the actual reason for their Edinburgh reunion (they last appeared at the Fringe in 2014) is finally revealed. Among the many highlights are a multi-layered
sketch that keeps going wrong and two British diners experiencing curious extras to a bill at a Dutch restaurant, while alt-right academic Jordan Peterson makes an appearance and a thriving tech company has to deal with its odd third wheel. Asides from one slightly clumsy piece about Syria and their deliberately bad musical sequences, there’s barely a false note in this heralded comeback. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, until 27 Aug (not 25), 7pm, £10–£14 (£8–£12).
Edinburgh native Jack Docherty last performed at the Fringe 25 years ago, but arrives with serious comedy pedigree. Currently starring as Chief Constable Cameron Miekelson on Scot Squad, he wrote for Spitting Image, was a script editor on Vic Reeves' Big Night Out, and then wrote and performed on the hugely influential sketch show Absolutely. Tonight's affair isn't going to rank as a career high point.
It's a disappointing hour, but starts promisingly as Miekelson performs a lecture on the future of Scottish policing. He effuses about the ‘sick beats’ of NWA, has a cheeky pop at his emergency service rivals, too preoccupied ‘fannying about’ with board games, box sets and PlayStations to be any use, and recalls the days of violence towards suspects, grinning broadly. At the halfway stage Docherty tags in Absolutely’s
McGlashan. There’s one joke, repeated ad nauseum, which is that this fervently pro-Independence man loves everything Scottish and goes into a fit of rage over the thought of anything English. A glance around the room reveals a lot: laughter and nonplussed looks in equal measure. (Craig Angus) ■ Gilded Balloon at the Museum, until 27 Aug (not 20), 9pm, £15.50–£16.50 (£14.50–£15.50).