{COMEDY} Reviews
DAVE GORMAN Inspired PowerPoint presentation from the genial everyman ●●●●●
Fringe shows that rely heavily on technical apparatus always stir a slight sense of apprehension. There’s always the risk that a large measure of the show’s impact will be neutered by some unforeseen meltdown. ‘Do you like the big screen?’ asks a clearly delighted Dave Gorman, aiming his pointer (no pun intended) at the floor-to-ceiling monitor that, in the course of an hour’s stand-up, will show the subtext to Gorman’s banter with a man in the front row, test his audience’s Pavlovian response to prompts such as ‘knock knock’, and even carry extracts from the script, stage directions included.
The show’s PowerPoint presentation structure isn’t just a conceit, though. Gorman’s on a mission to highlight the inconsistencies, errors and downright stupidities he’s discovered in social networking, advertising and the media, with the visual aids adding credence to his material.
The most inspired routine stems from the fact that the
comic is often mistakenly thought to be Jewish, including having been placed at number 13 in a magazine round-up of the 25 most influential Jews. He puts this error down to his inoffensive everyman quality, which allows the disaffected to project a certain image onto him. Twitter has brought him a step closer to these people, and he retains a particular affection for those fans that send him pictures of their friends claiming a resemblance to their favourite comic. Gorman whizzes through a cleverly constructed script that
seamlessly marries the writing to his visuals. His weakest material (a routine about gorging on foods that make your urine smell) comes right at the end, leaving a slight feeling of anti-climax. But it’s hard not to stay onside with such a genial performer whose passion for the internet and its legions of oddball followers is infectious. (Allan Radcliffe) ■ Assembly George Square, 623 3030, until 28 Aug, 7.40pm, £15 (£13.50).
DEANNE SMITH Boys want to be her, girls want to sleep with her ●●●●● AHIR SHAH Stars in his eyes ●●●●●
BRIDGET CHRISTIE Slapdash slapstick sloppy stand-up ●●●●●
L A V I T S E F
DeAnne Smith is a cutie and she knows how to use it. With a perky demeanour and little-girl voice, Bieber-esque fringe and a wardrobe nicked from Billy Joe Armstrong’s slimmer days, she strides onto the stage and lulls us into a false sense of saccharine security. Ruthlessly tapping the potential of a sweet smile
and outsider schtick, she sugar-coats some material that sails surprisingly close to the wind, and gets away with it. No overly original corners are explored as she talks and sings about racist grandmas and unrequited sexual urges towards her ex-girlfriend, but all the elements are pulled together into such a neat package and served up with such charm that you can’t help but fall for it, and her.
There’s a sense she’s playing with you, using that appeal to win you over and inviting a generous admiration with her self-deprecation, or acting all blokey and testosterone-fuelled in a way that may or may not be tongue-in-cheek. As she points out herself, it’s one way to cater to all demographics. (Laura Ennor) ■ Gilded Balloon Teviot, 622 6552, until 29 Aug (not 15, 22), 8.15pm, £8.50–£9.50 (£7.50–£8.50).
40 THE LIST 11–18 Aug 2011
Ahir Shah is 20, pretty, and used to write for Skins, while his posters for Astrology have him doe-eyed and holding a sparkler. These may well be the chief reasons that he’s not quite reaching the audience his set needs. Not to worry, though, as he’s got an early ‘niche joke about Iranian politics’ designed to sort the wheat from the chaff. ‘Chaff!’, he says, firmly, withering a section of the front row with the sort of high-minded disdain that only a 20-year-old Oxbridge undergraduate can muster.
The wife, mum and stand-up is back at the Fringe with a new show based on her Catholic upbringing. The fact that Bridget Christie is not at all sure doing an hour about religion is a good idea is completely in keeping with her happily shambolic performing style. An opening dance routine, to a ska version of the Doctor Who theme dressed as a bishop, drags on too long and while that might be heavily choreographed, elsewhere gags fizzle out with some desultory face-pulling.
Abrasively intelligent, given to frenzied riffing on It’s all very haphazard, but in no way half-hearted.
Max Weber’s prescience and unafraid to drop to his knees and pronounce in (mock?) despair, that ‘the very stars have been demystified’, Shah’s onstage presence is fascinating. A mixture of charm, arrogance and self-loathing, motivated by the sort of questing spirit that means his (frequently brilliant) punchlines are declaimed, almost a by-product of the enquiry process we’ve gone on to get there. Some of his techniques are clearly studied, and his subject matter still tends towards the onanistic, but catch him now, because when he gets out of this naval-gazing phase he’s going stellar. (Kirstin Innes) ■ Udderbelly’s Pasture, 0844 545 8252, until 29 Aug, 5.25pm, £8.50—£9.50 (£7—£8). As often as not her act falls flat, but she cheerfully continues and her disorganised stage presence becomes quite infectious, not least because she’s got a pleasant, easy-going way about her. Occasionally her sloppy schtick produces unexpectedly hilarious results, as is the case when she has a go at working a dummy, but doesn’t bother with the ventriloquism, and subsequently sets the venue’s sound engineer up with a belated punchline. That this gets the biggest laugh of Housewife Surrealist is much to Christie’s shammed chagrin. (Miles Fielder) ■ The Stand II, 558 7272, until 28 Aug (not 15), 4.40pm, £8 (£7).