{COMEDY} Reviews
DIANE SPENCER Don’t judge a comic by their gentle demeanour ●●●●●
One of the first thoughts that might enter your head when popping along to a Diane Spencer gig is whether or not she will play on the fact that her name is but a single letter away from one of the most famous women of the 20th century. Actually, playing on it is not quite what she does, but there are three mentions of the dead Di which at least feel justifiable within the thread of her story. All-Pervading Madness is a tale of urban depravity
stemming from what should have been a simple journey home, which she describes as ‘all-true’. Immediately alarm bells will ring in some heads, with that phrase remaining in your head as the ludicrous scenarios and bloody imagery mutate and multiply. Whether the grand finale of an apocalyptic scene in a late-night tube train is true or not, the fact that Spencer felt the need to express its veracity leaves a sense of doubt. What is far easier to believe is that she would spend her 23rd birthday watching an episode of Inspector Morse.
The thing that will be picked up on as her run
continues is the way her innocent looks and polite accent are violently betrayed by the utter filth and gruesome bile that is emitted from her mouth via a clearly polluted brainsack. This is both a boon and a bane to her act. As the references of crudity are stacked up on one another, you eventually find yourself immune to their power. Within the course of a career this might be understandable, but over an hour-long debut Fringe show, it seems like something of a wasted opportunity. Still, there is clearly enough talent in her comedy armoury to suggest that a great show is not far from her grasp. One is quite amused. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Gilded Balloon Teviot, 622 6552, until 28 Aug (not 16), 5.45pm, £9 (£8).
CATIE WILKINS Enthusiastic and wry story about parents ●●●●● CRAIG CAMPBELL Natural observational storytelling ●●●●●
DAVID REED Great lines but lots of filler ●●●●●
L A V I T S E F
While children can be so cruel, parents are nothing less than a walking embarrassment to their offspring. Especially if they, like the blood-line guardians of Catie Wilkins, are an over-emotional firecracker (mum) and a cold, pedantic robot (dad). Marking her Fringe debut, we hear all about the many flaws of her parents and how the comic fears that she is finally turning into them. It may sound like the kind of thing you’d hear a circuit comic spending two jokes on in their club set but Wilkins’ boundless enthusiasm is infectious as she portrays her nearest and dearest as a hopeless anal-retentive (papa) and a wired loose-cannon (mama). She’s not even put off by the terrible decision to allow a trio of latecomers to gain entry a mere 30 minutes into the show. You and I might think it polite to shuffle in quietly and take a seat at the back: not this lot, who march straight to the front row, giving the ever-generous Wilkins little choice but to make continued reference to the fact that they won’t get many of the references or any of the call-backs. Still, this is a charmingly feelgood and wry show about irritating individuals. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Udderbelly’s Pasture, 0844 545 8252, until 29 Aug (not 15), 8pm, £9.50–£10.50 (£8.50–£9.50).
42 THE LIST 11–18 Aug 2011
Raised in Canada but now residing in southern England, Craig Campbell holds the perfect vantage point to view Britain, along with the many idiosyncrasies of its inhabitants, from the perspective of an outsider. With a recent TV appearance on Michael McIntyre’s Comedy Roadshow as well as a supporting slot for Frankie Boyle, Campbell has established himself as a name to look out for.
Delivering a near faultless routine of observational comedy, Campbell is a natural storyteller and possesses an acute ability to recognise moments when his rendition requires an injection of gusto and others when he should rein in his enthusiasm.
On top of an ability to provide his own brand of humour, Campbell is able to portray his stories in such a way that there is never a point where the audience would think to question the authenticity of its content.
A heavy reliance on jokes surrounding Scottish stereotypes might be viewed as the only blot on an otherwise unblemished copybook, but the show is brilliantly conceived and full to the brim with top- class, expansive humour. (Jamie Cameron) ■ The Stand, 558 7272, until 28 Aug (not 15), 9.20pm, £10.
Luckless losers have great comic potential. From Brent to Fawlty, classic comedy is littered with the hubris of idiots. Branching out from Fringe stalwarts The Penny Dreadfuls, David Reed welcomes a collection of ‘tragic, lonely characters’ into his Shamblehouse. Opening strongly with his one recurring character,
Reed’s surreal musings mutate through several guises, including a man haunted by his ability to impersonate Morgan Freeman, and Dresden the South African, whose great innovations include the decaffeinated apple. His strongest sketch features Milo the doughnut and his attempts to fly, a sublimely ridiculous concept embellished with a mini superhero costume. There are some great lines scattered throughout and Reed is well-equipped to go off-script if suitably distracted, but there’s not too much to distinguish the characters beyond the way they speak. Although his script is sporadically hilarious, there’s a lot of filler between gags, and what would work brilliantly in a tighter show here feels a little stretched. (Murray Robertson) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 28 Aug (not 16), 8.30pm, £10–£12 (£8.50–£10.50).