{COMEDY} Reviews
TOM GREEN Porn and meat-fuelled non-event ●●●●●
On the most relentlessly wet Fringe day since the sodden floods of 2008, it’s perhaps understandable that a late show might start half an hour late. That our bone-dry Hollywood host made no mention whatsoever of the endurance test his devoted fans (and the mildly curious) had just suffered on his behalf is not so easily cast aside. This lack of empathy could have been steadily forgiven had Tom Green come to Edinbro with an actual show. Instead, he throws up a sequence of blunt observations, tame routines and flat punchlines, all of which merely play on the tolerance of his disciples. This is an hour of endless, unfunny contradictions. He
derides the LA celebrity lifestyle but has a cheery anecdote about his unhappy experience on Celebrity Apprentice while berating the lack of fame of his fellow failed entrepreneurs. The bit about how he longs for a simpler time when having a phone meant the one that sat in your house pales in anaemic comparison to a similar routine by Louis CK. Arguably most irritating of all is his pre-August insistence that his gigs are constantly ruined by fans hollering out lines from the notoriously awful Freddy Got Fingered. Yet during one of the many lulls, he practically implores his crowd to shout out quotes.
Green’s audience interaction amounts to pointing out
Michael Winslow among the gathering, charmlessly mocking inaudible contributions and high-fiving a front-row like-mind who whoops at every mention of porn and chicken. Did you know that back in the pre-internet day, kids used to find discarded jazz mags in the woods? Wow, no one has ever said that in a comedy show. And, hey, vegetarians are retards! Which is a perfectly justifiable opinion for a comic to hold if they have any material whatsoever to back it up. If this is Tom Green’s idea of a ‘partaay!!’ then I’m leaving my unopened invite in a drawer. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Udderbelly’s Pasture, 0844 545 8252, until 14 Aug, 10.55pm, £13–£15 (£12–£14).
DOCTOR BROWN Silent and vulgar tedium ●●●●●
FIONA O’LOUGHLIN Bloody funny, just don’t show her the Bloody Marys ●●●●● FORD & AKRAM Yin and yang do silly and surreal ●●●●●
L A V I T S E F
Surrealism and silent comedy have a long and healthy relationship. Ask Mack Sennett, Charlie Chaplin or Buster Keaton. You’d have to dig them up first, but that may be preferable to spending time with the hirsute Doctor Brown. In his silk dressing gown and Victorian smoking hat, Brown is every inch the inept performing mystic. If it wasn’t for the very modern vulgarity, he could have just stepped out of a Gold Rush-era saloon bar.
An hour of near-silent comedy is a big ask for a modern audience, and if you trade on a few stock poses and routines – the crucifixion, a confused bug-eyed child, the silly savant and silent pervert – the minutes crawl by. This anaemic vaudeville occasionally shudders into life, usually with the help of an audience member. The Doctor has next to no material, the running
joke is that you are witnessing a deliberately badly- executed show by a real talent. But the art of making bad showmanship come good can be achieved only with an understanding of some basics of comedy.
More stick than slap. (Paul Dale) ■ Underbelly, 0844 545 8252, until 28 Aug (not 15), 9.50pm, £9.50–£10.50 (£8.50–£9.50).
44 THE LIST 11–18 Aug 2011
An Irish-Australian who loves to get drunk? Now there’s a novel idea. Don’t be fooled though, Fiona O’Loughlin strides comfortably through what should be a cliché minefield, and finds comedy gold in the true story of her struggle with alcoholism. Her wicked, ‘couldn’t give a rat’s arse’ sense of mischief steers the show clear of any schmaltzy, overly earnest moments, as she looks back at the ‘red flag’ episodes that led to her hitting rock bottom about two years ago, and realising she needed to get sober. Expertly taking the piss out of the Oprah/Dr Phil
school of navel-gazing, hating the 19-year-old goody goody girl who (unnecessarily) attends her AA meetings, and reminiscing about the horrible day when the Duke of Edinburgh told her off for behaving inappropriately, she is an effortlessly smooth and relaxed storyteller who chuckles through a good deal of her own material. But there’s a bravery and honesty to her show. Candour and desert-dry wit make this a very funny confession. (Claire Sawers) ■ Gilded Balloon Teviot, 622 6552, until 28 Aug (not 15), 9pm, £10–£11 (£9–£10).
Many double acts rely on a natural chemistry to get them by. Others might be strong on material but just don’t have that onstage zing. So thank the blazes that Louise Ford and Yasmine Akram have got both elements down to a fine art for their Humdinger of a show, which tracks the true relationship of how this duo came to be in showbusiness together (that is if truth comes in at roughly 95% to 97% fictionalised). It starts off not too promisingly with nervy English girl Ford appearing on the verge of a panic attack as she states that she may well be doing the show on her own. Cue ballsy Irish lass Akram (‘my daddy is brown’), and that two-way chemistry starts whirring. The shy/confident double act power struggle feels like it’s been done a few times before, but F&A crank up their version with a fine script that allows them to platform their full range of actorly quirks: Ford’s awkward physicality certainly makes a permanent mark on the watcher’s mind-memory while Akram’s ‘Colin Farrell’ is a thing of rugged beauty. Theirs is a splendidly surreal and excellently performed hour which will be difficult to match for sheer joyful silliness. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 29 Aug (not 15), 3.30pm, £8–£9.50 (£7–£8.50).