FESTIVAL COMEDY REVIEWS
SAM FLETCHER Weird and wacky mix of magic and music ●●●●●
There has been a surge in self-deprecating geeky comics over the past few years, reflecting a kind of postmodern twist of fate. Being a nerd has become cool, and Sam Fletcher’s weird and wacky show – a mix of crude magic, flipchart proposals and ‘dad jokes’ – is a fine example. Good on Paper dispels all myths about the quality of free comedy. There are high levels of audience participation, initiated by sweets and handmade programmes, distributed by Fletcher. This intimate atmosphere is lost in stadium gigs and overlooked by more established comics. There are some attempts which fall flat, and while Fletcher tries to make things a bit awkward, it ruins the momentum. If he can augment the effective sections and trim the bland musical ones, he could have something truly novel. (Andrew Latimer) ■ Bannermans, 226 0000, until 25 Aug, 12.30pm, free.
CARL EINAR-HACKNER Swede stand-up magic ‘just like that’ ●●●●●
Like a bumbling, long-haired, clown-cross between Tommy Cooper and Justin Hawkins from The Darkness, Carl-Einar Häckner wants to wow you with magic. Poured into his white jumpsuit, he’s not quite nailed the tricks yet; so he’d have you believe, anyway, as he grimaces and minces apologetically through a stunt let down by wonky IKEA props. The Swedish stand-up – once part of the
cabaret troupe La Clique – uses his pidgin English to good effect, and a skit about learning magic from a kid’s cassette, where he mixes up ‘bandana’ and ‘banana’, is a highlight. Levitation, old-school card tricks, and a mildly twisted love song about a girl- friend facially scarred during a circus elephant acci- dent also make up his daft but enjoyable set.
Häckner’s onstage schtick – veering between nervous pre-school child and rock-loving oddball – ends up being charming, albeit a bit baffling at first. Handluggage is chaotic, absurd, heavily-accented slapstick-magic fun. (Claire Sawers) ■ Gilded Balloon Teviot, 622 6552, until 27 Aug, 7.30pm, £9.50–£10.50 (£8.50–£9.50).
SAM SIMMONS Noisy ‘play’ fails to do Aussie comic justice ●●●●●
Imagine a shouty hybrid of the horror movie Videodrome and that creepy old record ‘Sparky’s Magic Piano’ and you have a fairly accurate idea of Sam Simmons’ play-within-a-Fringe-comedy, About the Weather. ‘It’s going to be weird for an hour,’ roars the Aussie comedian and radio presenter at the start. And while the scenario that unfolds is undeniably bizarre, it’s also shambolic, repetitive and shrill, all the more frustrating because there are odd moments of brilliance that leave you suspecting the former zookeeper’s Fringe show isn’t doing his comedic talents justice. The conceit here is that Simmons’ character, a moustachioed loser everyman, ground down by life,
is being conducted through his day by a narrator whose voice is first heard inside his radio. After waking, he feeds his cat ‘Mr Meowgi’ (geddit?), attempts to assemble IKEA furniture and ogles his ‘bus crush’ on the way to work. When the radio voice says, ‘I can make you do anything I want’, this leads to some unsolicited audience interaction, including throwing shoes, devouring a bunch of flowers and straddling a young man while spinning round in an office chair. Much is made of the contrast between Simmons’ character’s appearance (described as looking like a ‘dodgy geography teacher’) and his cheesy music taste, which includes Salt’n’Pepa, the Spin Doctors and Warren G.
All of this would be much funnier if Simmons did more than yell, parrot-fashion, the radio announcer’s instructions, while charging around the stage. A repeated pastiche of the Gillette advert quickly gets old, and only a brief diversion into rapid-fire, ranty stand-up shows how intelligent and inventive Simmons can be. As things stood, when the character began slapping slices of boiled ham onto his face, I was half-hoping a hungry Mr Meowgi would fly at him, claws bared. (Allan Radcliffe) ■ Gilded Balloon Teviot, 622 6552, until 26 Aug, 9.15pm, £10.50—£11.50 (£9.50—£10.50).
SAMMY J & RANDY Triumph of style over substance ●●●●● Yes, it’s funny that a purple puppet might swear and drink and smoke. And it’s probably amusing that he would hang out with a socially inadequate skinny nerd. But once you get used to those facts, the new Sammy J and Randy show doesn’t have a huge amount left to fall back on. The Inheritance is a rather humdrum affair, which kicks off with Randy (as manhandled by Heath McIvor) discovering he is the heir to a vast baronial pile. But there are inevitable stumbling blocks and a twist that you could see coming from a brief skim of the synopsis. A malevolent gnome looks as though it’s straight off the set of Spirited Away, while the catchphrase of ‘it was a different time back then’ becomes fairly tedious. Hats off for the Princess Diana com- memorative oven glove and the seemingly ad-libbed shadow puppetry sequence. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Underbelly, Bristo Square, 0844 545 8252, until 27 Aug, 6.05pm, £13–£15 (£12–£14).
114 THE LIST 23 Aug–20 Sep 2012