FESTIVAL COMEDY REVIEWS AT A GLANCE
are being animals, people or buildings. Sometime surrealist comedy can be playful and anarchic, other times, and this is one, it just gets plain annoying. (Brian Donaldson) Gilded Balloon Teviot, 622 6552, until 26 Aug, 4.20pm, £8–£9 (£7–£8). The Harri-Parris ●●●●● Anni Harri-Parri is about to leave the Welsh farm she grew up in and head to the big London smoke for a new life away from family and friends. The audience are the guests for her surprise leaving do (cake is handed round) and this ‘sitcom with songs’ comes alive with each member revealing a bit of their story. It’s a pleasant enough hour and a couple of the songs are memorable, but for it to be dubbed as the new Father Ted is hyperbolic in the extreme. (Brian Donaldson) Zoo Pleasance, 662 6892, until 26 Aug, 6.40pm, £9 (£7). It’s Grimm Up North ●●●●● The first two episodes of this animated series introduce us to a handful of fairytale-influenced characters who live in the fictional town of Hardington. The animation is distinctive and quirky and the first film has an eerie air to it, but when creating such vile creatures who don’t receive their comeuppance (at least not in these episodes) it’s important to include something else: a hint of a vulnerability or empathy perhaps or make them in some way funny. (Marissa Burgess) Symposium Hall, 0845 557 7475, until 25 Aug, 3.10pm, 10.10pm, £8 (£5). Jamie Dalgleish ●●●●● The current Scottish Comedian of the Year has a wide-eyed enthusiasm that has to be admired, but judging by this short appearance (it’s not really a ‘show’), he clearly has quite a way to go before emulating the professionalism and ingenuity of past winners such as Mark Nelson and Scott Agnew. Some humdrum chatter about Scottish life is capped off with a reconstruction of a non-incident from his schooldays as performed by two unwilling audience members. (Brian Donaldson) The Caves, 556 5375, until 26 Aug, 10.40pm, £7–£9. Kieran and Joe ●●●●● This masterclass in friendship is more of a lesson in intimidation as K&J put the living fear into a front row which could be plucked from and experimented on at any moment. The pair’s chemistry and choreographed blundering is a joy at first but isn’t quite enough to maintain the interest through a madcap exploration of the ‘six golden rules of friendship’. (Brian Donaldson) Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 27 Aug, 3.15pm, £8.50– £9.50 (£7–£8). KWAT ●●●●● Formerly known as Quattro Formaggio, the more easily digestible KWAT deliver a cerebral show which recalls the work of The Consultants. We open with a woman answering her phone to a cold-caller who, rather than selling windows, matter-of-factly offers his hand in marriage. While the quality varies, there’s always the promise of something original waiting in the wings, and the performances are uniformly strong. (Murray Robertson) The Caves, 556 5375, until 26 Aug, 10.15pm, £10. Laurence Clark ●●●●● When a fan tweeted Clark saying his show was ‘inspiring’, the comedian with cerebral palsy found the comment so condescending he was driven to write a new one about what is truly inspirational and what is bollocks. This hour combines observational humour with filmed material, Clark presenting clips documenting his interaction with Londoners and tourists that further underline his thesis while he throws in a smattering of self-depreciation to ensure he doesn’t come across like an arse. (Miles Fielder) Underbelly, Bristo Square, 0844 545 8252, until 27 Aug, 5.20pm, £9.50–£11 (£8.50–£10). 118 THE LIST 23 Aug–20 Sep 2012
connections with some screened chat to Miranda Hart. It’s a perfectly serviceable and matey hour but not distinctive enough to warrant a serious sit-down with a telly exec. (Brian Donaldson) Pleasance Dome, 556 6550, until 26 Aug, 9.40pm, £8.50–£9.50 (£7–£8). Phil Nichol ●●●●● The hyperactive Fringe veteran can hardly contain everything he wants to say within this single stand-up hour. Nichol rages and blusters and fumes and seethes and shouts about what seems to be everything under the sun that’s daft, ridiculous and inane, beginning and ending with too much information on crisp packets. Which is a nice self- referential conceit for a comic who can’t talk enough. (Miles Fielder) Assembly Rooms, 0844 693 3008, until 26 Aug, 9pm, £10 (£9). Richard Herring ●●●●● In Talking Cock, all Herring does in this funny, educational and surprisingly touching hour, is talk about cock. Size inadequacy is one of the many unspoken issues he discusses, all based on the findings of an extensive online survey. Men and women are in this cock insecurity together, it would seem. By the end of the show, as we all shout in unison ‘I love my/your cock(s)!’, it’s a case of cock-lovers of the world unite. (Kelly Apter) Underbelly, Bristo Square, 0844 545 8252, until 26 Aug, 8.15pm, £14–£16 (£12–£14). Scientist Turned Comedian ●●●●● Chatting about molecular bonds, rule matrices and scalar/vectors is certainly one way to avoid attracting a boorish comedy crowd, but if boffins attending Tim Lee’s hour assume that all stand-up shows are like this, a great disservice will have been done. Still, Lee clearly thinks he’s onto something given the grin he flashes at the audience after each lame punchline to a usually decent set-up, but this should really be a strong case of not giving up the day job. (Brian Donaldson) Assembly Roxy, 623 3030, until 27 Aug, 5.30pm, £11–£12 (£10–£11). Shirley and Shirley ●●●●● The Shirleys deliver another sassy and inventive show. There are street-talking rude girls with a twist and a mime played out to Lana Del Rey’s ‘Video Games’. Throughout it’s cheeky and often close-to-the-bone plus they’re fearless when it comes to audience participation: literally reaching parts of the room that most sketch troupes don’t venture into. (Marissa Burgess) Underbelly, Bristo Square, 0844 545 8252, until 27 Aug, 4.10pm, £10–£11 (£9–£10). Thomas Nelstrop ●●●●● By the finale, Nelstrop is dripping with sweat having played every single character at the ‘In a Field’ festival. He runs about, sometimes playing his guitar, sometimes not, performing a mixture of made-up characters such as Johnny Rock and caricatures of Jools Holland, Thom Yorke and Jimi Hendrix. A fair few gags sit at playground level and there are bad puns aplenty but there are also enough sights to make you laugh uncontrollably. (Marissa Burgess) Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 27 Aug, 4.30pm, £10– £11 (£8–£9). Trevor Browne ●●●●● From start to finish, I Think . . . I Am is just plain wrong. Playing the role of a former folk-rock god trying to reclaim previous glory, we are shown footage of everyone from Ringo Starr to Barack Obama proclaiming Browne’s genius. Except the screen is only properly accessible to the front row. Then he proceeds to deliver an hour of lame gags, tortured theatrics, poor songs and flat audience interaction. Legendary, but not in a good way. (Brian Donaldson) Gilded Balloon Teviot, 622 6552, until 26 Aug, 7pm, £8.50–£9.50 (£7.50–£8.50).
RICHARD HERRING
An in-depth examination of the male member as Herring spends an hour Talking Cock. Based on an online survey this surprisingly insightful show is packed with facts, figures, perceptive observations and more knob gags than any other show at this year’s Fringe. ■ Underbelly, Bristo Square, 0845 5458252, until 26 Aug, 8.15pm, £14–£16 (£12–£14).
The Look of an Angel on the Devil Himself ●●●●● It can’t be easy being a solo stand-up performing in front of two people in a room but Irish stand- up Vinny McHale puts up a decent show of defiance. His story is pretty much about the life crossroads he feels he is approaching, while musing on funeral etiquette and workplace tyrants. There are few genuine laughs but he is an energetic presence who might fare better with more of a crowd. (Brian Donaldson) Apex International Hotel, 243 3596, until 27 Aug (not 25), 1.25pm, £7. Luke and Harry ●●●●● When you are just two guys doing a series of sketches with no props or a set to speak of, those routines live or collapse on the quality of writing. Here, the subject matter is a little narrow (far too many skits revolve around an icky scenario involving family members) and their tactic of saying ‘touchdown’ at the end of each bit goes from endearing to irritating rather swiftly. (Brian Donaldson) The Caves, 556 5375, until 26 Aug, 2pm, £8–£9 (£7–£8). Marcel Lucont ●●●●● Lucont is the beautifully realised creation of Alexis Dubus. A little bit Serge Gainsbourg, he sports a polo neck and brandishes red wine in the absence of being able to spark up une Gauloise. Given that the act hinges on such a glorious Gallic stereotype and that Dubus has been performing as Lucont for a few years now you might imagine he’d have run out of steam. But what he delivers is gag after consistent gag. (Marissa Burgess) Underbelly, Cowgate, 0844 545 8252, until 26 Aug, 10.25pm, £9.50–£10.50 (£8.50–£9.50). Michael Workman ●●●●● This is a truly beautiful little show; a quirky blend of images, music, storytelling and gentle gags combine for a memorable reflection on the importance of speaking up for what you believe in. Workman’s tale about a Cuban who leaves his wife and new baby as punishment for insulting Castro tugs at the heart strings, in part due to some Nyman-esque compositions which accompany the cute cartoons he projects on a screen dressed as a TV. (Marissa Burgess) Gilded Balloon at Third Door, 622 6552, until 26 Aug, 6.15pm, £9–£10 (£8–£9). The Noise Next Door ●●●●● ‘This is mental, ‘this will be mental’ and ‘mental!’ yell various members of The Noise Next Door improv collective and while their hour never quite hits the heights of true mania, you can’t help but admire their ad hoc skills. On this particular date, they weave a tale suggested by the throng about Superman landing upon a sleepy village and the pace rarely lets up with the quintet clearly having as much fun as their crowd. (Brian Donaldson) Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 27 Aug, 5pm, £13–£14 (£11.50–£13). Owen and Bettesworth ●●●●● Nervy performers always make for an ill-at-ease audience, but Oli Bettesworth and Laurence Owen at least have some talent they can work on for future Fringes. Bettesworth has a few issues he needs to air (being a social misfit and dealing with hecklers) while Owen merges the fashion sense of a young Stewart Lee with the stage verve of early Elvis Costello to dish up some arch songs with a hint of barely suppressed arrogance that doesn’t quite fit with being the ‘headline’ act on a comedy double bill. (Brian Donaldson) Apex International Hotel, 243 3596, until 26 Aug (not 25), 9.15pm, £7 (£5). Paul Foot ●●●●● The structure of a Foot gig is well established. Kick off with a bizarre non sequitur, move onto the next surreal musing, go a bit stir crazy, take ages over insignificant details, suffer a stage breakdown and then depart to a hero’s farewell (apart from those who are too bemused to react). Among the main threads here are the many cheddars on the market today, the potential disaster of providing Linda McCartney sausages at a children’s party and the fate of Sue Johnston on a trampoline. (Brian Donaldson) Underbelly, Cowgate, 0844 545 8252, until 26 Aug, 7.30pm, £10.50–£12 (£9.50–£11). Peacock and Gamble ●●●●● While they proclaim that they aren’t fussed about never being on TV, Peacock and Gamble may be biting their tongues somewhat. Welcoming us into their lighthouse, they breezily chat about launching a new career as internet medics while wielding their showbiz