Richard Herring: The Best



The Stand, Edinburgh

Let’s face it, it takes some chutzpah for a comedian to label his show ‘the best’ knowing full well the torrent of caustic putdowns that could inevitably follow such an outrageous claim. But after some discussion, we have to admit that there probably isn’t another stand up out there who is more deserving of the description. Herring has given us so much sheer enjoyment over the years.

We first encountered him at the Edinburgh Festival in 2010 with Christ On a Bike: The Second Coming and every year after that, the first show we would book would be his. We were distraught when he decided not to do the festival in 2015 and 2016, and delighted when we heard that he’s going to give it another shot this year. All in all, we’ve seen six of his shows and the beauty of it is, of course, that every one of them is completely different.

So here he is at Edinburgh’s most iconic comedy venue, offering 90 minutes selected from all 12 of his Edinburgh shows and we figure, if anybody has earned the right to perform a ‘best of’ compilation it’s the UK’s most hardworking (and in many ways, most criminally underrated) stand up comedian. He strolls onto the tiny stage, dressed more casually than we’ve seen him in a long time and launches headlong into his infamous Ferraro Rocher routine and as each successive clip segues into the next, the time just flies by while we sit there helpless with laughter.

It’s not rocket science. Obviously if you pick out all the funniest bits from over twenty hours of material, you’re going to be left with real quality and that’s pretty much what we get tonight, the perfect mix of silly, rude and cerebral. He keeps his Christ On A Bike material for the end and I still think that asked to pick my all time favourite, it would be this show, a dazzling tour de force of wit and invention, coupled with an amazing feat of memory – but that’s not to demean the rest of it. Herring at his least effective can still knock spots off most of his peers.

If you’re still unfamiliar with his work, we would urge you to seek him out at your earliest opportunity. If you can’t make it to a live slot, don’t forget there’s a whole raft of podcasts out there from his Leicester Square Theatre interviews, through As It Occurs To Me, right down to his Me1 vs Me2 snooker games. It’s all easily accessible and he leaves it up to you to decide if you ‘d like to pay him for the privilege of enjoying it.

There are precious few comedians who can offer such high output and fewer still who can maintain this level of quality. The Best? Yeah, we’re happy to go with that.

5 stars

Philip Caveney & Susan Singfield

Galvin Brasserie De Luxe


The Caledonian is of course, home to the Galvins’ Pompadour, a superb fine-dining restaurant we’ve already reviewed and loved. But the brothers have another venue housed in the same hotel, this one with a less formal, more bistro-like ambience, so we decide to head along and try out one of their special deals, which offers two courses and a glass of prosecco for just £17.50 a head. (Three courses: £21.50)

There’s a nice bustling atmosphere on the Sunday evening we choose to visit, though we note that the special deal doesn’t exactly give us a great deal of choice – just two starters and two mains from their seasonal menu, but they both sound suitably enticing, so we make our respective selections. I have the carrot & coriander velouté, served with pickled carrot and coriander oil. This is beautifully done, the thick sweet soup making a perfect contrast to the crunchy vinegary pickle and I use some of the excellent sourdough we’ve been greeted with, to mop the plate clean.  The confit chicken roulade is also nicely cooked and presented, a tasty savoury dish dressed with a thick tarragon mayonnaise.

No sooner have the plates been cleared than the main courses appear and it’s hard not to feel a little rushed. The coley fillet, with cauliflower and almond cous cous is very good indeed, the fish virtually melting in the mouth; bit I must confess to being rather less pleased with the lamb shank with aubergine caviar, courgette and fennel and basil puree, mostly because the lamb has been ‘pulled.’ Pulled meat seems to be everywhere these days but it makes for a less satisfying eating experience, because no matter how flavoursome it might be (and this surely is), there’s no real texture to it. To confound matters, the side order of fries we order doesn’t appear until we’ve actually finished eating and when it finally does show up, it’s just a tin container filled with the kind of tasteless frozen fries you’ll find pretty much anywhere. To be fair to the restaurant, because of the delay they don’t charge for these, but their absence means we’re waiting instead of relaxing while we eat, and this puts a bit of a crimp on the meal.

We eschew a pudding and indulge ourselves with a second glass of prosecco. A quick perusal of the wine list shows that there isn’t a decent bottle of plonk under £40 and this strikes us as a failing. While we’d be happy to spend that if we were having a more expensive meal, there should surely be a range of lower cost wines to accompany the bistro experience?

All-in-all, we’d go back to The Pompidour in a heartbeat, but the Brasserie probably needs to up its game a little if it hopes to compete with its more sophisticated neighbour.

3.5 stars

Philip Caveney

Get Out


Get Out, written and directed by Jordan Peele, is what he calls a ‘social thriller’ – and it’s a very successful slice of film.

When Chris (Daniel Kaluuya)’s girlfriend, Rose (Allison Williams) invites him to spend the weekend visiting her parents, he’s happy to go along, but cautions, “Have you told them that I’m black?” Rose laughs, insisting that her parents are open-minded and not racists: “Dad would have voted for Obama a third time if he could.” Ouch. And at first, this is what the film appears to be: a social satire, highlighting the awkward ‘them’ and ‘us’ thinking that characterises white liberal ‘tolerance.’ Chris has to grit his teeth and respond politely every time his apparently well-meaning  hosts shoe-horn references to black sports stars and actors into their conversations with him, every time they make assumptions about his interests or his physicality.

And yet, it’s more than that. Who are the mysterious black servants, Walter (Marcus Henderson) and Georgina (Betty Gabriel)? And why are they so creepy? There are shades of The Stepford Wives at play here, though Peele’s story takes the idea in an entirely new direction. When Rose’s mother, Missy (Catherine Keener) hypnotises Chris, ostensibly to help him quit smoking, events take a decidedly sinister turn, and Chris begins to realise that this white, middle-class, lefty suburb is a very dangerous place for a person of colour.

Despite its serious message, Get Out has a real lightness of touch, which makes its revelation of uncomfortable truths both palatable and crystal clear. There’s humour too – real laugh out loud stuff – provided primarily by LilRel Howery as Chris’s best friend, Rod.  It’s a gift of a role and the actor clearly revels in it.

Okay, so if I’m honest I’d have liked a few more jump-scares. But all in all, this is a cracking film with a brutal originality at its heart.

4.6 stars

Susan Singfield

Personal Shopper


This dark and somewhat gloomy offering from director Olivier Assayas, chronicles the misfortunes of Maureen (Kristen Stewart) a young woman based in Paris who is the personal shopper for  super-successful (and barely glimpsed) fashionista, Kyra (Nora Van Waldstatten). Maureen’s life is an unrewarding succession of shopping expeditions for fancy clothing and footwear that she’s forbidden from trying on herself, even though she’s been chosen for this role because she’s exactly the same size as Kyra.

Maureen is also a medium, desperately trying to get in touch with her twin brother, Lewis, who died a year ago and who suffered from the same congenital heart condition as her. The opening sequence, slow and wordless, has Maureen wandering around a deserted mansion in the dark, listening to various bumps and whispers, a scene which leads us to believe that we are in for a traditional ghost story; but, half way in, the film switches abruptly into murder mystery territory and from there just seems to be become increasingly bewildering.

This is a shame because Stewart’s performance, as a downtrodden, scruffy girl next door, is rather good, a million miles away from her familiar Twilight persona. She skilfully portrays a character who is repressing her inner demons and who suffers from a crippling inability to assert herself. Sadly the story she’s starring in is rather less assured. Assayas seems to be riffing on the parallels between contemporary communication – texts, Skype calls, emails – and the world of the supernatural, but he doesn’t try very hard to inform the average viewer, leaving us to guess at his intentions. Long passages have characters speaking in French – and other languages – without the aid of subtitles. Worse still, the all important conclusion to the murder mystery element happens off screen, neatly destroying any suspense that might have been generated through the series of threatening text messages that Maureen receives throughout the story. Finally, the films denouement is so obfuscated,  I spent hours afterwards trying to work out exactly what had happened.

Some reviewers have praised the film’s refusal to ‘pin things down,’ but the elephant in the room here is that this is surely an example of poor storytelling. I’m all for allowing viewers to make their own minds up as to what the director was trying to ‘say,’ but it surely helps to give us something concrete to build our theories on. In the end, Personal Shopper is neither fish nor fowl – it’s not the affecting ghost story it might have been and neither is it a satisfying thriller. Instead, it exists in a nebulous world somewhere between the two.

3 stars

Philip Caveney

9 to 5: The Musical



King’s Theatre, Edinburgh

9 to 5 is one of Dolly Parton’s best-loved songs, and this musical, is very much the singer’s brainchild too, featuring her music and lyrics with book by Patricia Resnick. Dolly even makes an appearance, projected onto a screen, introducing the show. It’s a lively, sprawling tale of office life, a feminist-lite story of three women who collaborate to overthrow their sexist boss, Hart (Colin Cairncross) and make their workplace more amenable.

Okay, so the storyline is somewhat shonky but the Bohemians Lyric Opera Company are one of Edinburgh’s best known amateur groups, established in 1909, and their production is as gutsy and energetic as you might expect. It’s beautifully styled – all 70s kitsch – and the choral singing is excellent.

But the stand-outs are the three leads, each perfectly cast. Katherine Croan is a sassy Doralee, the Dolly-Parton-esque glamour puss who despairs of her colleagues who refuse  to see there’s more to her than hair and boobs. She struts and pouts and really owns the stage. It’s a wonderful performance. Jo Heinemeier is also impressive as Judy, the timid new girl in the office, learning independence  after her husband has left her. Her voice is truly exquisite. Pauline Dickson’s Violet is another delight, conveying strength as well as vulnerability; it’s a maternal role and very well realised. The relationship between the three characters is warm and convincing, and really makes the piece.

There are a few quibbles: the choreography  is perhaps a little over-ambitious at times, and there are too many complicated  set changes, but overall  this is a decent production – and very well worth going to see.

3.8 stars

Susan Singfield


Hay Fever



Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh

The world of Noel Coward is arguably an overly familiar one – a world of tennis whites and champagne cocktails, of country houses and French windows. Perhaps the word most associated with his work is ‘arch.’ If you’re going to have a crack at the plays of ‘The Master’, you’d better be sure that quality is there in abundance.

Luckily, this co-production from The Lyceum Theatre and Glasgow’s Citizens Theatre, under the astute direction of Dominic Hill, gets it just right. Hay Fever is the story of the Bliss family, four eccentric bohemians co-existing in their country retreat and planning a bit of a bash at the weekend. The father of the house, David (Benny Baxter-Young), is a successful novelist, currently hard at work on his latest opus, The Sinful Woman. His wife, Judith (Susan Woolridge), is a former grande dame who has never quite lost her flair for the theatrical and is happy to utilise it whatever she’s doing (even she’s simply rearranging flowers). And then there are the kids, Sorel (Rosemary Boyle) and Simon (Charlie Archer), both bored to distraction, endlessly bickering and always ready to make a little mischief. When it transpires that each member of the Bliss family has invited a different house guest down for the weekend, it’s clear that the stage is set for some farcical encounters… but who, you might ask, will get to sleep in the Japanese room? And why does it seem to matter so much?

I’ve rarely seen Coward done better than this. The social awkwardness of the various visitors is played for maximum effect. The scene where hopelessly-out-of–her-depth Jackie Coryton (Katie Barnett) is obliged to interact with pompous Richard Greatham (Hywel Simons) is almost painfully funny. On the night we attend, an onstage accident, which results in a hostess trolley tipping over complete with everyone’s breakfast, is skilfully incorporated into the proceedings and gets some of the biggest laughs of the evening. I also enjoy the brief interval where housekeeper Clara (Myra McFadyen) treats us to a brief selection of Coward’s greatest hits.

This is a delightfully frothy confection and, even though it’s set in the 1920s, the awkward toe-curling moments it offers for our entertainment are still just as relevant today. Go along and treat yourself. These days laughter like this is in perilously short supply.

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney

The Love Witch


There are good films, there are bad films and then there are kitsch films, and I think The Love Witch definitely falls in to the third category. Pretty much the love project of one woman, Anna Biller – she wrote, directed, edited and even created the costumes and props for this – the result is quite unlike anything I’ve seen in the cinema since the 1970s, every frame lovingly styled in eye-popping Technicolour, every face ladled with makeup, every hairstyle meticulously arranged.

Elaine (a remarkable performance by Samantha Robinson, looking for all the world like a young Diana Rigg) is the new witch on the block, just arrived in a small American town where she is received with little more than the occasional raised (and perfectly plucked) eyebrow. Indeed, there’s even a quaint little store in town selling potions and charms where Elaine can earn herself some pin money. We quickly learn that she is desperately in search of love and is ready to use every potion in her arsenal to secure the right partner. Her ex-husband, Jerry, has come to a somewhat sticky end and it’s clear from the outset that his premature demise is linked to the fact that he has disappointed Elaine. As she starts to attach herself to various males about town, a deadly pattern emerges… and woe betide any man who fails to live up to her romantic expectations.

I rather enjoyed this film. The characters here do not behave in the way that rational people would – indeed, the storyline is a nutty as a squirrel’s horde – but the film’s powerful appeal lies in its outright clunkiness, the way that it steadfastly refuses to allow for anything approaching normality. And though you’d be forgiven for thinking that the story is actually set in the 1970s, characters will occasionally pull out a mobile phone, or something equally 21st Century and, although at first it just looks somehow wrong, this jarring quality is what makes the film so much fun. What might at first appear to be an anti-feminist bias in the story, cunningly ends up pointing out that Elaine’s old fashioned obsession with love and romance – itself a spoof of the romantic ideals espoused by women’s magazines – is a destructive thing that can only lead to madness and mayhem. The male characters are equally ill-served by these ideologies, as they speed short-sightedly towards their own destruction.

If I’ve made it all sound rather po-faced, don’t be misled. The film is often laugh-out-loud funny (the fight sequences alone are worth the price of admission). To be honest, The Love Witch does slightly overstay its welcome: an extended sequence set at a medieval fair has several ‘hey nonny noes’ too many,  for example, and a quick trim in the editing booth would have worked wonders  – but that’s a minor quibble. In the end, this works so well because it’s like something from another time. But it’s much more than just a 70s spoof. It’s a genuine oddity – and an accomplished work of art.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney