Comedy

Fishbowl

11/08/19

Pleasance Grand, Edinburgh

This quirky, captivating production from French theatre group Le Fils Du Grand Réseau is a recent winner of the Molière award for Best Comedy, and is playing to packed houses at the Pleasance Grand. It’s easy to see why. With its impeccably timed visual gags and ingenious production design, it contains beautifully devised sequences that are comparable to the work of Mack Sennet at his best. It is, essentially, a silent comedy, one that – again and again – elicits absolute gales of laughter from the auditorium.

This is all about the eccentricities and indignities of city living. We observe the lives of three neighbours, living cheek by jowl in adjoining attic apartments in Paris. There’s a shambolic hoarder, eking out a lonely existence amidst chaotic heaps of detritus; a karaoke-loving guy who inhabits a zen-like, white painted box; and a new arrival, a woman who styles herself as a holistic healer-hairdresser-masseur, but who clearly has none of the necessary training to practise these skills with any degree of success. When both men cast an asquisitive gaze in her direction, the scene is set for a series of rivalries and madcap misadventures.

There’s something deliciously old school about this production. I love the way it tells its unfolding story over an extended period of time, showing how people have the capacity to change – and I particularly like a brief moment where the technicians toiling behind the scenes are ‘accidentally’ put on display. If the story occasionally leans a little too heavily on the toilet gags, it’s nonetheless endlessly inventive, and I can truthfully say it isn’t quite like anything I’ve seen before.

Book your seats for the Grand. You’ll laugh mightily, even when the merde hits the fan.

4.5 stars

Philip Caveney

Louisa Fitzhardinge: Comma Sutra

07/08/19

Gilded Balloon Patter House (Nip), Edinburgh

Louisa Fitzhardinge is an engaging performer, her nerdy enthusiasm both infectious and entertaining. This is a show about language and pedantry, and about learning to embrace who you really are. Fitzhardinge opens with some grammar gripes, then sings us her autobiography, explaining how an early love of reading led to a modern languages degree.

I relate to Comma Sutra well. I too completed a BA in German, and – like Fitzhardinge – went on to study Theatre. I’m a stickler for proper punctuation, and a fan of the Oxford comma. Her subject matter appeals to me.

In places, Comma Sutra is very good; there’s a lot of sprightly wordplay, and the final multi-lingual number is particularly impressive. Fitzhardinge has a lovely voice, and the songs are witty and fun. Sometimes it feels a little superficial though, those gags about apostrophes and misplaced commas perhaps too easy and unchallenging. I don’t mind the dad jokes and the terrible puns – but  they’re not exactly demanding, and I find this section drags somewhat. I think I’d just like her to dig a bit deeper, to explore less charted territory.

Overall, though, I enjoy myself. It’s a pleasure to spend an hour in the company of this charming pedant, and I leave with a smile on my face as I think about ‘oak croissants’.

3 stars

Susan Singfield

 

 

Showstopper! The Improvised Musical

07/08/19

Pleasance Grand, Edinburgh

Showstopper! is an Edfringe institution. The Olivier award-winning show has been here for the past twelve years, playing to huge crowds at the Pleasance Grand, but – apart from a brief extract at a Mervyn Stutter showcase – I’ve somehow repeatedly failed to catch up with it. This year, I decide, it is time to rectify that situation.

‘This had better be good,’ I mutter, as we make our way along the rainlashed streets of the city. (Edinburgh currently appears to be caught up in a monsoon.) Well, happily, it is good. In fact, that’s an understatement. It’s extraordinarily good. I’ve seen lots of improv comedy over the years, but never have I seen it performed to quite such a degree of excellence.

The preamble will be familiar to all improv fans. An MC announces that his performers need to create a brand new musical at very short notice. Suggestions for themes and styles of musical theatre are elicited from members of the audience and chosen by gauging which ideas prompt the most enthusiastic cheers. And so we arrive at our scenario. This musical will be set in a salsa class and will feature songs in the style of Calamity Jane, Hair and several other shows. The live band cranks out a Latin-American tune and six performers race onto the stage. They begin to dance around in an astonishingly co-ordinated fashion and, as they do, compose a song on the spot, moreover, a song that is tuneful, amusing and – get this – rhymes perfectly!

I sit in wonder. How the hell are they doing this? Seriously, I’ve seen ‘straight’ musicals that are done with less alacrity than this. Clearly these performers are well attuned to each other: they respond to every move, every visual prompt like well-drilled soldiers. At regular intervals, the MC jumps to his feet and suggests a change of direction and the team go with it, devising ever more bizarre but hilarious twists and turns. There are stirring, hand-clapping anthems, plaintive love songs and mighty power ballads, before the ensemble bring everything together for a rousing finale. Somehow, the plot actually makes perfect sense.

Seriously, if you’re looking for the perfect show to make you forget your woes, Showstopper! is an ideal choice. My only regret? Why have I waited so long to see it?

5 stars

Philip Caveney

The Long Pigs

06/08/19

Assembly Roxy, Central, Edinburgh

Welcome to the world of The Long Pigs – a dirty, degraded chamber where clowning has taken on a sinister and bizarre twist. The three pigs – Clare Bartholomew, Mozes and Nicci Wilks – have made a list and they’re checking it twice. They are working tirelessly to eradicate the world of all their competition, removing the noses of famous clowns and canning them, using a ramshackle device that would challenge the best inventions of Heath Robinson.

But their work is regularly interrupted when they are called upon to go through the motions of a ‘performance,’ shuffling grudgingly through over-rehearsed routines, scowling furiously at the audience as they do so, before breaking off and hurrying back to the task that clearly obsesses them. So many clowns out there; so much work to be done before they can rest.

The look of this piece is unremittingly squalid, but there is beauty here too in the soaring soundscape that accompanies the action and, while the full meaning of what we see is sometimes frustratingly opaque, it nevertheless generates plenty of after-show speculation. What is the meaning of that crucifixion scene? What does the gangling rag-doll on a rope signify? And as for that astonishing ending…

Well, I guess that’s the very essence of what this Australian physical comedy troupe is working to achieve. One thing’s for sure: this is a show the like of which I’ve never seen before and, if the Fringe has a raison d’être, then surely originality must count for a whole lot? So head down to the Assembly Roxy and take your thinking caps with you.

You’re going to need them.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

AJ Holmes: Yeah, but Not Right Now

05/08/19

Underbelly Cowgate (Belly Dancer), Edinburgh

There’s something charmingly anachronistic about AJ Holmes. Those lovely melodic flourishes on the keyboard are decidely old-school and the voice, as you might expect from the former star of The Book of Mormon, is a constant delight, soft and plaintive in the lower ranges and suprisingly powerful when he hits the high notes.

But the choice of subject matter is more unusual than you might expect. I mean, who else do I know, who’s happy to belt out a tender melody about the trials and tribulations of having a poo? Moreover, one who can effortlessly coax a roomful of people into singing the chorus along with him, resulting in me leaving the venue with the weirdest earworm EVER.

Holmes also displays an easy rapport with his audience, addressing a soulful ballad to a (clearly delighted) woman in the front row and kindling plenty of laughter with his observations about his mother and the overpowering loneliness of touring in a major production. He also experiments with a recording machine, overlaying riffs on various instruments and then multi-tracking his voice to create an angelic-sonding chorus. (Don’t worry, this is far more engaging than it sounds!)

The end result is thoroughly entertaining, and a rewarding way to spend an hour. Catch him down at the Underbelly before he packs up his keyboard and heads back to the USA.

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney

 

Jon Long: Planet-Killing Machine

 

04/08/19

Underbelly Bristo Square (Clover), Edinburgh

We’re not sure what to expect from this: we’ve never seen Jon Long before. We’re heading into his comedy show because we like the poster, and because the environmental theme appeals to us. We’re glad we take the punt, because this young comedian is really very good.

I say ‘young’ because that’s how he seems. He tells us he’s thirty, but he exudes the charm of a diffident teenager; he has a gentle, appealing approach. It’s a pleasure to spend an hour in his company, being entertained by his songs and gags.

The show is loosely eco-focused – based on what he’s experienced working in a recycling centre, and his guilt at being the titular planet-eating machine – but there are lots of diversions and asides. It’s punctuated by witty, catchy songs, and we’re invited to join in. There are jibes at millennials, which might sound hack but work well here; there’s a self-deprecating tone to the mockery, which warms us to his ideas.

Long doesn’t look ravaged enough for his alcoholism material to be true, but I guess that angelic face masks what he’s been through. I’m just glad he’s in recovery, because this is one performer with a lot to say and a rather lovely way of saying it. Even when he’s singing about dildos.

4.2 stars

Susan Singfield

 

Detour: A Show About Changing Your Mind

03/08/19

Underbelly Bristo Square (Buttercup), Edinburgh

Detour is Diana Dinerman’s account of how her life has taken unexpected turns: from dancer to historian to stand-up comedian. In this solo show, she charts the twists and turns of the path she’s trodden, using modern dance as an illustrative technique.

Dance – and its allegorical associations – is the strength of this show. The standout moment for me is when Dinerman performs the key features of three leading practitioners, a precise and economical demonstration that even non-dancers like me can understand. These ideas – of taking up space, contracting, separating out the limbs – are then interwoven into her story, physical metaphors for emotional discoveries. It’s a neat concept.

The opening third is very funny, with some wry witticisms and keen observations. From thereon in, there are fewer jokes, as Dinerman details a period of emotional distress and subsequent self-discovery. She speaks well, and the tale flows easily, but this section is a bit too self-help-manual for me. I admit, I’m not generally good with publicly-voiced introspection (I’m a “roll-your-eyes-and-call-it-naval-gazing” cynical kind of gal), so I’m really not the ideal audience member for this show. Certainly, as we left, the people behind us were most appreciative, enthusing about how insightful and thought-provoking they’d found it.

So, if you enjoy soul-searching with a dash of comedy, this could just be the show for you.

3 stars

Susan Singfield

Sarah Kendall: Paper Planes

02/08/19

Assembly George Square (Studio 2), Edinburgh

The Fringe is a yearly delight for us, a great big box of chocolates with next to no labelling, so we never really know what to expect. We’re always on the lookout for fresh, exciting new acts, but there are also a few stalwarts we return to again and again, mostly I suppose, because they represent the nearest we’ll ever get to a guarantee of quality.

Sarah Kendall is one of those stalwarts. We first saw her in 2015 with the quietly devastating A Day in October and we’ve gone back to drink at the same well every year since. If Paper Planes doesn’t quite achieve the heights of her finest work, it nonetheless features her unique blend of ascerbic comedy and intriguing storytelling and I can think of few better ways to spend an hour than in her excellent company.

A story told in four chapters, topped and tailed by a prologue and an epilogue, the latest show is an apparently scattershot narrative that takes in a whole series of diverse experiences: Sarah telling bedtime stories to her daughter, telling lies to her agent and being generally appalled by the things her (weirdly voiced) mother says on the phone. She spends time in American hotels as she travels to LA touting for work, all the while trying to motivate herself to write the book for which she’s accepted a large advance. As she goes, she reflects on world events, commenting on the dangerous lurch to the right that seems to be happening in the Western world and worrying that she should be doing something to address the situation.

It’s a wide-ranging piece but – with unerring skill – she manages to find the funny in all of her subjects, nailing them one-by-one with her rapier wit. She even manages to tie all those supposedly loose threads together to achieve a satisfying and genuinely heartwarming conclusion.

If you haven’t experienced Sarah Kendall yet, then this is surely the perfect year to address that situation. Go and see her for yourself. You’ll be engaged, surprised and entertained, but the one thing you won’t be is disappointed.

4.6 stars 

Philip Caveney

Beep Boop

02/08/19

Assembly, George Square (Blue Room), Edinburgh

Physical comedy is one of the hardest things to pull off successfully. Because its practitioners sometimes make it look ridiculously easy, we’re sometimes fooled into thinking that it actually is; but it only takes a few moments in the company of a gifted mime artist to appreciate how rigorously they have trained themselves to reach such levels of perfection. New York-based performer Richard Saudek is a brilliant exponent of the form. And today, in a very hot enclosed space on the Edinburgh Fringe, it certainly doesn’t look easy. The sweat is literally raining from him as he manipulates his face and body into a whole range of frantic contortions.

In Beep Boop, Saudek plays a man addicted to his own technology: his phone, his tablet, his laptop; he cannot seem to tear himself away from them. Locked up in his apartment, he appears to have lost the skill of maintaining a genuine friendship. A knock on the door is treated with open hostility. The voice of a woman offering beauty tips online is the closest he ever gets to a conversation. He cannot even make a meal without photographing it, sharing it online and then dumping it in the bin.

This is a hard act to review, simply because every move, every gesture, tells us something new about this man’s tortured character. Aided only by a series of sound effects -provided by a po-faced female assistant – Saudek flings himself through a series of manic vaudevillian twists as his beloved devices subsume him, affect him and ultimately attempt to destroy him. And if I’m in danger of making the whole thing sound a bit on the grim side, don’t be misled. This is brilliantly, howlingly funny stuff. Saudek’s range of facial expressions alone are enough to have me in stitches.

Weirdly, for me, much of the humour comes from recognising myself in this weird mix. Saudek’s character exhibits traits that are uncomfortably familiar – and in a way, that’s the real strength of what he accomplishes here. It’s like looking at yourself in a funfair mirror.

If you like mime and physical theatre, then don’t miss this show. You’ll be in for a treat.

4.5 stars

Philip Caveney

Gun

01/08/19

Assembly Rooms, Front Room

Of all the movie genres that are regularly spoofed for comic effect, the Western is perhaps the one that’s most ripe with potential. Gun is a comedy monologue, written and performed by Will Hartley, formally one quarter of the Clever Peter sketch troupe, in which he gamely takes on twenty-five characters, with little more than a battered Stetson and some extremely ropey scenery to back him up. 

There’s an amiable, ramshackle quality to this piece, that only serves to add to the general hilarity. When Hartley manages to inadvertently knock over some of the aforementioned cardboard scenery, the moment is gleefully incorporated into the narrative – and when, in a later scene, there’s a four way shootout to enact, Hartley rises magnificently to the occasion, snapping from one character to the next, ensuring that we’re never in any doubt as to who is shooting whom – and why.

Meanwhile, Western buffs will have a field day spotting the various cinematic references – with an Ennio Morricone-style music cue here and a Clint Eastwood cliché there. There’s little point in going into the convoluted storyline; suffice to say there are few Western tropes left undisturbed. Hartley cleverly works the titles of scores of iconic movies into his script and, as the story unfolds, I find myself ticking them off in an imaginary box in my head. A climactic sequence, where Hartley is obliged to enact a torrid sex scene with himself, is a particular delight.

While it’s not designed to linger long in the memory, Gun is an ideal vehicle for those audiences looking for a good old belly laugh. Why not mosey on down to the Assembly Rooms and grab yourself a fist full of giggles?

4 stars

Philip Caveney