Comedy

Les Dawson: Flying High

15/08/22

Assembly George Square (Gordon Aikman Theatre), Edinburgh

For many in the auditorium, this show is a trip down memory lane. For me, it’s more of an introduction. It’s not that I’m too young to remember Les Dawson – he was on TV when I was a child – but we never watched his show at home, although I saw bits of it at my grandparents’ house, or with my friends. As I walk along the Meadows, on my way to George Square, I try to recall what I know of him. There isn’t much: I’m stuck at gurning, gruff voice, fake bosoms and “my mother-in-law”.

No matter. Let’s see what light the inimitable (ha!) Jon Culshaw can shed on a man who was, for decades, a staple of popular entertainment.

This 480-seater theatre is packed. There’s clearly a lot of lingering affection for Dawson – and a lot of faith in Culshaw to deliver. The set looks promising: it’s lavish by Fringe standards, dominated by a large screen, designed to look like a 1980s TV. There’s also a piano (or, at least, the back of one; I can’t see from where I’m sitting if it’s real), and an aeroplane seat, from where much of the material is recounted.

The premise is simple: Dawson is on Concorde, flying to Manhattan to perform at a private party for a rich ex-pat from Leeds. He has agreed to write an autobiography and, until it’s done, Dawson can’t focus on the novel he really wants to write. So he decides to put his time in the air to good use, recounting the story of his life, from the terraced streets of Collyhurst to the Royal Variety Performance.

Culshaw’s affection for Dawson is evident in his performance, which focuses on the comic’s warmth and charm, as well as his natural humour. I hadn’t realised that Dawson harboured literary ambitions, but it makes sense: the jokes, I see now, are often lyrical flights of fancy, undercut by a crude punchline. He uses language in a way that shows he loves it, playing with words, creating startlingly beautiful images. It’s fascinating to see this burgeoning in his youth, as Culshaw shows us a young wannabe poet pushed into boxing by a well-meaning uncle who doesn’t understand. Who knew that Dawson was the Billy Elliot of his day?

I like Tim Whitnall’s script, with its fourth-wall breaking acknowledgement of theatricality, as Culshaw speaks from the screen in a range of guises: as John Humphreys, for example, or as Dawson’s cartoon ‘gossipy-women’ creations, Ada and Cissie. “You’re a narrative device,” Dawson tells Humphreys, “helping to set the time and place.”

This is more than just a good impression, although it’s certainly that too. Although this piece is basically a monologue, director Bob Golding ensures it never feels static, and the audience is audibly appreciative. I leave feeling fonder of Dawson than I ever expected to.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Jenny Bede: The First Pregnant Woman in the World

13/08/22

Underbelly Bristo Square (Clover), Edinburgh

We first encountered Jenny Bede way back in 2013 at the Fringe, when she appeared alongside Jessie Cave in Ain’t Too Proud to Beg. We enjoyed that show a lot, but haven’t managed to see her since. Until now. And, while a lot has changed (she’s the first woman in the whole world to have ever been pregnant, you know), she’s still the same sweet-faced, potty-mouthed, musical comic we remember.

The theme here is – unsurprisingly, given the title – motherhood, but – as should also be evident – Bede is very, very self-aware. She’s brutally honest about the toll pregnancy and parenting take (the struggle to work while breast-feeding; the hormonal rage of the second trimester; the absolute carnage of giving birth), but also conscious of the self-absorption and entitlement ‘a white woman with a buggy’ sometimes displays.

Bede is an engaging performer. Her style is chatty and intimate, and she doesn’t seem to have a filter – some of her tales are very personal (and all the better for it). The show’s high points are the musical numbers, all original pieces, with bitingly witty lyrics. The standout is the song about things that make her angry, that soon descends into a rant, interrupted periodically by cheers and applause from the audience as she highlights issues that have affected us all (not least the fact that Boris Johnson was enjoying a party at the exact same time she was giving birth without her partner present, because WE WEREN’T ALLOWED TO MIX!).

There’s a weird heckle early on that unsettles her briefly, but Bede is an experienced comedian, and she soon settles back into her stride. This is a funny and appealing show, with some serious points playing peek-a-boo behind the jokes.

3.5 stars

Susan Singfield

Lucy Porter: Wake-Up Call

12/08/22

Pleasance Courtyard (Forth), Edinburgh

Lucy Porter is as vivacious and likeable as ever – her bright-eyed enthusiasm is hard to resist. Perhaps she relies on this a little bit too much in this loosely-structured show, however, which seems to skirt around a point it never quite makes. 

The premise is ostensibly about a mid-life ‘crisis’, resolved by the wake-up call of the title. It’s relatable (most of the audience – including me – are in the same age bracket as Porter) but there isn’t really anything calamitous or, well, crisis-like here, just a vague sense of anxiety about getting old.

There are lots of laughs though. It’s a pleasant, meandering monologue, and Porter’s warmth and charm shine through. But I’m left wanting something more. That bed, for instance. It’s an enormous prop. It must be a pain in the arse to store and set up. But it’s a perfect example of Chekhov’s gun principle – if it’s not going to be used, what’s it doing there? (Okay, so it is used, in fact, but only for a nano-second, and not to any great effect.) 

An agreeable way to spend an hour, this one’s probably the perfect tonic if you’re in the mood for an undemanding treat. 

3 stars 

Susan Singfield 

Kylie Brakeman: Linda Hollywood’s Guide to Hollywood

12/08/22

Gilded Balloon (Patter Hoose), Chambers Street, Edinburgh

Kylie Brakeman hits the modestly-sized stage of the Patter Hoose like an unstoppable force. 

She’s in character as Linda Hollywood, a venal, self-aggrandising (and ultimately deluded) talent agent, ready to dish the dirt on current clients and always on the lookout for fresh meat. This is her seminar on how to succeed in the town that’s named after her. Wait till you hear about her plans for the relaunch of “Harry Potter’s assistant,” Rupert Grint!

Brakeman throws other characters into the mix, barely stopping to take a breath. A six-year-old stand-up? Yes! A sex therapist who speaks in a series of euphemisms? Right here! And now Linda’s back to direct a guy she’s randomly selected from the audience through his ’screen career,’ from entry level Doritos advert to Oscar winning triumph and beyond – in just five minutes!

Making her Edinburgh Fringe debut, Brakeman delivers her cleverly scripted lines with consummate skill, and the whip-smart, snarky one-liners flow like honey laced with vinegar. It’s more than just a series of laughs. It also nails the cynicism and hypocrisy of the movie industry with deadly precision.

I leave convinced that Brakeman (already a major name online, with over sixty million views) is destined to play much bigger venues than this one. 

So catch her superb show now in the intimate setting of The Gilded Balloon. Who knows? You could be Linda Hollywood’s next big thing!

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

Ellie MacPherson: Happy Birthday, Mr. President!

11/08/22

Underbelly Cowgate (Big Belly), Edinburgh

Ellie MacPherson is a new name to me but, from the moment she saunters onto the stage, dressed as Marilyn Monroe, to deliver the titular song, I’m sold. She has a cheery personality and and a grin radiant enough to light up even the dingy, malodorous setting of Big Belly – one of the Fringe’s less inviting venues. She’s accompanied by a three-piece band, all dressed like CIA goons, complete with dark glasses – a nice touch.

Happy Birthday, Mr President! is a mash up: part history lesson, part stand-up, part cabaret set – and the fact that all the pieces fit so perfectly together, is testament to MacPherson’s evident skills. In one hour, she skips merrily through the forty-five American presidents (thus far), lingering here and there on more interesting aspects of their personalities.

I’m surprised (and slightly embarrassed) to learn how many of them I’ve never even heard of and I’m amazed to learn that so many of them had… issues. A president who couldn’t read or write? How does that work? One who liked to swim naked every day. Erm, sure, why not? And one who took a little girl as his ward and married her just as soon as she was old enough? Ewww. The song McPherson chooses to illustrate this story has never sounded quite so disturbing.

It helps that MacPherson has a terrific voice and a genuinely thrilling vocal range. My initial doubts that she can comfortably cram all those disparate characters into one hour are quickly dispelled. This is a terrific show: absorbing, informative and often laugh-out-loud funny.

Catch it if you can.

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney

Fills Monkey: We Will Drum You

10/08/22

Pleasance Courtyard (Grand), Edinburgh

Back in the day, I was one of those guys who liked to get wasted and hang out with musicians. You know? A drummer. So the idea of Fills Monkey really appeals to me. Two guys hitting the skins for an hour? Sign me up! But is that enough to fill an entire slot on the Edinburgh Fringe?

The answer is a resounding ‘YES!’ Sebastian Rambaud and Yann Coste are two brilliant percussionists, the kind of people you imagine could go through an entire day without ever breaking beat. They begin with conventional sets of drums, hammering out thrilling polyrhythms as the audience claps along. But they have an air of competitiveness about them and the stakes keep rising. Did you know that drums can be played with a whole variety of implements. Pan scrubbers. Hammers. Food mixers. A chain saw?

It really helps that the two percussionists are also accomplished clowns. Working under the direction of Daniél Briere, they’ve devised a show that switches back and forth through a whole series of scenarios, never lingering too long in one place to ever feel repetitive. Once the conventional drums have been battered into submission, there are synth drums to play with, voice recorders and a whole package of technical wonders that allow the two men to play entire rock songs just by hitting things. And it’s amazing how many classic rock songs can be identified by their beat alone.

The audience at The Grand are lapping it up – particularly the youngsters. (Seriously, if you have energetic kids along with you this is the perfect show for them.) The frenzy steadily rises to a suitably spectacular crescendo.

A final thought. If you’re suffering from the effects of a hangover, this might not be the best show for you – but, if you like your entertainment loud, reckless and super bombastic, Fills Monkey should definitely be on your ‘to see’ list. They promise to drum and and they do it with aplomb.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Jo Caulfield: Here Comes Trouble

10/08/22

The Stand Comedy Club (Stand 1), Edinburgh

With over 3000 shows to choose from at the Fringe, we usually try to avoid seeing the same performers every year, but there are a few exceptions. Like moths to bright flames, we keep coming back to see the latest offerings from Richard Herring, Paines Plough, Flabbergast, Chris Dugdale – and, of course, Jo Caulfield.

Comedy is a broad church, and we have catholic tastes. For us, Caulfield falls into the ‘Mary’s Milk Bar ice cream’ category, i.e. an Edinburgh classic promising pure enjoyment. You know what you’re getting and it never disappoints.

She takes a few moments to check out her audience (who’s seen her before, where people have come from) and then cautions us at the top: “What I do is, I talk about myself and about who’s annoyed me since last year. That’s what this is. You won’t learn anything”. Well, good. I like life-lesson comedy, but I don’t want it all the time. Caulfield is an entertainer, and I’m ready to be entertained.

And we’re off. The laughs keep coming, thick and fast. She’s an expert; she knows exactly how to make her material fly: when to push the boundaries and when to rein things in. The topics are wide-ranging – from her mum’s favourite TV programmes to nationalising the railways; from irksome neighbours to European mini-breaks – and all skewered with her trademark caustic wit. Her onstage persona is blisteringly impatient. “Fuck off!” she roars on more than one occasion, irritated by the idiocy – and sometimes mere existence – of other people (and crafters in particular). But there’s always that twinkle, that sly charm, that means she gets away with it.

We were tired when we arrived. Now we’re energised. We leave smiling, and head off to the pub.

4.6 stars

Susan Singfield

Emily Wilson: Fixed

09/08/22

Pleasance Courtyard (Beneath), Edinburgh

Emily Wilson’s Fixed is part musical, part stand-up and part catharsis. Clearly a born performer, Wilson takes us on a tour of her youth, from beaming toddler to broken teen. It’s all been chronicled, of course: she’s 26 years old, a whole lifetime of phone recordings and insta-chats and YouTube videos. Oh, and primetime national TV too.

That’s the crux of the story: Wilson appeared on The X Factor USA in 2011, as one half of the earnestly named duo, Ausem. “Because my best friend’s called Austin, and my name’s Emily, so together we’re Ausem!” She thought her dreams had come true: she was 15 and destined to become a star. But then they hit a snag. The judges decided they liked Austin, but not Emily…

Wilson’s tale, co-written and directed by Sam Blumenfeld, is compelling. She’s a vivacious, funny, talented woman – and, while she’s disarmingly self-deprecating, she’s justifiably pissed off. The X Factor nearly destroyed her. How is a child supposed to process such public humiliation? How do the powerful adults in charge legitimise hurting her for viewing figures, for more dollars in their bulging bank accounts? Do the haters on social media sleep well at night, knowing they’ve made a young girl cry?

The past is detailed via a series of video clips and diary entries, interspersed with stand-up and original songs revealing Wilson’s current perspective. What emerges is a thoughtful commentary on fame, ambition and exploitation, and it’s riveting.

Oh, and she really can sing. Whatever Nicole Sherzinger says.

4.6 stars

Susan Singfield

Zach Zucker: Spectacular Industry Showcase

08/08/22

Monkey Barrel 4, Blair Street

Zach Zucker isn’t entirely new to me (I saw him in 2018’s Where Does the Love Go?, in partnership with Viggo Venn), but he’s clearly much more familiar to the crowd packed into the sweltering confines of the Monkey Barrel. When he asks, ‘Who has seen me before?’ a large contingent shouts an enthusiastic ‘Yes!’ He launches into an opening song, his glitter shirt open to the waist, as he works through a series of Travolta-like moves to the sound of a keyboard accompaniment. The fact that the ceiling is mere inches above his head gives the impression that at any moment, he could smash headlong into it, but he manages to get through it without serious injury. Phew!

And then, abruptly, he’s into the stand-up routine and, it has to be said, his confidence is not misplaced. The crowd loves him. A guy sitting in front of me is at serious risk of falling off his chair.

It’s apparent from the word go that Zucker is supremely charismatic, able to ignite belly laughs with the merest sideways glance or throwaway gesture. Some comedians are funny because they have good. material and others because they are just funny in their bones. Zucker falls into the latter category and I cannot deny that he soon has me laughing like a maniac, particularly at the extended routine where he attempts to read a ‘serious’ poem in a weird approximation of a London accent. There’s also comedy gold to be found in the bit where he offers to improvise a rap about three random suggestions from the audience…

But, in a profession where content is king, this does feel increasingly like a sixty-minute slot that’s only got forty minutes worth of material to fill it. Zucker’s tendency to free form and ride on his audience’s evident enthusiasm occasionally feels a bit like repetition. Perhaps Spectacular Industry Showcase (I love the self-aggrandising title) is a work in progress and, over the Fringe run, he’ll add more substance to the pot. I really hope so. It won’t take more than a few extra belters to turn this promising show into a triumph.

Meanwhile, if you’re looking for laughs, make no mistake – you’ll certainly find them here.

3.7 stars

Philip Caveney

The Anniversary

08/08/22

Pleasance Dome

Jim (Daniel Tobias) and Barb (Clare Bartholomew) are eagerly preparing for their 50th wedding anniversary but they’re not always in control of things and some of the items in the finger buffet might better be avoided. Still, they stubbornly insist that every last detail must be just right for their guests. As the clock counts steadily down to party time, the problems become harder to deal with…

This handsomely mounted helping of slapstick from Australian company, Salvador Dinosaur, features no real dialogue, just gibberish and the occasional mention of each other’s names – but the soundtrack is far from silent. It’s essentially a piece about the indignities of ageing, replete with references to forgetfulness, dodgy bowels and the ill-advised over-application of both prescription drugs and prunes. It ought to be tragic but it’s somehow horribly funny.

There’s a delightfully constructed set, a central corridor using forced perspective to make the place seem bigger than it actually is, and cleverly constructed props, designed to fall apart at inappropriate moments. A (mostly) hidden technician takes care of the show’s other ‘performers’ – a cat, a rat and a cuddly rabbit. Tobias and Bartholomew throw themselves into the clowning with gusto. We’ve seen and been impressed by both performers at the Fringe before, Tobias in The Orchid and the Crow in 2015, and Bartholomew in The Long Pigs in 2019.

What begins as silly slapstick metamorphoses steadily into something darker. The weather deteriorates and soon there’s a full-blown thunderstorm and rising flood waters to contend with. There’s a charming scene where Jim improvises a song about his long suffering wife – some Elvis styled mumbling with the occasional ‘Barb’ thrown in for good measure – and Barb’s headlong tumble onto a table laden with food actually makes me gasp. While you can spot some of the gags coming a mile off – put a rabbit and a liquidiser into the same space and the result is both inevitable (and inedible) – The Anniversary nevertheless has me laughing pretty much from start to finish.

If the conclusion is undeniably OTT, it still reinforces the fact that a couple who have been together for fifty years are always going to stick it out to the bitter end, even if some of that sticking involves kitchen knives. Those who relish clowning should give this a go. But be warned, if Jim offers you a taste of his pâté, perhaps you’d best say you’ve already eaten.

4 stars

Philip Caveney