Camden Fringe 2011 - Week 1

A little bit of context before we bite into apple of amateur reviewing: my attention this August is split between the Camden Fringe and the Edinburgh Festival Fringe - the former of which I'm spending as a volunteer at the lovely Etcetera Theatre for two weeks, and the latter of which I'm spending ten days at as a (very giddy) punter. What this means is that I will be seeing a lot of theatre and comedy this month and will probably not want to see anything after September 1st for the next DECADE*.

What this also means is that I'm going to try and get back into actually using this blog, lucky for you cats. So. Let's go. What have I been watching at the Etcetera this week?

*Anyone who knows me knows this is a big fat greasy pig of a lie.

Helen Keen: Robot Woman of the Future
Keen is one of my favourite kinds of people: she's passionate about what she loves in a way that means you can't help but be swept along with her. Her show about rocket science last year was like that, as was this preview of a work-in-progress Edinburgh show (that she's taking up there in 2012) about her relationship with the future. Of course, it was rough around the edges, the links were haphazard, and it didn't really have a clear sense of direction, but it was still very enjoyable. Besides, a preview is allowed to be an utter shambles, so it doesn't matter that it wasn't perfect - that's the point. She's definitely got the charm and the ideas to make it work by the time she does finish it, anyway, and that's what counts.

The Shoemaker's Wonderful Wife
I don't like saying I have favourites, but if I did this would definitely be one of them. The Shoemaker's Wonderful Wife by KUDASTS is a simple enough tale - wife and husband fight! Husband leaves! Eventually they realise they were made for each other! They get back together in the end! Even then they still fight! But they love each other so it's okay! - made special by use of music (continuous Spanish guitar - and ukulele - playing live in the background; occasional bursts of song at key points; all very beautiful) and use of set and space (a cloth circle laid down on the stage, within which the action happens, like a bullring). The result was a captivating and atmospheric performance with pleasing Spanish touches, and the acting was mostly spot-on. My only real criticism is that there was TOO MUCH SHOUTING; volume could have been played around with a little more, not only for effect but also to prevent the audience from developing a collective headache.

Alternative
As anyone who has paid attention to anything Ben Goldacre's ever done will know, homeopathy is (to put it lightly) nonsense, and that's what this comedy play - focusing on the trials and tribulations of a man with mysterious stomach pains and the effect this has on his interpersonal relationships - is about. While it was quietly and consistently funny, as well as, to be honest, quite sweet, it had its flaws: you're never entirely sure whether the aim is to educate audiences about the negative side of homeopathy or simply to preach to the converted; the reveal about his illness was somewhat unconvincing; there ended up being a fairly large, unexplained plothole regarding the character's strange blood results; and, in the end, the play seemed cynical about both "conventional" and "alternative" medicine, which I don't think was the point. However, it was well acted and well-staged, so it's enjoyable enough, but it's not perfect.

Permission to Cry
So here's a play about a female MP who loses her mind after her secret journalist girlfriend gets trampled to death by a police horse during a rally. While relevant, heartbreaking to watch and convincingly acted, yes, it fell down on the staging front - it needed to either be very minimalist or very... not, but instead it sat uncomfortably in between, with lighting changes that didn't really add to the play in the way that might have been intended. Also, though it was interesting to see the whole business of potential MP private life scandals being explored from a different light, the play ended a little too abruptly - a story should really go somewhere, whether you leave the end ambiguous or not, and sadly, this didn't.

Walk Like a Black Man
This comedy monologue about a half-black half-Indian man's race-related confusion was charming enough, and it did bring some nice laughs about an interesting topic, but I feel that it suffered (like Permission to Cry) from a lack of any real conclusion: a forty-minute monologue that ends up just going round in circles is not really the most satisfying thing to watch. There were also some pacing problems that I'm guessing were down primarily to nerves, but ultimately the show wasn't unbearable - it was just missing some really substance, some 'oomph' to make it really worthwhile.

The Next Best Man
To be honest, this try-out for a possible new radio sitcom left me with a bad taste in my mouth. The plot of this 'episode' was so convoluted and strange - I need to find a new best man because the other one has died! Also I slept with his widow after the funeral! Also I may or may not have got my best friend's girl-of-his-dreams (who is a stereotypical Eastern European immigrant dressed as a gypsy, har har fucking har) pregnant even though I've had a vasectomy! Or maybe I didn't have a vasectomy! Also I'm generally just a charmless bastard! Argh! - that I couldn't believe a word of it, and the characters were all idiots in a way that just really isn't entertaining. In terms of humour, many of the jokes were mean and obvious, poking fun at the vulnerable and quite heavily misogynistic in places in a way that would have been hard to get away with in the 70s, never mind now; there was also a lot of word-play that completely fell flat and pop-culture references that were neither relevant nor helpful. Also unhelpful was the use of ALL THE LIGHTS IN THE THEATRE, which was apparently to add to the feel of the action taking place in a cafe (you know, with those harsh flourescent lights, or something) - unnecessary because the set made it very clear that it was a cafe, no problem there, and because all it did was make it look like a stage with a lot of lights on it. Not great, all in all.

Once Upon A Sketch
Long story short: it started well. It really did. I found their job centre sketch quite funny the first time, as well as the character who turned up to trick-or-treat months in advance and responded to having this pointed out to him by just standing there and saying, "I'll wait." Anyway, I was enjoying myself, laughing away even though there were a few problems with lazy humour (like in their Pinocchio sketch, the punchline of which rested on there being two broomsticks instead of one - I'm sure you can fill in the blanks yourselves) and one character who was a very obvious rip-off of Catherine Tate's Nan - until about half-way through, when I realised this is all they've got. The recurring characters and jokes just recurred, they didn't develop in any way, and they seemed to have been relied upon so heavily that the stand-alone sketches were never as tight as they could have been. So like I said: it started well - it just ended up suffering from Little Britain syndrome.

The Forbidden Wardrobe
It's a silly little musical play about transvestites with catchy songs that didn't take itself seriously at all, which is just what I needed and just what I like. I actually saw it on both of the nights it was on because I enjoyed it so much. The jokes were spot-on, the songs were catchy, the characters were endearing (and, in the case of the Elvis-type character who took on several different roles - Jehovah's Witness, bastard boss-type and ex-boyfriend -, a TRUE HERO) and the shoehorned-in political message - support the Art's Council and don't vote Tory or Lib Dem next election, basically - at the end was dealt with in such a pleasingly-lighthearted way that it wasn't at all annoying in the way it could have been. Probably the highlight of my week, this one.


So there we are. Roll on week two!

Some Recommendations

There are too many good comedy nights out there in London at the moment, making it pretty hard to know which ones you should be putting in your face and which ones can wait. Therefore, I have compiled a list of three regular nights currently on that are well worth your time and legal tender. You can trust me on these.


Alternative Comedy Memorial Society (or, The Captain Planet Repertory Theatre Company)

If you like your comedy a little surreal and a lot chaotic, you should definitely attend ACMS. Run by Thom Tuck and John-Luke Roberts, it's essentially an arena for some pretty great comedians to deviate from the norm (or, if I'm honest, do stuff that might not go down as well at a typical comedy club) - hold a Q&A with a piñata, dress up as male genitalia, perform in a foreign language, that kind of thing. There's even a call and response at the end of every act, as well as a list of permitted heckles and a regular stage reproduction of an episode of Captain Planet, so if that sounds like your bag, go along and prepare to be both in pain (from laughter, mind) and puzzlement by the end of the evening.

Alternative Comedy Memorial Society is on every fortnight on a Tuesday at the New Red Lion in Islington. Click here for more information and to book tickets if you fancy it.


Every Other Monday

It's a new material night, it's free and it has great line-ups (including acts like Helen Arney, the Behemoth, Dr. Broderick Chow, Sarah Benetto and Elis James). What else do I need to say? Oh fine, I'll tell you more. Tom Goodliffe hosts this night so that comics can fiddle about with fresh material for Edinburgh shows and what have you, expecting nothing more than a willing audience and maybe an e-mail address or two on the mailing list. There's not much more to be said except that it's a really lovely night in a tiny room with a cosy atmosphere. Totally worth your support.

Every Other Monday is on every fortnight on a Monday (whodathunkit?) at the Black Heart Pub in Camden. Click here for more information.


Sideways Smile

It's silly that the "are women funny?" debate has yet to become obsolete when you have nights like Sideways Smile, a monthly comedy night with an all-female line-up hosted by the delightful Danielle Ward. It's new and it's great, which is exactly why you should give it a look. With headliners like Lucy Porter and Hattie Hayridge, as well as house band The Balconettes (aka Helen Arney, Rachael Parris and Danielle Ward - think about how good you think they might be and multiply that by 100) and other hilarious women like Celia Paquola and Isy Suttie, it's not only a celebration of ladies in comedy but also a genuinely great evening. Oh, and the venue's lovely too. Go.

Sideways Smile is on at the end of every month at the Royal Vauxhall Tavern. Click here for more information and to book tickets, which I know you definitely will now you've read this.


So there you go. Three good nights that you will probably definitely enjoy (and if you don't, well, try not to hurt me). Hooray!

14/02/11: Festival of the Spoken Nerd - Upstairs at the Green Man

There’s no denying that Festival of the Spoken Nerd, the monthly comedy night run by Helen Arney, Mat Parker and Steve Mould, has fairly niche appeal, but that doesn’t stop it from being one of the most delightful comedy nights in London. I had my first experience of it on Valentine’s Day and definitely think it was the best way to have spent my evening.

First things first: it’s not slick. It doesn’t purport to be, it doesn’t want to be, and the tiny top-of-a-pub room it’s held in wouldn’t allow it to be if it did. From the projector being held in place by condiments to Arney forgetting which way round to introduce Mould and Parker, it really is quite a ramshackle night, but what it lacks in immaculate organisation it makes up for with charm, friendliness and some really funny jokes involving graphs. Helen Arney’s beautiful, nerdy songs – old and new – pepper the show in between sections from regulars Parker and Mould (this month: evolutionary biology and sexy shapes), as well as guest contributions in the form of sexologist confessions from Dr Glenn Wilson and a headline set from the absolute must-see that is stand-up Sara Pascoe. The eclectic mix means there really is something for everyone, no matter what level of nerd you are.

What really makes it is the audience, however. The small venue allows for a cosy atmosphere – possibly the cosiest I’ve ever been a part of, gig-wise – and participation is encouraged in the form of experiments and time for questions at the end of each section, even if they’re not strictly related. It feels more like a Geekoholics Anonymous meeting than a comedy night at times (which is a good thing, I hasten to add).

FOTSN isn’t aiming to poke fun at anything – it’s just a celebration of all things nerd; a comedy night with a difference that’ll ‘make ya think’ whilst making your cheeks ache with laughter at the same time.

Festival of the Spoken Nerd is on monthly at the Green Man, Riding House Street, London. Click here to book tickets and find details about future line-ups.

08/02/11: Kevin Eldon is Titting About - Soho Theatre

The Actor Kevin Eldon is a face a lot of people are used to by now, even if they have no idea why: he's like a subliminal message, except not. His CV is ridiculous - Smack the Pony, Fist of Fun, Brass Eye, Spaced, Black Books and so much more - and rightly so, because he is an unspeakably good actor. It turns out, however, that he is also an amazing stand-up, as he proved when he took his first ever one-man show to the Edinburgh Fringe last year. It's currently enjoying a long run at London's Soho Theatre, which I'm very grateful for since I've finally had the chance to see why this show was the talk of the (Scottish) town last August.

And, oh, what a show it was.

You are primarily just watching Eldon mess about on a stage for fifty minutes, of course, and he does it in such a way that he fools you into thinking everything you're seeing is spontaneous and simple, but it's not. Underneath the bubbly, bouncy surface of Eldon's world of obnoxious characters and babbling is clearly something very well-crafted and carefully-observed, and his attention to detail and timing is stunning.

Mostly playing "himself" while dipping between different characters such as poet Paul Hamilton, an arrogant Frenchman who can't speak English and a pension salesman with a heroin addiction, he talks about his process for coming up with the show, rips the shit out of all manner of comedy and theatre clichés, and sings a couple of hilarious songs as well. He's managed to pack so much into just fifty minutes that sometimes even he can't seem to keep up with himself.

Even though there's a lot of mockery and irritation in his material, particularly on the subject of the upward inflection, it's primarily a very joy-filled show. This is intensified by just how much he is visibly enjoying himself on stage; it's infectious.

There's so much to take in that it's impossible to pick a favourite moment or say much more without this getting much longer and more gushing than it already is. I will say one more thing, though: the show is an absolutely must-see for anyone with even a passing interest in comedy. Go. Go now.

Kevin Eldon is Titting About is on at the Soho Theatre until 19 February 2011. View details and book tickets here.

Hello again.

Remember what I said about my initial, ambitious beginnings last August?

No. No, you don't, and that's precisely the point. I intended for this to contain semi-regular reviews and opinion posts about UK comedy, but instead of DOING that I ran away and hid for a few months while giving you the silent treatment. Sorry. I promise it's me that's the problem, not you.

I remembered to come back to this after I realised I could hear my bank account whimpering and begging for mercy. You see, live comedy recently woke up again, and while trying to put it all in my face on a very low budget I've found myself inspired to write about it. Which is nice. So look forward to some actual proper posts about stuffs and thing very soon.

Edinburgh Season.

I apologise for a lack of activity in spite of my initial, ambitious beginnings. It has been a busy time for me. It has also been a busy time for comedy, you see, what with it being Edinburgh season and all; everyone has been rushing to do previews of their material to make sure the people who pay proper money to see them up in Scotland actually, um, laugh - and I have been rushing to see them. It's okay to fuck up down in London around this time: in late July, it's simply the done thing. And anyway, I rather enjoy being able to witness the creative process as an audience member - I'm sure it's far less tiring than if you're, say, the partner or a close friend of a comedian, or if you're the comedian yourself.

And yet, as the preview audience - as mere strangers, looming menacingly in the rows of seats a comic is faced with nightly, our judging faces mercifully untouched by the glaring stage lights -, our lazy contribution is valued beyond belief. We are the funny gauge - our only job is to laugh or otherwise forever hold our peace. We're important - we can inform a comedian about where some material needs tidying and cutting, and where some needs to be fleshed out; where the big laughs are, and whether things are heading the right direction generally. Helping professional comedians create their final Edinburgh shows is as satisfying as seeing the final shows themselves.

Another major bonus is that previews tend to be dirt cheap, so even if the show you paid to see wasn't at its funniest, it's not like you wasted much money. For various reasons, I only attended three actual previews this year (Gutted, Daniel Kitson and WitTank), but I don't mind this too much because I have seen various others do new bits and bobs at other comedy nights, and because of the Camden Fringe. I used to get incredibly bitter about the fact that I will not be able to attend the Edinburgh Fringe Festival for several years yet, but now I know that is a foolish, selfish way to feel. Yes, live comedy in London dries up slightly during the summer, but we've got it to ourselves for the rest of the year - a perfectly fair trade, in my opinion.

Coming soon: actual posts about live comedy, featuring WitTank, Andrew Williams, gushing about my favourite London comedy night and various acts at the Camden Fringe this year.

"A contraceptive misadventure."

(Copied from another blog. Let's get the ball rolling with a bit of a general post.)

Yesterday morning, I got up early to see two editions of Rufus Hound's Teenage Diaries being recorded at the Drill Hall. Sheila Hancock read from the diary she'd kept during her six-week holiday in France as a fourteen year old girl, telling us about some incredibly life-changing moments which I found rather heart-warming. Victoria Coren then told us about her teenage obsessions with boys and her weight, as well as the strange way in which she, at the time, dismissed the media career of her adolescence as commonplace and boring. I think if I'd known the teenage Victoria Coren, I'd've fucking loathed her, but I would have probably still tried it on with her.

Much later on in the day, I trundled off to Battersea Arts Centre to see a preview of Daniel Kitson's Edinburgh show, "It's Always Right Now Until It's Later". It was, in a word, mind-blowing. I have no idea what I thought Kitson would be like (this was my first time seeing him perform), but I'm glad I approached him with a mind empty of expectations or I might have been disappointed.

If you're planning on seeing Kitson's Edinburgh show at some point and don't want to be 'spoiled', I suggest you scroll to the end of this post, where I start talking vaguely about some telly.


With this show, he was taking a story-telling approach, but it wasn't really comedy. It wasn't a funny story; it was a story with some jokes. I got the feeling that his main aim really wasn't to make everyone piss themselves with laughter.

Let me try to explain. In this show, he tells the stories of two people, and the only way in which they are in any way connected is by one, insignificant moment where they brushed each other on a bus. The show is about, well, life: how even the most insignificant of events can mean something to someone, even if in the grand scheme of things it means absolutely nothing. Obviously, what with it being a preview (he'd told us he only finished writing the show yesterday morning), it was a bit messy in places where he forgot his words or ran out of steam and had to consult his script. Having said that, it was still marvellously, cleverly put together - cross-cutting between the two timelines with seemingly-irrelevant but interesting tangents - and I'm sure that when he finally can deliver it properly for Edinburgh it will be much less of a slog.

A note on the set, which I fucking adored: the stage was completely plain expect for the several light-bulbs hanging from the ceiling at various heights. They were all lit throughout the show, but whenever Kitson zoned in on a particular moment (he told the stories by jumping back and forth between the timelines of each character, jumping backwards and forwards in their lives, focusing on a different, important moment with every scene change to paint clearer pictures of these people), one particular light-blub would shine brighter to symbolise said moment's sudden significance. When he wasn't sitting on the chair, reading from the script the bits he couldn't quite deliver from memory, he would walk to the part of the stage with the brightest light-blub and talk at it, like a comedian might talk to an audience member in the front row.

If you're seeing him in Edinburgh, you will not be disappointed, but you may leave the venue with the feeling I had last night - a sort of heavy melancholy I couldn't really understand. The show makes you think.

'Spoilers' end here.


Today I have a day-off from live comedy, so I've had the chance to catch up on Monday's Rev and yesterday's That Mitchell & Webb Look.

A note on the former: I think it is becoming one of my favourite sitcoms of all time. It's definitely not laugh-out-loud funny, but that's because it doesn't want to be. Instead, it's cosy, and it's sweet, and the characters seem like real people with real lives (as opposed to the larger-than-life types typical of, say, The Vicar of Dibley). It's wonderful.

A note on the latter: do you remember Series 3, boys? Do you? What happened? Why have you gone back to being of a similar quality to the first two serieseseseses? Obviously I'm adoring the After the Event sketches, and this week's final sketch (once it stopped being a little boring) was delightfully bleak, but the rest of it was just a bit 'meh'. Why are you still running with Hennimore? And why did you use a red button sketch from a previous week in this week's show? I don't understand.