New Zealand's Brat Pack

Original Review:

There's really only one reason to see this collection of young Kiwi stand-ups - and that's the ultra-energetic Rhys Darby, who dementedly rattles through his manic material like an antipodean Lee Evans.

Otherwise we have Terry Frisby, whose been playing the London circuit for a good few months. His pervy sex-obsessed routine couldn't be any nearer the knuckle, but he mostly manages to get away with it, thanks to a certain boyish charm, providing a fair number of laughs for the less easily offended.

The other two, though, were spectacularly unremarkable. Chris Brain had an ill-fated bash at some topical material, but floundered and settled back into a much safer stream of knob gags, whereas Jeremy Elwood never even attempted anything different, staying in depressingly familiar waters.

And the dismal attempt at a Whose Line Is It Anyway improv game to bring the quartet together at the end was cringe-makingly ill-conceived, demonstrating only their inability to think on their feet.

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