Richard Perry - Live Review

You might think a gala launch would have some sense of occasion. Not so the Brighton Comedy Fringe, whose opening night was hosted by a compere who seemed to take a perverse pride in draining the energy from the room, while a couple of the acts seemed reluctant to be there. Enthusiasm, let alone showmanship, was thin on the ground.

As MC, Nicky Mitchell has to take prime responsibility for setting the mood, so it doesn’t auger well when her main, recurring joke is about how badly she’s doing, with frequent references to her mood-killing contributions. Still, she sang The Bare Necessities, which cheered us up, while an utterly surreal opening scene was refreshingly bonkers, even if her low-key approach meant she didn’t fully celebrate the absurdity of the situation and make it funny as well as odd.

Richard Perry was a worse offender, complaining of his hangover and how he was never meant to be doing this gig, called in, as he was, at the last moment. Deadpan at the best of times, his extra-subdued delivery tonight befitted a man in his delicate state, but it’s quite a slog to listen to, especially as the writing isn’t always as brisk as it could be. Yet he has some nice offbeat ideas and neat punchlines, so why not display them better? The only time the performance had any energy when he did an entertaining Alan Carr impression.

Chortle student comedy award-winner Adam Hess initially seemed to have caught the gig’s lethargy, too, but it wasn’t long until his nervy, convulsive delivery kicked in, giving a distinctive edge to his quirky one-liners. The gags come quickly, and he virtually batters the audience into laughter.

Putting more enthusiasm into the gig was Madam Galina, the oversized ballet diva played by Iestyn Edwards glissading along the line between cajoling and bullying as he put some audience ‘volunteers’ through their paces. It’s more gameshow-style fun than carefully crafted comedy, but the prima donna does does inject some much-needed fun into the night. Kudos, too, to the victim who injected some humour of his own into the piece – even if bossy Madam Galina doesn’t like to share the limelight.

After the interval came Gerry Howell, who tells us he’s been away from the circuit for a while. His rambling, scatterbrain style used to always draw comparisons with Eddie Izzard – so it didn’t help when he started talking in hesitant schoolboy French, given Izzard’s own adventures in the language. But he soon settled into his own voice. Unfortunately, this is a little long-winded, with a lot of unnecessary guff around the subjects as he repeatedly pats his breast pockets in a strange nervous tic. Like Perry he has strong punchlines, and the laughs that do come are hearty ones, but they are too well-spaced.

Finally, Mark Allen, who hosts a regular comedy quiz called The Humble Quest For Universal Genius, the bastard child of QI and Shooting Stars, combining genuine knowledge with a strong sense of the absurd. Here we got but a short sample of a show that normally plays out over an entire evening, so the pace wasn’t quite right, but we all learned something about both peas and history while enjoying the light-touch shenanigans.

But overall this probably wasn’t the glorious showcase that this fringe deserved. There are some fine under-the-radar shows coming to the Three and Ten over the next couple of the weeks, as the big boys play the main comedy festival down the road, yet the gala didn’t really capture the best of them. Check the intimate venue’s listings for more.

Adam Hess - Live Review

You might think a gala launch would have some sense of occasion. Not so the Brighton Comedy Fringe, whose opening night was hosted by a compere who seemed to take a perverse pride in draining the energy from the room, while a couple of the acts seemed reluctant to be there. Enthusiasm, let alone showmanship, was thin on the ground.

As MC, Nicky Mitchell has to take prime responsibility for setting the mood, so it doesn’t auger well when her main, recurring joke is about how badly she’s doing, with frequent references to her mood-killing contributions. Still, she sang The Bare Necessities, which cheered us up, while an utterly surreal opening scene was refreshingly bonkers, even if her low-key approach meant she didn’t fully celebrate the absurdity of the situation and make it funny as well as odd.

Richard Perry was a worse offender, complaining of his hangover and how he was never meant to be doing this gig, called in, as he was, at the last moment. Deadpan at the best of times, his extra-subdued delivery tonight befitted a man in his delicate state, but it’s quite a slog to listen to, especially as the writing isn’t always as brisk as it could be. Yet he has some nice offbeat ideas and neat punchlines, so why not display them better? The only time the performance had any energy when he did an entertaining Alan Carr impression.

Chortle student comedy award-winner Adam Hess initially seemed to have caught the gig’s lethargy, too, but it wasn’t long until his nervy, convulsive delivery kicked in, giving a distinctive edge to his quirky one-liners. The gags come quickly, and he virtually batters the audience into laughter.

Putting more enthusiasm into the gig was Madam Galina, the oversized ballet diva played by Iestyn Edwards glissading along the line between cajoling and bullying as he put some audience ‘volunteers’ through their paces. It’s more gameshow-style fun than carefully crafted comedy, but the prima donna does does inject some much-needed fun into the night. Kudos, too, to the victim who injected some humour of his own into the piece – even if bossy Madam Galina doesn’t like to share the limelight.

After the interval came Gerry Howell, who tells us he’s been away from the circuit for a while. His rambling, scatterbrain style used to always draw comparisons with Eddie Izzard – so it didn’t help when he started talking in hesitant schoolboy French, given Izzard’s own adventures in the language. But he soon settled into his own voice. Unfortunately, this is a little long-winded, with a lot of unnecessary guff around the subjects as he repeatedly pats his breast pockets in a strange nervous tic. Like Perry he has strong punchlines, and the laughs that do come are hearty ones, but they are too well-spaced.

Finally, Mark Allen, who hosts a regular comedy quiz called The Humble Quest For Universal Genius, the bastard child of QI and Shooting Stars, combining genuine knowledge with a strong sense of the absurd. Here we got but a short sample of a show that normally plays out over an entire evening, so the pace wasn’t quite right, but we all learned something about both peas and history while enjoying the light-touch shenanigans.

But overall this probably wasn’t the glorious showcase that this fringe deserved. There are some fine under-the-radar shows coming to the Three and Ten over the next couple of the weeks, as the big boys play the main comedy festival down the road, yet the gala didn’t really capture the best of them. Check the intimate venue’s listings for more.

Gerry Howell - Live Review

You might think a gala launch would have some sense of occasion. Not so the Brighton Comedy Fringe, whose opening night was hosted by a compere who seemed to take a perverse pride in draining the energy from the room, while a couple of the acts seemed reluctant to be there. Enthusiasm, let alone showmanship, was thin on the ground.

As MC, Nicky Mitchell has to take prime responsibility for setting the mood, so it doesn’t auger well when her main, recurring joke is about how badly she’s doing, with frequent references to her mood-killing contributions. Still, she sang The Bare Necessities, which cheered us up, while an utterly surreal opening scene was refreshingly bonkers, even if her low-key approach meant she didn’t fully celebrate the absurdity of the situation and make it funny as well as odd.

Richard Perry was a worse offender, complaining of his hangover and how he was never meant to be doing this gig, called in, as he was, at the last moment. Deadpan at the best of times, his extra-subdued delivery tonight befitted a man in his delicate state, but it’s quite a slog to listen to, especially as the writing isn’t always as brisk as it could be. Yet he has some nice offbeat ideas and neat punchlines, so why not display them better? The only time the performance had any energy when he did an entertaining Alan Carr impression.

Chortle student comedy award-winner Adam Hess initially seemed to have caught the gig’s lethargy, too, but it wasn’t long until his nervy, convulsive delivery kicked in, giving a distinctive edge to his quirky one-liners. The gags come quickly, and he virtually batters the audience into laughter.

Putting more enthusiasm into the gig was Madam Galina, the oversized ballet diva played by Iestyn Edwards glissading along the line between cajoling and bullying as he put some audience ‘volunteers’ through their paces. It’s more gameshow-style fun than carefully crafted comedy, but the prima donna does does inject some much-needed fun into the night. Kudos, too, to the victim who injected some humour of his own into the piece – even if bossy Madam Galina doesn’t like to share the limelight.

After the interval came Gerry Howell, who tells us he’s been away from the circuit for a while. His rambling, scatterbrain style used to always draw comparisons with Eddie Izzard – so it didn’t help when he started talking in hesitant schoolboy French, given Izzard’s own adventures in the language. But he soon settled into his own voice. Unfortunately, this is a little long-winded, with a lot of unnecessary guff around the subjects as he repeatedly pats his breast pockets in a strange nervous tic. Like Perry he has strong punchlines, and the laughs that do come are hearty ones, but they are too well-spaced.

Finally, Mark Allen, who hosts a regular comedy quiz called The Humble Quest For Universal Genius, the bastard child of QI and Shooting Stars, combining genuine knowledge with a strong sense of the absurd. Here we got but a short sample of a show that normally plays out over an entire evening, so the pace wasn’t quite right, but we all learned something about both peas and history while enjoying the light-touch shenanigans.

But overall this probably wasn’t the glorious showcase that this fringe deserved. There are some fine under-the-radar shows coming to the Three and Ten over the next couple of the weeks, as the big boys play the main comedy festival down the road, yet the gala didn’t really capture the best of them. Check the intimate venue’s listings for more.

Mark Allen - Live Review

You might think a gala launch would have some sense of occasion. Not so the Brighton Comedy Fringe, whose opening night was hosted by a compere who seemed to take a perverse pride in draining the energy from the room, while a couple of the acts seemed reluctant to be there. Enthusiasm, let alone showmanship, was thin on the ground.

As MC, Nicky Mitchell has to take prime responsibility for setting the mood, so it doesn’t auger well when her main, recurring joke is about how badly she’s doing, with frequent references to her mood-killing contributions. Still, she sang The Bare Necessities, which cheered us up, while an utterly surreal opening scene was refreshingly bonkers, even if her low-key approach meant she didn’t fully celebrate the absurdity of the situation and make it funny as well as odd.

Richard Perry was a worse offender, complaining of his hangover and how he was never meant to be doing this gig, called in, as he was, at the last moment. Deadpan at the best of times, his extra-subdued delivery tonight befitted a man in his delicate state, but it’s quite a slog to listen to, especially as the writing isn’t always as brisk as it could be. Yet he has some nice offbeat ideas and neat punchlines, so why not display them better? The only time the performance had any energy when he did an entertaining Alan Carr impression.

Chortle student comedy award-winner Adam Hess initially seemed to have caught the gig’s lethargy, too, but it wasn’t long until his nervy, convulsive delivery kicked in, giving a distinctive edge to his quirky one-liners. The gags come quickly, and he virtually batters the audience into laughter.

Putting more enthusiasm into the gig was Madam Galina, the oversized ballet diva played by Iestyn Edwards glissading along the line between cajoling and bullying as he put some audience ‘volunteers’ through their paces. It’s more gameshow-style fun than carefully crafted comedy, but the prima donna does does inject some much-needed fun into the night. Kudos, too, to the victim who injected some humour of his own into the piece – even if bossy Madam Galina doesn’t like to share the limelight.

After the interval came Gerry Howell, who tells us he’s been away from the circuit for a while. His rambling, scatterbrain style used to always draw comparisons with Eddie Izzard – so it didn’t help when he started talking in hesitant schoolboy French, given Izzard’s own adventures in the language. But he soon settled into his own voice. Unfortunately, this is a little long-winded, with a lot of unnecessary guff around the subjects as he repeatedly pats his breast pockets in a strange nervous tic. Like Perry he has strong punchlines, and the laughs that do come are hearty ones, but they are too well-spaced.

Finally, Mark Allen, who hosts a regular comedy quiz called The Humble Quest For Universal Genius, the bastard child of QI and Shooting Stars, combining genuine knowledge with a strong sense of the absurd. Here we got but a short sample of a show that normally plays out over an entire evening, so the pace wasn’t quite right, but we all learned something about both peas and history while enjoying the light-touch shenanigans.

But overall this probably wasn’t the glorious showcase that this fringe deserved. There are some fine under-the-radar shows coming to the Three and Ten over the next couple of the weeks, as the big boys play the main comedy festival down the road, yet the gala didn’t really capture the best of them. Check the intimate venue’s listings for more.

Nathan Penlington - Live Review

Of all the tricks Uri Geller pulled off, the most incredible has to be how he came to be so famous. He is a man primarily known for the conjuror’s illusion of spoon-bending – yet by ascribing the trick to psychic ability he became inexplicably massive in the Seventies, not only appearing in children’s games and comic books, but landing lucrative contracts with oil companies to ‘divine’ for hidden reserves. Maybe his psychically charged orange dots have something going for them after all.

This strange friend of Michael Jackson’s might be an easy comic target, but Nathan Penlington approaches in it a subtle way, professing to be in awe of the man, so both able to laud him and undermine him at the same time. Geller is never held up to simple ridicule, but he’s presented as, at the very least, an impressive showman. His odd beliefs – from numerology to alien encounters – are played with a reasonably straight bat; enough, indeed, to win Penlington an endorsement from the famously litigious man himself.

And there’s clearly some devotion gone into the research. Not only has Penlington bought up all his biographies – none of which can have cost him more than 1p on Amazon – but he’s gone as a far as tracking down a 1975 copy of Woman’s Realm as it contains an interview with his hero.

All this is interesting stuff, and Penlington’s metaphorically raised eyebrow with which he presents it is enough to make it entertaining as a dryly witty storytelling show. But the biographical elements are primarily a device on which Penlington can demonstrate a few of his own tricks in the mould of Geller (or even the avowedly non-mystic Derren Brown). Such set pieces, presented matter-of-factly with little showmanship, are not all entirely unfathomable, but the ones that aren’t are impressive indeed.

By the end of the show – still a work-in progress for Edinburgh – we’re none the wiser about what Penlington really thinks about the self-made guru, but we’ve got a new-found admiration for both performer and his subject.

Katy Schutte - Live Review

An interesting take on improv, this, for anyone brought up on the quickfire, gag-driven games of Whose Line Is It Anyway? or the Comedy Store Players. Here Katy Schutte and Rachel Blackman make up a long-form story, taking the entire hour and comprising just four long scenes, without a single audience suggestion in earshot, not even to start it off.

What ensues is an impressive theatrical exercise, as they establish and maintain believable characters without faltering. All of us improvise long dialogue every day of course – it’s called having a conversation – but few of even the friendliest chats would run this smoothly.

It’s not, however, a particularly funny piece, although billed as comedy. The personalities they create – in this case including a gun-toting farmer, his bird-watching mate, a mischievous pensioner and precocious six-year-old – are warm, credible and quirky, but rarely exchange sharp one-liners.

In fact, the pair often let opportunities to go down comic routes pass. One reason is that they won’t say anything to undermine what the other has said in the heat of the moment, even if it’s slightly ridiculous and ripe for mockery. Sustaining both characters and the dramatic integrity of the scenes is more important than getting the laughs. Similarly, chances for proceedings to take an overdramatic turn are ignored… that shotgun, for example, is never used in anger against anything more threatening than an imaginary empty tin can.

It means scenes, and indeed the whole show, end without closure, we just move on when the characters run out of things to say. It’s like dipping into a long-running soap opera without knowing how any storyline is resolved.

That said, it’s impossible not to be taken with Katy and Rachel’s talents at creating such credible scenarios with no roadmap, and sustaining free-flowing and engaging dialogue. They did strike a comic seam at one point in this Brighton Fringe performance, albeit one that relied largely on them deadpanning rude words – but primarily this is a technically impressive achievement more than comedy gold.

Bay Citee Molars - Live Review

It’s not that often you feel sorry for dentists. But this comedy-music group drawn from the profession almost outnumber the audience in this lunchtime Fringe show – and it makes for an awkward atmosphere.

They are not ready to deviate from the script either, so they go through their warm-ups of practice whoops and hollers, then later try to entice the six-strong audience into some silly participation, despite how self-conscious it makes both punters and performers feel.

But when we’re left to our passive enjoyment, this talented quartet – plus an accomplice to prompt audience reaction – demonstrate some impressive close-harmony singing, even if the comedy element is limited.

Had you wanted a suave, senior medical figure, Central Casting couldn’t have sent anyone more suitable than lead singer DK Molarr. Behind his awful punny alias, he’s the epitome of the well-spoken consultant, with an inherently reassuring chair-side manner which he puts to good use in charming the audience.

Pitch-perfect backing vocals are supplied by the beautiful Nina, with a voice to match her stunning appearance, and her blonde, slightly kookier, partner-in-harmony, Tina; while Dave Green provides guitar and the fourth voice, as well as a break from the all-dental line-up, being a gardener.

Ah yes, the dental theme. You might think there are only so many comedy songs you can do abut dentistry, and you’d be right. Once you’ve done the obligatory ‘oral’ double entendre, you’re pretty much done, though the Bay Citee Molars do manage to string the mouth-based wordplay out over several songs, however thinly.

There’s something very old-fashioned about their work; not just in the style of music they choose to perform, but in the cosy lyrics and the well-drilled (sorry) professionalism. Their show, which is sweetly light-heated rather than outright hilarious, wouldn’t be out of place in a Fifties Oxbridge common room.

Surely aware of the limitations of their gimmick, the foursome do undertake some songs away from the dental-based theme; a Beach Boys-style surfing song being the most impressive; while they add a level of composed silliness by frequently accompanying themselves on kazoo. Turns out, they’re adept at this, too.

Musically very strong, Bay Citee Molars would make an entertaining turn in a cabaret bill, although over a full show, and in a very quiet room, their limitations are exposed. But they remain sweetly enjoyable. Trust me, this won’t hurt at all…

Three Englishmen - Live Review

On the face of it, the Three Englishmen could just be another post-university sketch troupe, slick twentysomething middle-class lads going through the motions of comedy.

But the quartet – oh yes, that’s the first joke right there – have got some sharp comic instincts to match their unquestionably strong performances, and although they sometimes falter, their strike rate is remarkably high for such relative newcomers.

Stylistically, they are not going to rock any boats, although they do tinker a little with what you might expect, performing one sketch in mime, for example, or making a cute musical number out of such an everyday task as making breakfast. But while what they do tends towards the middle of the road, they do execute it very well.

There’s an underlying sweetness to most skits – even one revolving around an Al Qaeda kidnap video. Their affectionate mockery of middle-aged, God-fearing Irishwomen discussing their vacuum cleaners is particularly effective, while a teenager stumbling awkwardly though his French oral exam is given heart and pathos.

Sometimes they over-indulge themselves, the physical humour of their Top Gun spoof isn’t as funny as they think it is, and a couple of scenes outstay their welcome – although for the most part a fair pace is set.

And can sketch groups please stop writing the same sketch three times? A clever callback is one thing, but their scene when a dramatic moment is interrupted by cheesy organ music is not improved by being played out with three different set-ups. On TV such repetition can be infuriating enough, but an hour-long live show doesn’t need to try to establish catchphrases in such a blunt way.

But quibbles aside, there’s a lot to admire here – not least in the stage presence of all involved, which is usually brilliantly professional, but loose enough to let their obvious choking back of giggles only add to the good humour. At times, various of them bring to mind the instant grotesques of Matt Lucas or, surprisingly, the sardonic deadpan of Iain Lee – but they can turn their characters on a penny, so it’s never derivative.

Like so many sketch teams, there’s a bit of work to be done to increase the strike rate, but this charismatic foursome certainly has the raw materials for an impressive future.

Clever Peter - Live Review

Clever Peter set a cracking pace, charging through sketches as if they’re against the clock. Sometimes it’s refreshing, and sometimes it seems to be because they’ve only got one germ of an idea and they quickly move on before you can think: ‘Is that it?’

Some running themes give the show an extra dimension, however, as scenes you might initially dismiss as oddly frivolous later take on added meaning. For although inconsistent, there are some gems here. The clear stars of the hour are Terry, the misogynistic Cockney, and his dour, nasal drinking buddy Kenny, who capture the hilariously dreary spirit of Pete and Dud, with a script that contains more than a couple of genuinely funny surprises. Other big ticks go to their doctor delivering bad news in unusual fashion, and their ‘cake fairy’, who best demonstrates the slapstick physicality that these forceful performers are adept at.

These three lads – in tatty primary-colour jumpers – are not afraid to breach the fourth wall, either, commenting that they’ve let their accents slip or criticising their own clunky scene-setters such as a character unconvincingly asserting: ‘I love being a builder, me!’ This – and their female characters who are the least convincing women since Monty Python’s heyday – adds a human touch to their slick, convincing delivery.

Then there are the misses: the old-fashioned library sketch where absolute silence is demanded that disintegrates into half-hearted surrealism, breaking their own rules on pace by being played out too long; the accidental stalker who is an obvious character with a weak payoff; or the father berating his grown-up son for coming back too late. This, too, recalls a Pete and Dud sketch; but this time the comparison is a lot less flattering.

But the memorable moments easily compensate for the disappointments. Richard Bond, Edward Eales-White and William Hartley have been attracting a lot of acclaim over the two-and-a-half years they’ve been around, and while that might be premature, they certainly have an impressive energy, winning performance skills and – at times – an imaginatively funny script. Keep watching them, for one day they could astound.