Tim Harding's comedy diary

Reviewer Tim Harding gives a rundown of the comedy he's been watching in London - in the last two weeks.

As much as I’d like to be an empty channel through which comedy recommendations pass unobstructed, seeing as many shows as I do has the unwelcome side-effect of making me a little choosy about whose word I take as gospel and whose I season with a little salt.

I love the recent practice of comedians at Edinburgh recommending each other’s shows as part of their bucket speech, but sometimes it feels more instructive about comedians’ social circles and cliques rather than a transparent reflection of their taste in shows. 

Or maybe we just tend to find our friends funnier, who’s to say?

All that said, if Daniel Kitson uses an edition of his famous newsletter purely to recommend catching Eugene Mirman at the Soho Theatre, I’m keen to oblige.

Like many American comics, Mirman has transitioned more into comic acting as he’s gotten older, with a starring role on Bob’s Burgers and plenty of film cameos from back when Hollywood used to make comedies. 

Back in the 2000s though, he was a pretty big deal, for me at least – the only comedian whose work I absorbed via the comedy album format. His record The Absurd Nightclub Comedy of Eugene Mirman was a key text, with a title that perfectly described his style. His material was absurdist, yet could play comfortably in a nightclub (ie a piano bar with boothed seating, not Fabric), and was performed by Eugene Mirman.

His new work in progress, An Evening of Whimsy and Mild Grievances, marks the first time he’s performed in the UK for almost 15 years, and it’s a welcome return. He’s as comfortable as a crackling log fire, with his rich burbling voice and his supremely relaxing anecdotes about funny things that happened to him on holiday. 

He feels a little less surreally-minded to me than I remember him being in his pomp, which may just be a case of my surrealism Overton Window having shifted profoundly over the last 15 years. 

For this WIP, some of the highlights are his gentle, whimsical stunts – a kvetching letter sent to a restaurant which enforced a ridiculous dress code, and a great bit about Venmo-ing random celebrities for random reasons (To: Martha Stewart. Amount: $30. Note: For re-tarmacking my driveway).

Currently the show is short and bitty in a nice way. It’s kind of what you want out of a work in progress show: short-form joke ideas at a random turnover, some of which will be developed into legendary bits, some of which you have the privilege of catching in their only airing.

On that theme, last weekend a few of London’s more independently-minded cinemas were host to some special screenings put on by Matt Farley, the in-house writer, producer and star of an outfit known as Motern Media. 

Based out of New Hampshire, Motern are a very specific, unusual and previously localised phenomenon. The best way to describe them is probably this: remember when you were a kid and you got hold of your first digital camera, and you went out and made a film with your cousins or the kids next door? 

Well Farley and his director Charlie Roxburgh never stopped doing that. They’re now 15 feature films deep and still doing everything themselves. The films are completely independently financed, they compose all their own music and handle every technical aspect, and the cast is consists entirely of family and friends. As Farley puts it: ’How often do you see a film where the cast don’t want to be in it? Our actors don’t like leaving their houses.’

Motern’s films span many genres, but the ones I’ve seen are linked by a sublime and complex sense of humour. Farley and Roxburgh recognise the silliness of the dime-store videos that they grew up with, and then replicate that silliness with a knowing honesty, making hay out of their actors’ limited experience by intentionally giving them baroque and confusing dialogue that they struggle to get out.

What’s remarkable is that this never seems mean-spirited or like it’s poking fun, but just contributes to a joyful idiosyncrasy. No other films feel like this, and it’s partly because this is cinema that’s never been touched by a corporation or even an artist in the traditional sense. This is honest-to-god cinema that’s genuinely been made by a dude living in your neighbourhood.

Don’t Let the Riverbeast Get You! is probably their best known film, in that it’s been seen by upwards of a thousand people worldwide, and it makes a great introduction for anyone looking to get on the Motern wavelength. 

A drily absurd monster movie featuring a monster suit that looks like it was literally made from rubber that’s been found in a river, it’s really a stealth romance story/hangout movie about the town’s earnest inhabitants. That said, it’s still a monster movie, or at least a parody of a monster movie, and is anchored by its influences.

My favourite Motern movie is the wonderful Magic Spot, a deceptively complicated time travel comedy that really reads like nothing so much as a feelgood Twin Peaks – a love letter to small town life and parochial pleasures. 

In one famous (in inverted commas) sequence, the central couple discuss the merits of their small New England town while sitting on a snowy beach eating ‘beach pizza’ – a local rectangular pizza delicacy made with an unconventional cheese.

It’s the love of this kind of thing that animates their filmmaking. Farley says: ‘In a world where there’s a McDonald’s on every corner it’s so great that you can only get beach pizza in a five-mile radius in New England.’ 

The films of Motern Media are now thankfully easier to sample for yourself. If you like the idea of being a part of a very small group of self-selecting comedy cineastes, I’d urge you to seek them out.

Published: 28 Apr 2025