Matt Devereaux

Note: This review is from 2005

Review by Steve Bennett

Matt Devereaux has clearly come to the Fringe well ahead of his time. Judging by his aristocratic accent, he has the cash to blow on staging a show to blow on an exercise that might help him grow as a comic.

It is more for him than his audience, who have to suffer a 40 minutes of poor material as he struggles to find his comedy feet.

The sparse few who do show up endure a lot of aimless chit-chat. For example, after explaining that his surname is French, he embarks on an unfocussed discussion of the language with a fellow speaker in the room, showing off his mastery of French tongue-twisters, though I’m not quite sure why.

He has got quite a range of accents, all employed to no good effect. He does a Loyd Grossman, for instance, just to say he can be a bit annoying. Or he adopts a harsh Ulster tone to imagine Margaret Thatcher in a porn film. What is this, I Love 1989? Not just in references, but in tired, aching style.

Add to the mix of styles he can’t quite settle on a crushingly dull comedy song, and some stand-up that doesn’t come from the heart… more like the colon.

There are some glimmers of hope for Devereaux, with a small smattering of lines suggesting sly wordplay might be his forte.

With a bit of experience and hard work, he could have a solid ten minutes in time for next year’s festival. Which is a bit tough when he’s doing 40 at this one.

Review date: 1 Aug 2005
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett

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