Review by Steve Bennett

Turns out Jason Alexander was an inspired choice to host a Montreal gala. Sure, he was picked because his Seinfeld status guaranteed this vast theatre sold out, but as well as the acting talent needed to reduce the cringe factor of the set-piece sketches, he also brought a genial mix of control, jocularity and surprising filth to his off-the-cuff links between the acts.

And good job, too, as with a couple of exceptions, this second show of the night did not offer a vintage line-up.

Alexander swooped, literally, into centre stage, for his introduction: flying by wires in the guise of ethnic super-hero Jewperman in which no stereotype was left unplundered for a sporadically amusing monologue, kvetching about all his problems to an uncaring world. Though the biggest laughs seemed to come from the prop used to flesh out those famous underpants.

First up, slick Canada-born Pete Zedlacher hit some easy laughs with local references, before finding more substantial ground in an animated segment about the arcane rules of Catholic Masses, although his punchy delivery did more work that his straightforward material. He has, though, the best routine about eggnog you’ve ever heard – a modest claim, perhaps, but he’s ridiculously thorough in his discussion of the topic, squeezing out more jokes than you’d think possible, and funnier than you’d expect.

Kristeen Von Hagen served up fairly bland material, following a sideswipe at Shania Twain’s lyrics by bemoaning celebrity fragrances and pondering what hers would be like – prompting maybe half a dozen near-identical punchlines, none any more funny than the last, but whispered for supposed comic effect. Follow that up with some straightforward relationship comedy and we’re done here. There’s nothing to see.

Def Comedy Jam alumni Mike Britt told us anything sounds sexy in the French accent, that George Bush is stupid and then shared his observations on airline travel. But even though these topics are so hack, that even listing them as hack topics is hack, he went down inexplicably well. That’s perhaps down to his by-the-numbers manipulation of the audience, from the rhythms of his gags to his shameless bids for applause breaks.

Balloon Ballet was one of the increasingly rare physical acts in Just For Laughs’ line-ups; and rather entertaining it was too, as two leotarded acrobats leapt athletically around, each with a giant silver ball as a prop/portable crash mat.

Blue-collar comic Willie Barcena has an agreeable enough line in grumpy intolerance of the ‘fat people – stop eating cakes’ variety, but it’s nothing you won’t have heard elsewhere. But as well as mocking the world’s self-pitying whiners, he has a chunk about a limbless young wrestler, that’s interesting even ou don’t quite believe him (but it’s true, and the lad’s name is Kyle Manyard).

Alexander then returned for a spoof Q&A, in which he refuses to answer any questions on Seinfeld, claiming that was only a minor part of his rich and varied career. Bizarrely, this is hijacked by a real member of the audience, who puts himself among the planted questioners to ask Alexander about a shit-sniffing scene he filmed in the detective show Monk. ‘What surprised me is how long security let that go on for,’ said a bemused Alexander when his dedicated fan – a man called Rich who works for phone company Verizon – finally retook his seat.

Lachlan Patterson’s blurb describes him as ‘one of the hottest young comedians in the country’. In which case, Canada should be worried. His opening gag involves a long set-up paid off with a weak pull-back-and-reveal punchline that elicits only mild titters. Most the rest of his set explores the idea ‘what if women made video games’, which is the cue for lots of bog-standard relationship comedy shtick, painfully underlined him asking ‘right?’ after every lame observation, as he desperately seeks affirmation. He gets interesting towards the end of his set, with a silly game involving his own reflection on the TV screen, but it’s not enough to redeem him.

American comic Dov Davidoff is leagues ahead. His discombobulated demeanor, bouncing around the stage and ranting like a tramp yelling a pigeons, makes for a distinctive delivery. There’s a touch of the disturbed whine of Bobcat Goldthwaite to him, but his animated, intolerant stance is otherwise his own – and very appealing.

Tim Minchin, winner of the last ever Perrier best newcomer award, provided what should have been a showstopping finale, grabbing the audience’s attention with his mad composer look, wowing them with his virtuoso piano playing and impressive voice, and making them chuckle with the intelligently rude lyrics to Inflatable You, his Victoria Wood-style love song to a blow-up doll. And his We Are The World piss-take, Canvas Bag, brought proceedings to what ought to have been a rousing climax.

This is what musical comedy should be about, not just changing the words to some old standard to incorporate some half-arsed jokes that wouldn’t stand on their own. And, as if to prove the point, Alexander came back out to sing to a supposedly terminally ill man a reworked version of I Did It My Way, retitled He’s Got Till Friday, that showed how unadventurous this genre could be.

We should have ended on Minchin. This weak closing number was like wolfing down a Big Mac after a Michelin-starred feast.

Review date: 1 Jan 2006
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett