Review by Steve Bennett

Scott Capurro has been positively goading people to walk out of his shows – and, true enough, they’ve been leaving in their droves. It begs the question why; he’s being doing this bitter, brutally odious humour from the viewpoint of a narcissistic, predatory gay man since being nominated as the Perrier newcomer in 1994. Anyone taking even the most cursory glance at what show they’re buying tickets for should be all-too aware of what atrocities to expect.

But when every other comic seems to be dumping a rape gag into their set as a shortcut to acquiring some phoney measure of ‘offensive’ cool, maybe the word’s losing its meaning. Capurro, however, is on a level of viciously uninhibited nastiness all of his own.

He’s a man for whom bad taste means wearing white socks, not lines like: ‘Why shouldn’t I rape my black nigger?’ which he drops casually into the monologue. The I-Spy book of kneejerk shock subjects are certainly covered: Madelaine McCann, Aids, Mohammed, Jill Dando, the Holocaust, Josef Fritzl and, erm, Alan Carr. You’ll hear jokes about al of them this festival, but rarely, if ever as uncompromisingly extreme as the acidic Capurro pushes them. It is impossible to overstate the enormity of his material.

It’s relentless, too. Capurro speaks 19 to the dozen, presenting one viciously evil image after another. There is no escape from the intensity of its unpleasantness; it can feels like the stand-up equivalent of the Clockwork Orange aversion therapy film.

Yet accept the ferocious, corrosive material in the provocative spirit it’s intended, and it is brilliantly, shockingly funny. So far beyond the pale that the only reaction to laugh, partly out of discomfort, partly out of the sheer audacity of it all.

This is grade-A, pure hardcore comedy, mind, not for the casual dabbler. But if you’ve gone through the gateway comics who cut their offence cut with whimsy and tomfoolery, and feel you’re ready for something much, much stronger, Capurro is your man. Much of the show concerns itself with graphic descriptions of gay sex, of course, but by the end of the hour pretty much every sacred cow you can think of has been turned into beefburgers.

He makes this material as palatable as it’s ever going to be by his exaggerated persona. There’s a subtle playfulness behind it all, and he’s just such a ridiculously offensive caricature of empty promiscuity, self-centred bitchiness and unadulterated unpleasantness, you shouldn’t really be taking any of it that seriously.

This particular show feels like the triumphant culmination of the evil he’s been peddling for the past 14-odd years, combined with an honest glimpse into the realities of his life. It can’t be stressed enough that this show isn’t for everyone, but if you suspect you’ll like it, you’ll probably love it.

Reviewed by: Steve Bennett

Review date: 1 Jan 2008
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett