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list.co.uk/festival Reviews | FESTIVAL COMEDY
WINTER IS COMING A messy non-tribute to Westeros ●●●●● GLENN WOOL Twenty years of grief and jokes ●●●●●
JOHN ROBINS A mixed hour lifted by brilliance ●●●●●
Edinburgh has officially gone Game of Thrones crazy. Jack ‘Joffrey’ Gleeson is in town with his theatre sketch group, Diana Rigg will be discussing bad theatre reviews and George RR Martin is popping up at the Book Festival. So the time seems perfect for some kind of comedy tribute to the made-up world of Westeros. Except, Winter is Coming (as close to the show’s catchphrase as you might get) isn’t it. Indeed, it’s actually barely concerned with the show at all: a neat trick when you’re trying to fill a room the size of the Gilded Balloon’s Nightclub.
The basis for this show is that a group is
workshopping a musical which they hope will get the attention of HBO and lead to bigger and brighter things for the actors. Except there are enormous egos to be wrestled with and Vince has the biggest one of all, giving himself the juiciest roles. The very mention of a character’s name seems enough for some people to go ballistic, and while one front-row guy gets to be Hodor for an hour, the pleasure is purely his. It’s simply all over the place, the whole thing messier than the Red Viper’s head after his encounter with the Mountain’s massive fingers. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Gilded Balloon Teviot, 622 6552, until 25 Aug (not 19), 3pm, £10–£11 (£8–£9).
Jokes have not made Glenn Wool happy. They haven’t made him famous or rich. They have decimated his relationships and stunted his chances of being a father. This is a shame because jokes are one thing he is very good at. Still, we learn about his woes through a ‘greatest hits’ package, Wool trawling through the most offensive of barbs from a 20-year career, strung loosely together through the tale of an offended punter.
Like his stream-of-consciousness narrative, Wool is shambling, brimming with bile and self-loathing. His swaggering stage presence offsets the disdain with which he talks about his life of wrongdoings, and despite all this grief, he’s proud of his jokes. ‘Dr Hook’s House of Solutions’, he repeats again and again, after a gnarly unwanted-baby joke. ‘Bet you never thought you’d hear that as a punchline.’ He keeps just the right side of offensive and,
though he mocks the audience, his candidness ensures that he’s always on their side. A consummate jokesmith, he deconstructs his edgier material with intelligence. Wool should be happier, but if it meant him losing his bite, it’s a good thing he's not. (Kirstyn Smith) ■ Underbelly, Bristo Square, 0844 545 8252, until 25 Aug (not 18), 9.30pm, £13–£14 (£12–£13).
One of John Robins' best routines is an astutely crafted parody of 'millionaire underdog' Stewart Lee. It's a brilliantly structured skit which skilfully punctures Lee's impudence, and it leaves the audience in pieces. It's just a shame that the rest of the hour can't quite maintain that high standard. Robins starts his ‘show about love’ with some
wonderful observations on how new romantic relationships usurp long-standing friendships. He later expands his remit with some sterling material about his girlfriend, her insecurities and his inability to understand them. It's all shot through faux- blokeish eyes but he periodically brings out his inner feminist, using a carefully established ruse to counterbalance some of the more masculine ruminations. It sounds crass but it works. He also explains his disappointment with visiting New Zealand, neatly expounding how even the most beautiful countries have their fair share of social ills. After a superb opening half, Robins' material
slightly falters. But then, with a second wind, he embarks on a splendid rage-filled diatribe about wedding etiquette. A cheery raconteur with a show displaying flashes of brilliance. (Murray Robertson) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 24 Aug, 9.45pm, £9–£12 (£8–£10.50).
LUISA OMIELAN Party girl’s hybrid of winner and loser spills over ●●●●●
Last year, we fell in love with Luisa Omielan, and this year she’s gone off us, because we’re not paying to see her (free) show. Like a restaurant owner slopping down plates grudgingly in front of Groupon customers, Omielan seems to resent her crowd, not to mention her venue, because not enough money’s changing hands. How’s the girl supposed to hustle under these conditions? Especially one who is hell-bent on ‘being famous, bitches’? Maybe she’s just having a bad night, but she declares the space
‘the shittest room on the Fringe’, practically squaring up to audience members who arrive late / need to pee / dare to consider not paying much at the end. ‘Don’t you look me in the eye and give me your shitty coins!’). Diva huffs aside (in fairness, the clue was always there in last year’s show title What Would Beyoncé Do?), party-time Luisa still dominates, and remembers how to work her crowd. Admittedly, they’re a bit stunned after she drops her game-face to bark at a tech guy when her mic plays up, but she seduces them back, lap dancing (literally), twerking and doing grimy, ridiculous shoulder rolls in Spanx and a bra.
Her tough, confessional talk about arrogant alpha men, the shamefulness of slut-shaming (eg Magaluf Girl) or telling US talent agents to do one when they suggest she lose weight, are a reminder of the feisty, savvy, talented one-off below the ’tude. In fairness to Omielan, the sudden hype from last year’s sleeper show (five-star reviews led to Albert Hall dates and sell-out runs in LA, New York and Singapore), could understandably have been a head-wrecker, leaving her a confused hybrid of winner and loser; this show continues last year’s theme of depression, bad luck with men, and loneliness. It’s still good, gobby, heart-on-sleeve comedy; she just needs to keep calm in stand-up’s less baller moments. (Claire Sawers) ■ Laughing Horse @ The Counting House, 667 7533, until 24 Aug (not 17), 10.15pm, free.
14-25 Aug 2014 THE LIST FESTIVAL 51