list.co.uk/festival Reviews | FESTIVAL COMEDY

P H O T O

: J O N R O S E P H O T O G R A P H Y

JONATHAN PIE: LIVE A volatile whirlwind of political satire ●●●●● GOOSE: HYDROBERSERKER Physical comedy goes off the rails ●●●●●

A blazing typhoon dressed in suit and tie, Jonathan Pie has a lot to get off his chest. For one thing, he’s stuck in Edinburgh trying to hold together a live Children in Need TV event while his producer is sending him doolally and his domestic affairs are falling apart.

For his political broadcaster and journalist

creation, actor Tom Walker has channelled a fair amount of Alan Partridge into his Pie, albeit one who is rather more on the left of the ideological spectrum. By the end, when he flies into full indignant mode about the state of the nation and his impotent role in it, Pie is undiluted Basil Fawlty. There are plenty jokes abounding in the script

(comparing George Osborne to Keyser Söze is a clear highlight), and after a sluggish start, Pie gets fully into his stride, particularly laying waste to the idea that David Cameron leaves behind any sort of credible legacy. A packed Pleasance Two laps this all up, though it’s occasionally uncertain whether you’re at a political satire show or in the middle of an uncharacteristically volatile Lib Dem rally. For sheer energetic verve, Pie / Walker is worth your vote for an hour. (Brian Donaldson) Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 28 Aug (not 15), 8pm, £9–£12 (£8–£11).

It takes a while to work out what’s going on here, but a thread of narrative does eventually emerge from this wildly physical comedy show. Adam (Adam Drake) has lost the potential love of his life Belle, somehow not managing to get her number correctly despite bumping into her twice. That’s the gist of the show as told by Drake through the use of mime, physical theatre, improv, a projector screen and the full backing band he has on stage with him.

These should be the ingredients for an exciting

and innovative show but it just feels chaotic, largely formless and very underwritten. In addition, Drake affects a nervy demeanour, or at least you presume that’s the case in some places, it’s difficult to tell whether it’s an act. It doesn’t help that his audience stooges aren’t greatly cooperative and you feel for him as he struggles with them.

There are a few good gags in here and the action does pick up pace in the last few minutes but it’s not enough. The band is a nice touch too but their presence here feels excessive considering the lacklustre script they’re backing. And they do look a little bemused themselves, which undermines the whole enterprise somewhat. (Marissa Burgess) Assembly George Square, 623 3030, until 28 Aug, 4.30pm, £10–£12 (£8.50–£9.50).

ANNIE MCGRATH Multi-character affair that doesn’t quite deliver its promise ●●●●●

Someone once told comedian slash actor Annie McGrath that she lacked range in her thespian skills. To prove them wrong, she went off and wrote herself a solo show where she gets to act out seven different parts. Angelica the ghost, seven-year-old Anya, an octogenarian, a newborn baby, a sperm, Annie’s mum and a posh extra called Antigone all take turns in the limelight, but despite McGrath’s tireless efforts, the clunky premise never offers up the chameleonic showcase of talents that’s promised. We learn that McGrath is a binge-drinking,

commitment-shy cynic, suspicious of the Japanese ‘KonMari’ tidy-up craze, troubled by all the babies her friends are having, and fond of a blast of Coldplay, but few laughs are eked from those revelations. Half of comedy duo Twins, an ex-member of sketch

group Leeds Tealights, and daughter of comedian Rory McGrath, when Annie isn’t spending her afternoons conjuring up her mini army of ‘Ans’ out of wigs and bedsheets, she’s spending her August evenings over at Bedlam Theatre in a play called Stack. The turbo drive is clearly there, it’s just the material hasn’t quite got the power. (Claire Sawers) Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 28 Aug (not 17), 4.45pm, £7–£9 (£6.50–£8.50).

FERN BRADY: MALE COMEDIENNE An astounding hour from an act with identity issues and a past worth mining ●●●●●

Like pretty much every stand-up comedian on the planet, Fern Brady has an unquenchable need to receive the acceptance of strangers. But most of all, she really wants other females to like her. Why, Brady wonders, does she attract a certain audience that is predominantly male and bearded? The underlying conclusion hinted at during the opening section of her outstanding second Fringe hour is that they perhaps recognise themselves in her.

After all, she has the hands of a builder, has been called ‘sir’ in a shop and even had her picture published in a tabloid to accompany a story about a man (her boyfriend) who had written a study on the living wage. But what truly hurts is that even after a successful 2015 debut, she has yet to receive an invite to the annual brunch for female Fringe comedians. But if there’s any justice at all, no one will be excluded from experiencing the comedy of Fern Brady.

The pace rarely lets up during Male Comedienne as she takes a swipe at her Catholic upbringing while finding a personal example to understand Theresa May’s enthusiasm for nuclear weapons. Brady’s honesty is brutal as she recalls her days working in a lap club and convincingly argues that stripping is morally on a par with other occupations deemed socially more acceptable.

All of her material here merges forthright opinions with one brilliant line after another, but none of it can prepare you for her finale which is as audacious as it is hilarious. It would be a sin to give the whole thing away, but let’s just say that you won’t be able to hear Sia’s ‘Breathe Me’ again without thinking about a certain genre of online videos. Her dad might struggle getting his head round the title of her show but he can be proud that his girl has produced an astounding work. (Brian Donaldson) The Stand 2, 558 9005, until 28 Aug (not 15), 12.10pm, £9 (£8).

11–18 Aug 2016 THE LIST FESTIVAL 47

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