list.co.uk/festival Reviews | F E S T I VA L C O M E DY
NIGEL NG: CULTURE SHOCKED British mores gently mocked by a smooth operator ●●●●● JAYNE EDWARDS IS TOP BODYBUILDER BRIAN Pleasantly daft character comedy ●●●●●
ADAM ROWE: PINNACLE Controversial and contentious material that doesn’t always land well ●●●●●
If Malaysia has been on the look-out for its very own Jerry Seinfeld, then there’s a good chance Nigel Ng could eventually be the man for that job. His slickly performed and technically astute observations on the differences between East and West are so crafted and riven with a sense of pained disbelief about trivial human nonsense that you might well start to hear ‘what’s the deal with . . . ?’ before each new bit.
There’s nothing mean-spirited about Ng, with his affection clear for the UK he has happily settled in, but his pained incredulity about YO! Sushi, Butlin’s and Wagamama lead to nice routines which play to a pleasingly diverse Fringe audience. He has plenty of jolly chat on tap for interactions with East Asian latecomers and some well-heeled Brits in his front row. But nothing gets in the way of Ng’s prepared material as he plunges headlong back into the jokes which only threaten to get vaguely serious when he discusses the Other category on passport applications. But fear not, there’s a carefully chiselled section just around the corner about the different ways in which rice is packaged across the cultures. What’s the deal with that? (Brian Donaldson) n Pleasance Courtyard, until 25 Aug (not 12), 6.45pm, £7.50–£10 (£6.50–£9).
Taking to the stage wearing an England baseball cap, crop top and badly-drawn tattoos, Welsh bodybuilder Brian is a sight to behold. Brian (winningly performed by comedian Jayne Edwards) proceeds to tell his life story, letting us in on how he lost his wife, put on weight and embarked on a career as a stand-up comedian ‘to pay off a whey protein debt’.
Bodybuilder Brian is not a studied character but Edwards succeeds with levity, charm and a knowing smile. Although the quality of her material is variable, it’s hard to avoid getting caught up in the fun and, as she delivers her best punchlines, it seems there’s a real chance she’ll just lose it and burst out laughing.
Edwards is accompanied by some short video sequences, including an impressively constructed claymation nightmare. And while there isn’t much depth to the character, we discover that Brian is a Brexit supporter extolling the power of ‘sovereignty’, while clearly not understanding what the word actually means. Throughout the whole show Edwards feeds off her appreciative audience, and while it’s roughshod and sketchy, there are some fun lines and daft moments. (Murray Robertson) n Heroes @ Dragonfly, until 25 Aug (not 15), 10pm, £5 in advance or donations at the venue.
The dog whistles can be heard in Adam Rowe’s publicity material, which offers ‘opinionated, no holds barred stand-up’ and heralds a barrage of offensive material presented as a common-sense rebuttal to things like diversity going too far. He tackles a whole host of thorny topics, often in similarly controversial ways. An uncomfortable tirade against overweight people seemingly misunderstands the fat acceptance movement’s efforts to reshape culturally constructed beauty standards. His discussion of transgender individuals claims acceptance while undermining it. Rowe’s material veers between the offensive and the genuinely inquisitive. His material on ingrained racism and homophobia learned in childhood fares well, as does his frustration with his girlfriend and descriptions of his sexual hangover habits. These sections engage with difficult matters rather than the contentious jabs he offers elsewhere.
But Rowe is good at what he does. He is clearly clever and tapped in to hot-button issues. With material that’s well-written, well-paced and well- delivered, there’s definitely an audience for the provocative views he's peddling. (Suzanne Black) n Just the Tonic at The Caves, until 25 Aug (not 12), 7.30pm, £5 in advance or donations at the venue.
JENA FRIEDMAN: MISCARRIAGE OF JUSTICE A wry paean for positivity ●●●●●
On the weekend of yet more mass shootings in the US, Jena Friedman is still trying to find hope in small places. If we all get out there and vote in every single election, then some good might come of it eventually, she reckons. Then again, more people voted against rather than for Trump in 2016 and he still managed to kick open the door of the Oval Office to lay a supremacist siege upon his nation. Still, the power engendered by the #MeToo movement might one day
bring about positive change. On the other hand, Friedman ponders, given that men are still not quite programmed to channel their own emotions or view women as anything close to equal, then sexual assault and dehumanisation are likely to remain rampant. At least until the robots take over.
Friedman, herself, readily admits to being drawn into certain
patriarchal tropes. Her own obsession with true-crime podcasts and documentaries bolsters the societal constructs that overwhelmingly revel in the murder of women. Brexit is a disaster, while Trump and his Russian cronies might fiddle the polls for him to be re-elected in 2020 and hope will once again take a back-seat as chaos and hatred drives us over a cliff.
While she makes us simultaneously laugh and cringe, Friedman gives us a brief glimpse into her own life with routines about a partner and their imaginary future child. But, as you’d imagine, there’s nothing other than bleakness poking its head round that corner. While there’s a generous splash of taste-nudging material about death, destruction, and disaster, the shocks do wear off a little too quickly, and certainly swifter than Friedman herself might be expecting. A show featuring blunted audience reactions to terror seems appropriate in a world where outraged calls for gun control will be off the front pages by tomorrow. (Brian Donaldson) n Assembly George Square Studios, until 25 Aug (not 12), 9.20pm, £12–£13 (£11–£12).
7–14 Aug 2019 THE LIST FESTIVAL 57