"Zombieland" might seem like a strange choice for a first ever zombie movie since, from the start and possibly even from the title, the comedy predominantly comes from knowing references to generic zombie movies (in what I would assume, had I seen it, is a "Shaun of the Dead" kind of way).
But that's the power of casting.
Working on the basis that a film involving Jesse Eisenberg, Emma Stone, Abigail Breslin (the girl in "Little Miss Sunshine") and, rather surprisingly, Woody Harrelson must have something going for it, I also gave it a go.
The good news, for those of us not really into the horror half of this unusual genre-combination, is that once you get past the (apparently deliberately cartoonish) gore of the opening sequence, there's not much to trouble those who have come for the comedy.
In fact the film quickly turns into a road movie in which the last few non-zombies in the USA forge an unreliable and unlikely alliance within the confines of a series of very big, and very well armed, cars. The funny thing about Zombieland is that, for much of the film, the zombies themselves become little more than threatening blips on the expansive scenery which surrounds the characters' in-car struggles for control and survival.
However, for me, the funniest part of the film was actually the series of rules which Eisenberg's nervy Columbus character has developed for surviving a world overrun by zombies; rules which, while they are clearly the result of watching too many zombie movies and playing too much World of Warcraft, are funny even if you don't get all the references. My personal favourite was Rule #1 "Cardio"- which simply involved making sure you are fit enough to outrun the zombies (who were generally hampered by their inevitably trailing leg) although the self-explanatory "Seat Belts" rule came a close second.
This film might not have converted me to zombie movies but at least I'd know what to do if I met one.
Saturday, 31 December 2011
Thursday, 15 December 2011
Bridesmaids: Only one funny step from reality
If you haven't seen "Bridesmaids" yet, I'm guessing it's because (with all that pink on the cover) it looks like an icky rom-com for-and-about girls who want to get married. So if you're not one of those, you've probably given it a swerve.
The line up of mis-matched girls wearing identical dresses on the cover suggests this is going to be about a giggly gang of cartoon caricatures but if you literally look a little closer you'll see there's a hint of real attitude in their faces and poses. That's a hint of what's to come.
"Bridesmaids" is a comedy which is actually only a small step away from being a drama. The intense competition between the bridesmaids for the coveted 'best friend of the bride' title is inelegant and desperate but ultimately rooted in an embarrassingly recognisable reality - and that's what makes it so good.
This isn't a battle between beautiful brides-in-waiting for the chance to be the next to shine - this is a dirty and dogged fight between females over friendship, and it's brilliantly done. The cast is universally strong and seems to be made up of natural and actual female comedians of the highest calibre (check out the "Line-O-Rama" bonus material on the DVD if you don't believe me). Kristen Wiig, who co-wrote the script, is a revelation and her so-real-it's-funny performance sets the tone for the whole film.
A surprise cameo role for Little Britain's Matt Lucas and an even more surprising leading man role for the IT Crowd's Chris O'Dowd adds to the sense that this is a comedy made by comedians who know comedy (watch out for the inspired casting of Matt Lucas' screen sister who steals every scene she's in). It might be hard to imagine a big Hollywood producer spontaneously choosing Chris O'Dowd as the leading man for this film but it's now slightly less hard to imagine them choosing him for their next one.
Arguably, real comedians don't have a great track record when it comes to making film comedy but "Bridesmaids" bucks that trend by cleverly treading the fine line between real life and big laughs. This film might only make you laugh out loud a couple of times, but it'll have you smiling from the (very smutty) start.
The line up of mis-matched girls wearing identical dresses on the cover suggests this is going to be about a giggly gang of cartoon caricatures but if you literally look a little closer you'll see there's a hint of real attitude in their faces and poses. That's a hint of what's to come.
"Bridesmaids" is a comedy which is actually only a small step away from being a drama. The intense competition between the bridesmaids for the coveted 'best friend of the bride' title is inelegant and desperate but ultimately rooted in an embarrassingly recognisable reality - and that's what makes it so good.
This isn't a battle between beautiful brides-in-waiting for the chance to be the next to shine - this is a dirty and dogged fight between females over friendship, and it's brilliantly done. The cast is universally strong and seems to be made up of natural and actual female comedians of the highest calibre (check out the "Line-O-Rama" bonus material on the DVD if you don't believe me). Kristen Wiig, who co-wrote the script, is a revelation and her so-real-it's-funny performance sets the tone for the whole film.
A surprise cameo role for Little Britain's Matt Lucas and an even more surprising leading man role for the IT Crowd's Chris O'Dowd adds to the sense that this is a comedy made by comedians who know comedy (watch out for the inspired casting of Matt Lucas' screen sister who steals every scene she's in). It might be hard to imagine a big Hollywood producer spontaneously choosing Chris O'Dowd as the leading man for this film but it's now slightly less hard to imagine them choosing him for their next one.
Arguably, real comedians don't have a great track record when it comes to making film comedy but "Bridesmaids" bucks that trend by cleverly treading the fine line between real life and big laughs. This film might only make you laugh out loud a couple of times, but it'll have you smiling from the (very smutty) start.
Monday, 12 December 2011
Seven small words
"This isn't going very well, is it?"
Seven small words which can bring forth the end of a comedy set faster than any others.
However badly the set was going before those words were said, saying them will inevitably make it worse.
Because before those words were said the audience may well have been unconvinced about the set but afterwards the audience knows the comedian isn't convinced either. And since comedy is about confidence the revelation that the comedian isn't confident in the show removes any confidence the audience might have in it. In other words, it kills the set dead.
Of course, I can see how a comedian might be tempted to say it.
If the laughs are a little hollow and a little smattered around the room at the start, it must be tempting to acknowledge it, if only as a defense mechanism. The problem is that acknowledging it assumes that the lack of laughs is related to the funniness of the set when, in fact, there may be loads of other reasons for a slow start. The audience might still be digesting the previous set (if there was one) and adjusting to a new style, they may be assuming the initial jokes are building to a bigger pay-off and be pacing themselves (it happens), or they may just be waiting for some material which strikes a particular cord with them. A slow start can precede a staggeringly brilliant gig but a slow start followed by those seven small words will probably precede a sharp exit.
In a weird sort of way, by adding the 'is it?" comedians are also acknowledging the audience's role in the success, or failure, of the show. In a nod to the audience's capacity to create a good atmosphere for comedy (see You can make comedy funnier) the "is it?" suggests that if we can agree the show's not going well, we can do something about it. It's an appeal to the audience for help.
The trouble is that it inevitably tends to be said in the early part of the gig before the audience has had a chance to invest in the comic or the set. And since those words simultaneously suggest that the set's not going to get any better, the audience is going to feel even less inclined to help out. That's why, after those seven small words, the end is often nigh.
Because while I've heard comedians say "This isn't going very well, is it?" during a gig, I've never heard anyone shout back "Yes it is!"
Seven small words which can bring forth the end of a comedy set faster than any others.
However badly the set was going before those words were said, saying them will inevitably make it worse.
Because before those words were said the audience may well have been unconvinced about the set but afterwards the audience knows the comedian isn't convinced either. And since comedy is about confidence the revelation that the comedian isn't confident in the show removes any confidence the audience might have in it. In other words, it kills the set dead.
Of course, I can see how a comedian might be tempted to say it.
If the laughs are a little hollow and a little smattered around the room at the start, it must be tempting to acknowledge it, if only as a defense mechanism. The problem is that acknowledging it assumes that the lack of laughs is related to the funniness of the set when, in fact, there may be loads of other reasons for a slow start. The audience might still be digesting the previous set (if there was one) and adjusting to a new style, they may be assuming the initial jokes are building to a bigger pay-off and be pacing themselves (it happens), or they may just be waiting for some material which strikes a particular cord with them. A slow start can precede a staggeringly brilliant gig but a slow start followed by those seven small words will probably precede a sharp exit.
In a weird sort of way, by adding the 'is it?" comedians are also acknowledging the audience's role in the success, or failure, of the show. In a nod to the audience's capacity to create a good atmosphere for comedy (see You can make comedy funnier) the "is it?" suggests that if we can agree the show's not going well, we can do something about it. It's an appeal to the audience for help.
The trouble is that it inevitably tends to be said in the early part of the gig before the audience has had a chance to invest in the comic or the set. And since those words simultaneously suggest that the set's not going to get any better, the audience is going to feel even less inclined to help out. That's why, after those seven small words, the end is often nigh.
Because while I've heard comedians say "This isn't going very well, is it?" during a gig, I've never heard anyone shout back "Yes it is!"
Thursday, 8 December 2011
The bravest comedy show I've ever seen
I think of myself as a (constructively) critical consumer of comedy but before I go any further with this blog I would like to say something. At a fundamental level, I am in awe of anyone who does stand-up comedy.
I think it is the combination of bravery and vulnerabilty which comedians exude which makes me admire anyone who is prepared to call themselves one.
And the bravest comedy show I have ever seen was in Edinburgh a few years ago. It was a classic fringe festival gig - the kind of gig which established comedians joke about and new comedians have to actually do. You know, the show where there are only three people in the audience (true) and one of them is the son of the comedian's-mum's-best-friend (also true).
The show was free. There were two comedians on the bill. Only one turned up and two out of the three people in the audience had come to see the other one (Benny Boot). The venue was a run-down RAF Club a reasonable walk away from the festival epicentre and the best thing about it was the eighties-priced drinks.
The other comedian (let's call him Luke) arrived to discover the size of his audience. He hesitated and asked if we wanted to hear his part of the show. We said we did, but we didn't really expect him to do it.
I don't know if it was our enthusiasm or the fact that he was performing five minutes in a 'new faces' type show later in the festival but he did it. He set his own lights, adjusted his own mike and performed his part of the show.
We gave him plenty of encouraging laughs back in return (see previous post on giving good audience) but it was still the bravest comedy show I've ever seen. Several years later, an internet search suggests that his actual name was Liam Speirs. I may have forgotten his name but I will never forget that show.
I think it is the combination of bravery and vulnerabilty which comedians exude which makes me admire anyone who is prepared to call themselves one.
And the bravest comedy show I have ever seen was in Edinburgh a few years ago. It was a classic fringe festival gig - the kind of gig which established comedians joke about and new comedians have to actually do. You know, the show where there are only three people in the audience (true) and one of them is the son of the comedian's-mum's-best-friend (also true).
The show was free. There were two comedians on the bill. Only one turned up and two out of the three people in the audience had come to see the other one (Benny Boot). The venue was a run-down RAF Club a reasonable walk away from the festival epicentre and the best thing about it was the eighties-priced drinks.
The other comedian (let's call him Luke) arrived to discover the size of his audience. He hesitated and asked if we wanted to hear his part of the show. We said we did, but we didn't really expect him to do it.
I don't know if it was our enthusiasm or the fact that he was performing five minutes in a 'new faces' type show later in the festival but he did it. He set his own lights, adjusted his own mike and performed his part of the show.
We gave him plenty of encouraging laughs back in return (see previous post on giving good audience) but it was still the bravest comedy show I've ever seen. Several years later, an internet search suggests that his actual name was Liam Speirs. I may have forgotten his name but I will never forget that show.
Tuesday, 29 November 2011
Comedy: Not suitable for recycling
You can now rent stand-up comedy DVDs in my local video shop. This is a serious surprise.
I can see how people might prefer a night in with 90 minutes of stand-up comedy instead of some of the "comedy" films on the shelves (one day, if you're unlucky, I might be able to bring myself to write about "Just Go With It") but, given how much cheaper it is, I can't really see much in it for the comedian.
Of course, renting a John Bishop DVD for a fraction of the cost of buying it (and, I'm guessing, an even smaller fraction of the cost of seeing him live) might be cheaper but it is obviously not the same experience as seeing the show. The real problem for comics is that, while the experience might not be the same, the jokes probably are.
I don't think it's a coincidence that comedy DVDs often seem to be released at the culmination of a tour. By the time the material has been round the country a) it should be honed and b) everyone who was going to see it live, has done. So the DVD is a way to extend a comedy show's comparatively short shelf life.
Because comedy is arguably one of the least recyclable and most energy-consuming forms of performance art. Great comedy shows insatiably eat up excellent material. The jokes come thick and fast. When things are going extremely well, some are literally thrown away.
And unlike aging rock bands endlessly re-playing the same songs, comedians can't go around re-playing their amazing first routine. Even if their comedy isn't particularly topical, people expect a new tour to mean a new show, which means new jokes.
So committing a comedy show to DVD is like pressing 'save' on the great comedy computer. The sad thing is you can only save that performance that night in that venue (probably the biggest one of the entire tour) which means that something of the show is inevitably lost. The material might be saved but the show is definitely over.
And I think that sense of being 'over' suffuses the DVD itself. I rarely re-watch my Dylan Moran and Tim Minchin DVDs for the same reason that I have only ever seen a second show on the same tour once (also Tiim Minchin but I put that down to the songs). They might still make you laugh but jokes are never as funny the second time round or, in my experience, on the DVD.
I can see how people might prefer a night in with 90 minutes of stand-up comedy instead of some of the "comedy" films on the shelves (one day, if you're unlucky, I might be able to bring myself to write about "Just Go With It") but, given how much cheaper it is, I can't really see much in it for the comedian.
Of course, renting a John Bishop DVD for a fraction of the cost of buying it (and, I'm guessing, an even smaller fraction of the cost of seeing him live) might be cheaper but it is obviously not the same experience as seeing the show. The real problem for comics is that, while the experience might not be the same, the jokes probably are.
I don't think it's a coincidence that comedy DVDs often seem to be released at the culmination of a tour. By the time the material has been round the country a) it should be honed and b) everyone who was going to see it live, has done. So the DVD is a way to extend a comedy show's comparatively short shelf life.
Because comedy is arguably one of the least recyclable and most energy-consuming forms of performance art. Great comedy shows insatiably eat up excellent material. The jokes come thick and fast. When things are going extremely well, some are literally thrown away.
And unlike aging rock bands endlessly re-playing the same songs, comedians can't go around re-playing their amazing first routine. Even if their comedy isn't particularly topical, people expect a new tour to mean a new show, which means new jokes.
So committing a comedy show to DVD is like pressing 'save' on the great comedy computer. The sad thing is you can only save that performance that night in that venue (probably the biggest one of the entire tour) which means that something of the show is inevitably lost. The material might be saved but the show is definitely over.
And I think that sense of being 'over' suffuses the DVD itself. I rarely re-watch my Dylan Moran and Tim Minchin DVDs for the same reason that I have only ever seen a second show on the same tour once (also Tiim Minchin but I put that down to the songs). They might still make you laugh but jokes are never as funny the second time round or, in my experience, on the DVD.
Monday, 21 November 2011
You can make comedy funnier
When a comedy gig has gone well, I've often heard people (and the comedians themselves) say "the audience were great".
And I don't think that means the heckles were hilarious or the 'getting-to-know-you' bits at the beginning of the show revealed that some particularly funny people were sitting on the front row (see earlier post on impro...). I think it means the audience did a great job of working with the comedian to create a great atmosphere.
An atmosphere which made the comedian better and the jokes funnier.
The fact is that, however funny and experienced a comedian is, they can't create that atmosphere on their own. The audience has to be willing to contribute. And I would argue that the more willing the audience is to do that, the funnier the show ultimately becomes. So I always go ready to laugh.
Because one thing I've learned from going to comedy gigs is that the more I laugh, the funnier the comedian gets - whoever they are. And it's not just that I find them funnier because I'm in the mood for laughing, I think they really are funnier because comedy relies on confidence. And if the comic, and the audience, are both convinced the show is going well, the show will go well.
A comedian who is enjoying a gig is completely different to a comedian who keeps checking their watch. In a good gig, comedians tend to take more time and develop the delivery. This is when (despite my previous post) the odd improvised comment really works - when it's an obviously spontaneous riff on a storming routine.
Meanwhile if enough people in the audience are in the mood for laughing, then the audience seems to collectively decide they are in for a great night - and that means they probably are.
So if you want to make every comedy gig you go to even funnier - turn up ready to laugh. Laugh at the first funny thing the comedian says and clap the funniest joke you hear in the first five minutes. I bet you the next ninety-five minutes will be better for it.
And I don't think that means the heckles were hilarious or the 'getting-to-know-you' bits at the beginning of the show revealed that some particularly funny people were sitting on the front row (see earlier post on impro...). I think it means the audience did a great job of working with the comedian to create a great atmosphere.
An atmosphere which made the comedian better and the jokes funnier.
The fact is that, however funny and experienced a comedian is, they can't create that atmosphere on their own. The audience has to be willing to contribute. And I would argue that the more willing the audience is to do that, the funnier the show ultimately becomes. So I always go ready to laugh.
Because one thing I've learned from going to comedy gigs is that the more I laugh, the funnier the comedian gets - whoever they are. And it's not just that I find them funnier because I'm in the mood for laughing, I think they really are funnier because comedy relies on confidence. And if the comic, and the audience, are both convinced the show is going well, the show will go well.
A comedian who is enjoying a gig is completely different to a comedian who keeps checking their watch. In a good gig, comedians tend to take more time and develop the delivery. This is when (despite my previous post) the odd improvised comment really works - when it's an obviously spontaneous riff on a storming routine.
Meanwhile if enough people in the audience are in the mood for laughing, then the audience seems to collectively decide they are in for a great night - and that means they probably are.
So if you want to make every comedy gig you go to even funnier - turn up ready to laugh. Laugh at the first funny thing the comedian says and clap the funniest joke you hear in the first five minutes. I bet you the next ninety-five minutes will be better for it.
Monday, 14 November 2011
A good comedy with a bad title
Have you ever noticed how hard it is to spot a really good comedy film? It's easy to spot funny bits in films but much harder to judge when a whole film is funny enough to warrant being called a good comedy.
I think it's because we're blinded by the marketing. So often films are sold to us as comedies when all they really contain is the ten funny jokes we just saw in the trailer. The set up might be funny but, as sitcom writers know, you need to keep 'em coming to keep 'em laughing through ninety minutes.
In fact, it's not really until you've sat through a whole film and realised it has consistently kept you entertained, amused and possibly even laughing that you realise you've just watched a good comedy.
But I am ready to put my hand up to say that "Bad Teacher" is a good comedy film.
If you can get past the terrible title and the fact that the front cover features Justin Timberlake in very unconvincing librarian-glasses and actually take the DVD to the rental counter, you're could be in for some fun.
Cameron Diaz plays both to, and against, type as a gorgeous female teacher who cares much more about money than she does about kids - a fact which is recognised (and appreciated) by Jason Segel's gym teacher while Justin Timberlake's dull-but-minted supply teacher cannot see through her (despite the see-through glasses).
It's edgier than you'd think, it's cruder than you'd think and it's far funnier than you'd think too.
I think that's because Cameron Diaz's character, and subsequently the story, constantly surprises. Only the surprise is how far she, and the story, are prepared to go.
The fact that this film has drugs, stealing and cheating but the most shocking thing about this bad teacher is she spends days on end making her bored students watch movies because she can't be bothered to teach them - is just one of the surprises. I won't spoil any of the others.
I think it's because we're blinded by the marketing. So often films are sold to us as comedies when all they really contain is the ten funny jokes we just saw in the trailer. The set up might be funny but, as sitcom writers know, you need to keep 'em coming to keep 'em laughing through ninety minutes.
In fact, it's not really until you've sat through a whole film and realised it has consistently kept you entertained, amused and possibly even laughing that you realise you've just watched a good comedy.
But I am ready to put my hand up to say that "Bad Teacher" is a good comedy film.
If you can get past the terrible title and the fact that the front cover features Justin Timberlake in very unconvincing librarian-glasses and actually take the DVD to the rental counter, you're could be in for some fun.
Cameron Diaz plays both to, and against, type as a gorgeous female teacher who cares much more about money than she does about kids - a fact which is recognised (and appreciated) by Jason Segel's gym teacher while Justin Timberlake's dull-but-minted supply teacher cannot see through her (despite the see-through glasses).
It's edgier than you'd think, it's cruder than you'd think and it's far funnier than you'd think too.
I think that's because Cameron Diaz's character, and subsequently the story, constantly surprises. Only the surprise is how far she, and the story, are prepared to go.
The fact that this film has drugs, stealing and cheating but the most shocking thing about this bad teacher is she spends days on end making her bored students watch movies because she can't be bothered to teach them - is just one of the surprises. I won't spoil any of the others.
Monday, 7 November 2011
The furthest point on the comedy triangle: Melbourne
Edinburgh, Montreal and Melbourne are arguably the three best comedy festivals in the world.
It's not surprising that Edinburgh is the best-known in the UK, because it's in the UK. Plus, winning the (former) Perrier award is the benchmark for UK comics.
And Montreal has snuck into the UK's consciousness too, thanks to the 'Just for Laughs' TV programmes which showcase the best of the international talent there.
But Melbourne?
In Melbourne, the International Comedy Festival is massive. In Australia, it's a pretty big deal. In the international comedy world, doing well in Melbourne is a mark of making it. But in the UK, my straw-poll-of-people-I-know suggests it's still almost completely unknown.
And I think I know why.
Before I went to Australia in 2002 I had only ever come across two Australian comics. I had seen Dame Edna on TV and I had heard Adam Hills on the radio. So I didn't have a clue what to expect from the 2003 Melbourne International Comedy Festival.
In fact what I found was an absolutely thriving festival which, unlike Edinburgh, was solely dedicated to comedy. Okay, the year I was there the 'Barry' (Melbourne's equivalent of the 'Perrier') was won by Mike Wilmot (a Canadian) but the Best Newcomers were at least antipodean; they were Flight of the Conchords.
Melbourne was where I first came across young-gun Glenn Wool and baby-faced Andrew Maxwell. It was where I first heard about future-Conchords-collaborator Arj Barker and hottest-Brit-ticket-in-town Ross Noble. Melbourne was also where I discovered that two Australians had actually once won the Perrier when it was still the Perrier (Lano and Woodley in 1994).
And since coming back to the UK in 2003, I seem to have been pursued by Australian comics. Tim Minchin and Adam Hills are both successfully established in the UK now.
And that's really why I think the Melbourne Comedy Festival still isn't very well known over here; because some of the best Australian comics have settled in UK. And if we want to see the rest, well, we can go to Edinburgh.
It's not surprising that Edinburgh is the best-known in the UK, because it's in the UK. Plus, winning the (former) Perrier award is the benchmark for UK comics.
And Montreal has snuck into the UK's consciousness too, thanks to the 'Just for Laughs' TV programmes which showcase the best of the international talent there.
But Melbourne?
In Melbourne, the International Comedy Festival is massive. In Australia, it's a pretty big deal. In the international comedy world, doing well in Melbourne is a mark of making it. But in the UK, my straw-poll-of-people-I-know suggests it's still almost completely unknown.
And I think I know why.
Before I went to Australia in 2002 I had only ever come across two Australian comics. I had seen Dame Edna on TV and I had heard Adam Hills on the radio. So I didn't have a clue what to expect from the 2003 Melbourne International Comedy Festival.
In fact what I found was an absolutely thriving festival which, unlike Edinburgh, was solely dedicated to comedy. Okay, the year I was there the 'Barry' (Melbourne's equivalent of the 'Perrier') was won by Mike Wilmot (a Canadian) but the Best Newcomers were at least antipodean; they were Flight of the Conchords.
Melbourne was where I first came across young-gun Glenn Wool and baby-faced Andrew Maxwell. It was where I first heard about future-Conchords-collaborator Arj Barker and hottest-Brit-ticket-in-town Ross Noble. Melbourne was also where I discovered that two Australians had actually once won the Perrier when it was still the Perrier (Lano and Woodley in 1994).
And since coming back to the UK in 2003, I seem to have been pursued by Australian comics. Tim Minchin and Adam Hills are both successfully established in the UK now.
And that's really why I think the Melbourne Comedy Festival still isn't very well known over here; because some of the best Australian comics have settled in UK. And if we want to see the rest, well, we can go to Edinburgh.
Monday, 24 October 2011
"Not Going Out" Series 1-3: Just add Rom to the Com
I have recently caught up with the first three series' of Lee Mack's sitcom "Not Going Out" on DVD and it has got me thinking about how hard sitcom is to get right.
The really nice premise of "Not Going Out" is all in the title. Lee Mack is the layabout who shares a flat with a really attractive girl he is 'not going out' with. In the first series, the girl is his best friend Tim's ex-girlfriend. In series' two and three, it's Tim's sister.
In true sitcom style, the jokes come in quick succession and enough of them are laugh-out-loud funny enough to have me reaching for the fourth series. The production is slick too, with a docklands flat set which oozes New York cool even if the overhead shots of the surrounding city feature Canary Wharf.
So it's a good sitcom but there are a couple of things which, for me, stop it being great.
One of those things is probably a hangover from Lee Mack's life as a stand-up - there are a lot of lines that are clever but rather unnaturally set-up. The dialogue is often quite obviously worked round to deliver a gag, rather than a gag re-worked to develop it into dialogue. As a result, people say some pretty unnatural things and then wait rather awkwardly for the laugh to subside before carrying on with the story.
The other thing is the romantic storyline. Now I love a good romance and the careful plotting of a romantic moment in each episode did keep me coming back for more. Unfortunately the curiously chaste kiss which finally came at the climax of series three was a poor reward for my devotion. "Friends" really understood how much a believable romance could add to a sitcom but Lee and Lucy are no Ross and Rachel.
On paper, "Not Going Out" must read like it has everything it needs to succeed - the situation, the characters and the jokes - but it needs a spark of something extra too. I just hope to see that spark in the next series...
The really nice premise of "Not Going Out" is all in the title. Lee Mack is the layabout who shares a flat with a really attractive girl he is 'not going out' with. In the first series, the girl is his best friend Tim's ex-girlfriend. In series' two and three, it's Tim's sister.
In true sitcom style, the jokes come in quick succession and enough of them are laugh-out-loud funny enough to have me reaching for the fourth series. The production is slick too, with a docklands flat set which oozes New York cool even if the overhead shots of the surrounding city feature Canary Wharf.
So it's a good sitcom but there are a couple of things which, for me, stop it being great.
One of those things is probably a hangover from Lee Mack's life as a stand-up - there are a lot of lines that are clever but rather unnaturally set-up. The dialogue is often quite obviously worked round to deliver a gag, rather than a gag re-worked to develop it into dialogue. As a result, people say some pretty unnatural things and then wait rather awkwardly for the laugh to subside before carrying on with the story.
The other thing is the romantic storyline. Now I love a good romance and the careful plotting of a romantic moment in each episode did keep me coming back for more. Unfortunately the curiously chaste kiss which finally came at the climax of series three was a poor reward for my devotion. "Friends" really understood how much a believable romance could add to a sitcom but Lee and Lucy are no Ross and Rachel.
On paper, "Not Going Out" must read like it has everything it needs to succeed - the situation, the characters and the jokes - but it needs a spark of something extra too. I just hope to see that spark in the next series...
Monday, 17 October 2011
Mutual Support? Reginald D. Hunter and Steve Hughes
I went to see Reginald D. Hunter last night. I actually saw Steve Hughes and then Reginald D. Hunter.
So he had a support act, so far so normal. I usually quite like seeing a support act first because it's a chance to scope out a new comedian for the future. But last night was a bit different.
It wasn't that Steve Hughes wasn't good. It took a while to get used to his slow delivery style but the jokes were well-honed, strong and memorable. As he upped the pace he also upped the political content and he gave the impression of testing the audience to see how far he could go. I'd be intrigued to see where he does go in a full show.
Having given over the first half to his support act, Reginald D. Hunter started the second half with a warning - gently and elegantly preparing the audience for the difference between Reginald D. Hunter on stage and Reginald D. Hunter on TV.
Working without a mikestand, he used his rich, deep voice to develop a warm rapport with the audience which genuinely did turn the Norwich Theatre Royal (which can be a bit cavernous for comedy) into an intimate bubble where secrets were safely revealed. The chat was great but, like his support act, the sections were linked more by swigs of water than by any thematic thread and this was a weak point in both acts.
Reginald D. Hunter came across as a generous man and he took time out of his own set to promote his support act. However, the fact that he has become well known while Steve Hughes has not (yet) still means that Steve Hughes has to handle performing to a room full of people who have come to see someone else, while Reginald D. Hunter has to handle the fact that a man he clearly considers a friend and peer is now his support act.
Despite their obvious pleasure in touring together, it was a slightly uneasy mixed bill. I couldn't help feeling that, like two naughty boys at the back of the class, they might both do better work if they were separated.
So he had a support act, so far so normal. I usually quite like seeing a support act first because it's a chance to scope out a new comedian for the future. But last night was a bit different.
It wasn't that Steve Hughes wasn't good. It took a while to get used to his slow delivery style but the jokes were well-honed, strong and memorable. As he upped the pace he also upped the political content and he gave the impression of testing the audience to see how far he could go. I'd be intrigued to see where he does go in a full show.
Having given over the first half to his support act, Reginald D. Hunter started the second half with a warning - gently and elegantly preparing the audience for the difference between Reginald D. Hunter on stage and Reginald D. Hunter on TV.
Working without a mikestand, he used his rich, deep voice to develop a warm rapport with the audience which genuinely did turn the Norwich Theatre Royal (which can be a bit cavernous for comedy) into an intimate bubble where secrets were safely revealed. The chat was great but, like his support act, the sections were linked more by swigs of water than by any thematic thread and this was a weak point in both acts.
Reginald D. Hunter came across as a generous man and he took time out of his own set to promote his support act. However, the fact that he has become well known while Steve Hughes has not (yet) still means that Steve Hughes has to handle performing to a room full of people who have come to see someone else, while Reginald D. Hunter has to handle the fact that a man he clearly considers a friend and peer is now his support act.
Despite their obvious pleasure in touring together, it was a slightly uneasy mixed bill. I couldn't help feeling that, like two naughty boys at the back of the class, they might both do better work if they were separated.
Monday, 10 October 2011
More stories, less mess - a plea to Adam Hills
When asked if I wanted a ticket for Adam Hills at the Norwich Playhouse, I just said yes. I didn't read the blurb in the brochure. My entire thought process was, I like him, book it.
And I do like him. In fact, he is notoriously likeable. He comes across as genuinely warm and his comedy is inspired by a real love of people and life.
But when I finally did read the blurb for "Adam Hills: Mess Around" my heart sank. The one word which haunted the description (whilst not being part of it) was 'Impro'.
Okay, it's only fair if I say right now that I am not a big fan of Impro. I know some people (actually a lot of people) love it. There are two reasons why I don't...
1) While it is an amazing skill to be able to think up witticisms on the spot (and comics definitely get extra laughs for that) it is quite rare that those witty responses are better than carefully crafted jokes.
2) Similarly, material generated out of banter with the audience or via tweets is also extremely unlikely to be funnier/more interesting/better told than highly polished and neatly edited comic routines.
Admittedly, Adam Hills had warned anyone who read the brochure what his show was going to be like - but even he seemed a bit apologetic for the looseness of the structure at times. He is a skilled improviser and carries the audience with him but the whole thing lost momentum whenever he pulled out his mobile phone.
For me, the frustrating thing was that I really enjoyed the pre-written part of the show - the big set-piece stories he told. I could have listened to him tell stories all night. I just wish he'd done that.
And I do like him. In fact, he is notoriously likeable. He comes across as genuinely warm and his comedy is inspired by a real love of people and life.
But when I finally did read the blurb for "Adam Hills: Mess Around" my heart sank. The one word which haunted the description (whilst not being part of it) was 'Impro'.
Okay, it's only fair if I say right now that I am not a big fan of Impro. I know some people (actually a lot of people) love it. There are two reasons why I don't...
1) While it is an amazing skill to be able to think up witticisms on the spot (and comics definitely get extra laughs for that) it is quite rare that those witty responses are better than carefully crafted jokes.
2) Similarly, material generated out of banter with the audience or via tweets is also extremely unlikely to be funnier/more interesting/better told than highly polished and neatly edited comic routines.
Admittedly, Adam Hills had warned anyone who read the brochure what his show was going to be like - but even he seemed a bit apologetic for the looseness of the structure at times. He is a skilled improviser and carries the audience with him but the whole thing lost momentum whenever he pulled out his mobile phone.
For me, the frustrating thing was that I really enjoyed the pre-written part of the show - the big set-piece stories he told. I could have listened to him tell stories all night. I just wish he'd done that.
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