Tag Archives: Northampton

Review – Julian Clary: A Fistful of Clary, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 17th April 2024

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We’ve been fans of Julian Clary since I can’t remember when; except I can – we saw him as The Joan Collins Fan Club at the Civic Centre Aylesbury (such glamour) around 1988, when I believe Fanny the Wonder Dog was a guest artiste. Times have changed, but Julian, significantly, hasn’t changed much. If you’ve got a winning formula, I guess there’s no point altering it. But it’s important to keep relevant; humour is a constantly evolving thing – you wouldn’t get Bernard Manning on a stage today (OK, I know he’s dead but you get my drift) no matter how technically brilliant a comedian he was (and he most certainly was). Does Julian still offer his punters what they want?

On the whole (and there’s the first of my Claryesque double entendres), yes. A Fistful of Clary sees Julian reimagining himself as a western hero (that’s Wyoming, not Cornwall), so that’s a cue for some spangly cowboy outfits and a backdrop that includes the most phallic cactus you’ve ever seen. Apart from that, the first half is typical Clary, bouncing brilliantly off the audience, gently insulting them to the rafters, ridiculing his assistant, Bertha the lesbian, but it’s all very playful and hilarious. He tells us about his escapades performing on a cruise ship to a bunch of well-meaning geriatrics and fills us in (there’s another) with some amusing reminiscences regarding his appearances in TV’s Taskmaster and The Masked Singer, as well as on stage in Jesus Christ Superstar and Cabaret.

He has a couple of running gags, neither of which work, sadly: allowing himself a brief rest every so often as if he were playing tennis at Wimbledon whilst a pre-recorded pundit gives us commentary-style updates on his performance; and a quick burst of showbizzy music about how everything’s alright which goes nowhere. He gives a heartfelt tribute to his friend the late Paul O’Grady, which is delivered surprisingly tastefully, but is also a repetition of his identical segment in last year’s Palladium pantomime. If you haven’t heard it before, it moves you; however, if he keeps resurrecting it, it might start to feel a little maudlin. He ends the first half with a song written by his panto pal Gary Wilmot, entitled I Love a Knob. It refers to butter. Allegedly.

The second half returns to the Wild West theme with what feels like a gameshow lifted straight out of his old Sticky Moments programme – or indeed, before that, Bruce Forsyth’s Generation Game when the self-styled Balls Pond Road Theatre Club would enact their little plays in which the contestants could humiliate themselves. Six willing-ish gentlemen of all shapes and sizes plucked from the audience joined him on stage, four of whom ended up donning costumes and acting out a modest little tale which culminated in a Western Showdown between Julian and Peter, who works at Barclays, in the role of Bad Norm Lamont. This takes up nearly all the second half, and is – in its highlights – extremely funny, but at other moments feels like treading water. It very much depends on how willing the victims, I mean volunteers, are.

Sadly, a lot of the show felt under par, and indeed, under-prepared. Julian forgot the lyrics during two of his songs, and you could clearly tell that the words to a third were written on the ground in front of him. Even a performer with the enduring seasoned confidence of Mr C occasionally had that startled rabbit in headlights look as he was trying to work out what would happen next. Unfortunately, that’s a killer for a comedy show because if the audience sees the performer failing in any way, it makes us uncomfortable. I wouldn’t want to over-emphasise this, because for 95% of the time he is on his usual crest of a wave. However, he wasn’t tip-top, which is just so unlikely for the big JC.

Is his humour evolving? Perhaps not as much as it should; however, I wasn’t expecting the show to end with a very post-ironic number with the refrain It’s Not Cool to be a Queer, which even name-checks Brianna Ghey, a song that stuns us into a sad silence that not even the arrival of glitter falling from heaven can quite restore. All in all, it’s an unusual evening’s entertainment, not without hilarity and skill, but I’m wondering how much longer this much-loved comedian can make this level of content last.

Review – Mixed Bill Comedy Megashow, Comedy Crate at the Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 13th April 2024

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What’s that phrase about little acorns and big oaks? It was seven years ago when we attended our first Comedy Crate Weekender, held in local Northampton pubs; even then they were getting top quality acts to perform. Now they’ve really hit the big time with two big shows over two nights – Friday at the Milton Keynes Theatre (in collaboration with the Comedy Cow team) and now Saturday in the imposing Derngate auditorium, where most of its 1500 capacity seats were sold. And what a night it was…

Our host for the evening was the deceptively hilarious Boothby Graffoe – I say deceptively, because he comes on stage like he’s dressed for a night in front of the telly, and you ask yourself if this chap is ready for the job ahead – and boy, is he ready. Fantastically self-deprecating, he mines brilliant humour out of his guitar and mouth organ without ever overdoing it; he’ll offer us half a song and leave it hanging with lyrics that deliberately finish early because there’s nowhere else to go with them, and it’s simply side-splitting. He’s adapted one of Tom Lehrer’s patter songs listing loads of countries rattled off at tremendous speed – and then tops it off with a devastating final line; and even his parting words at the end of the show about where you could follow him had us in hysterics. Great work, Mr G.

First out was Marcus Brigstocke; I’ve always loved his comedy, but the last time I saw him he threw a Babybel at me – it was at his Cheese and Whine show at the Edinburgh Fringe and I guess I just whined too much. No matter, all is forgiven, and he gave us a great set featuring concerns about the Royal Family, the difference between news coverage now and in The Good Old Days, and a truly hilarious segment about asking idiots to comment on current affairs: watch out, The Jeremy Vine Show. Packed with terrific observations and quite a few funny voices, it’s intelligent, powerful, thought-provoking comedy that lands every time. A superb start to the night.

Next up was Josie Long, whose Tender show we saw four years ago on tour, a winning and hilarious look at pregnancy and motherhood, mixed with some irresistible left-wing lambasts. Now, she’s still offering comic observations of family life with some very clever and recognisable set-ups. Her wry, quieter style of comedy possibly suits a more intimate environment than the vast Derngate stage and didn’t lead to quite the same level of belly-laughter that the others achieved. Nevertheless, it was an enjoyable set with plenty of great lines.

Our mega-headliner was Omid Djalili, whom we’ve seen many times and never fails to delight. The man irradiates stage presence and had us in the palm of his hand within seconds. He has an unerring ability to lead you up a garden path with a story only to whip it around and take you somewhere completely different. Great use of his own physicality, with his fantastic ear for accents and the power of intonation; but what also comes across is his essential kindness, nowhere seen more clearly than in his valedictory observations about the humour of the late Barry Cryer and Sean Lock. He’s not afraid to tackle very serious subjects head-on; at least twice he discussed with appropriate sobriety the appalling killing that’s taking place in Israel and Gaza, but even then he manages to rein it back and cloak it in a comedy setting, without comprising either the seriousness of the situation or the humour. A truly skilful comedian, and he sent us all home with an uplifted spring in our step.

A great night of comedy. Nice people at the Comedy Crate, can we do it again please?

Review – Moby Dick, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 10th April 2024

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The history of literature is peppered with books that everyone recognises and everyone thinks they know about but hardly anyone has read. New Yorker Herman Melville wrote many works of fiction, including the posthumously published Billy Budd, Sailor, now much better known as an opera by Benjamin Britten. But none has stayed in the public’s mind more firmly than Moby Dick, published in 1851 and today recognised as one of the Great American Novels. I confess I haven’t read it fully, only dipped into it; to be honest, Simple8’s production in association with the Royal and Derngate is the closest I’ve ever been to understanding what this whale of a tale is all about.

CompanyCall me Ishmael, our narrator confides in us at the start of both the book and the play, instantly setting up an informal connection with his audience. As the only – spoiler alert, sorry – survivor of the Pequod’s final voyage, we trust him to tell us the truth. He says he loves life at sea and needs to escape there occasionally – in modern parlance, for the sake of his mental health. Yet as we follow his journey from sleeping on an inn floor, befriending Queequog the whaler, and encouraging the owners of the Pequod to let the two of them join the ship, we realise – no pun intended – that he is indeed a fish out of water. He has much to learn about the ways of the waves, which helps us to identify with him, as we see the story unfold through his eyes.

CompanyMelville wrote Moby Dick in an eclectic style. Formal, floral, and fanciful, but also erudite, educational, and almost anarchic. On the face of it, it’s a simple story about a man taking revenge on a whale for having bitten his leg off. However, it’s not a conventional adventure story in the way you might consider, say, Treasure Island to be. Yes, there is adventure within the plot; as there is also the peril of the high seas, the terror of a whale attack, and the inevitable fear of loss of life. And the final few chapters of the book are packed with those kind of Boy’s Own Comic thrills.

Beware AhabBut this isn’t the book’s overall purpose. Much has been written about the allegorical nature of the book and its religious significance, which can best be understood through the Biblical names of the characters involved. Ahab, beware Ahab, warns the Captain’s chief mate, Starbuck, and that seems to me to be the ultimate message of the story.  Captain Ahab is so committed to killing Moby Dick that all common sense flies out of the window; he is prepared to risk everything, including the lives of all the men under his command, for that one, selfish, quest. Man is often his own worst enemy, and this is a perfect illustration of that sad truth.

Grand sceneJesse Jones’ production of Sebastian Armesto’s adaptation excels at the storytelling. Ishmael’s experiences are relayed to us with direct simplicity and clarity, and we can easily understand the sequence of events that leads us to the final fatal scene. The inclusion of sea shanties adds to the nautical flavour of the piece and reflects Melville’s own use of songs as part of the book. Johanna Town’s lighting for the production is perfectly judged and adds enormously to our appreciation of the show. The set design by Kate Bunce is delightfully minimalistic and it’s extraordinary how you can conjure up a convincing impression of a ship with just a few planks, ropes and steel frames. All in all, the staging looks terrific.

Queequog and the restThere are some great performances too. The whole cast work together as an ensemble superbly well, many of them taking to their musical instruments at the same time, appearing as many diverse characters. Mark Arends plays Ishmael with an honest and intimate nature, opening up as he gains confidence in his surroundings. His developing friendship with Queequog – a warm and generous performance by Tom Swale – is elegantly and beautifully expressed. Guy Rhys plays Ahab as not so much a tyrant but more a man fixated and determined on his own course of action. Amongst the other roles, I loved James Newton’s brief appearance as the English Captain Boomer, but everyone does an excellent job.

CompanyHowever, for me, there is one big problem with this production. Whether it is in pursuit of Melville’s unusual writing style or the allegorical nature of its meaning I am not sure, but for a story that involves mortal danger, thrilling chase, and a ruthless environment, it all comes across as terribly safe. Quiet, sometimes tentative, occasionally cosy, I felt little sense of adventure or danger. Important climactic moments feel too clean and clinical, almost as though the drama has been choreographed out of it. Even the sea shanties, superbly performed as they are – some wonderful harmonies there – lack attack and power. As a result I found it surprisingly unmoving and sedate.

ShantyMaybe I was expecting more big fish action; a 19th century Jaws this is not. It is, however, an intelligent and careful dramatisation that links closely to Melville’s original, with some excellent performances and staging. There’s a lot to appreciate here, just don’t expect much in the way of thrills. After Moby Dick swims on from these shores, the tour continues to Perth, Wilton’s Music Hall, Ipswich, Northern Stage in Newcastle, the Isles of Scilly (a most appropriate and innovative booking), Blackpool, York, Malvern and ending in Oxford mid-June.

Production photos by Manuel Harlan

3-starsThree-sy Does It!

Review – Life of Pi, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 3rd April 2024

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I remember missing out on seeing Lolita Chakrabarti’s stage version of Yann Martel’s novel Life of Pi when it opened in Sheffield five years ago. Since then, it’s hit the West End and Broadway, garnering awards by the bucketload as it goes, and is currently nearing the final few months of its UK and Ireland tour, with a US tour on the way. You could say it’s been pretty successful! Confession time: I haven’t read the book, but I have seen the film – and I’m afraid it left both Mrs Chrisparkle and I cold. Can Max Webster’s stage production give it the magic it needs?

PiLet’s go back to basics. Sixteen year old Piscine Patel, at home in Pondicherry with a loving family who run the local zoo, can’t get enough of God. So much so that he attends temple in the morning, church in the afternoon and mosque in the evening. He’s decided to shorten his name to Pi, primarily because his schoolfriends and brother take the piscine out of his full name; but I’m sure it’s no coincidence that Pi also gives us π, the mathematical magic number that plays its part in ruling the universe – mind you, what do I know? I only just scraped Maths O Level fifty years ago.

HomeIt’s while crossing the high seas on an attempt to create a new life for themselves in Canada, accompanied by a rag-tag collection of wild animals from the zoo and the world’s surliest cook, that they are shipwrecked. All the animals eat/kill each other until only Richard Parker, the Bengal Tiger, is left; and with Pi being the lone human survivor, they’re stuck together at sea for 227 days. Unbelievable, no? But that’s the point. Life can be unbelievable sometimes, and you’d better believe it. Mrs Okamoto may think Pi is spinning a tale of deceit from his hospital bed in Mexico, but just because something seems impossible, it need not necessarily be so.  There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, etc.

ShipwreckedPiscine, of course, means swimming pool in French, so from an early age young Pi was destined to be surrounded by water. Commentators have suggested that the sea in which he gets shipwrecked represents God because it’s everywhere; others say it’s the tiger who represents God because Pi both loves and fears him (and indeed talks to him – and the tiger talks back.) Either way, it’s a fantastical story, and, at the end of the day, Pi is the epitome of a true survivor. Is it because of his faith in God? You decide.

Amazing setThe production fortunately taps in to all the exhilarating and magical aspects of the story and is a hugely engrossing two-and-a-quarter hours of visual theatricality. The combination of Tim Hatley’s set design and Tim Lutkin and Tim Deiling’s lighting design is irresistibly evocative throughout the show. The stark hospital room (reminiscent of Act Four of Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake, by the way) opens up into the family Pondicherry courtyard, filled with butterflies and warmth; later the walls reveal numerous secrets as the scene transforms into the ship being tossed on the seas. The lighting is also constantly evolving and suggestive and plays a huge part in the scene-setting.

Pi and TigerAt the heart of it all, and – I think – never off stage, is Divesh Subaskaran’s Pi, a dream of a professional debut, and a performance brimming with confidence, style, vulnerability and strength. Even though (hopefully) none of us will ever face the same challenges as Pi, he makes us easily identify with his character and inside we’re cheering him on to survival. Endearing from the very start, he is the kind of performer you can’t stop watching. Surely he will have a great career ahead of him.

Tiger and PiThe other superb performance is from the actors/puppeteers who bring Richard Parker to life, an extraordinarily physical feat but also artistically riveting, as they echo precisely those terrifying tiger movements – sly and threatening, powerful but delicate in its actions. The whole cast form a true ensemble, with many of them covering several roles, but standing out for me is the great support from Lilian Tsang as the no-nonsense Mrs Okamoto, and an enjoyable comic turn from Chand Martinez as the inspirational Admiral Balbir Singh.

BoatThere’s a moment shortly before the end when Pi offers an alternative explanation of what truly happened on that shipwreck. I was reminded of Hercule Poirot proposing two solutions at the end of Murder on the Orient Express – one that could satisfy the officials; and one that was the truth. Pi gives Mrs Okamoto an account that’s less fantastical and more believable. But is it more palatable? Sometimes it’s best to trust in the unbelievable.

PiLife of Pi continues its run this week in Northampton and then moves on to Nottingham, Wolverhampton, Liverpool, Shrewsbury, Southampton, Bath, Truro, Cheltenham, Glasgow, Edinburgh and finally Salford in July. A great set, great puppetry and a superb central performance – and you’ll probably be talking about what it all meant for days.

Go TigerP. S. There is an explanation for why the tiger is called Richard Parker. I did wonder if some other parallel universe contains a moderately successful suburban accountant named Shere Khan. It would only be fair.

P. P. S. I was surprised at the effectiveness of the savagery of animal on animal violence. Remember Buckingham in your prayers.

Production photos by Johan Persson

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review –Pete Firman, TrikTok, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 15th March 2024

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Book for a Pete Firman show and you know you’re bound to have an evening of both laughter and total perplexity. His latest show, that was due to appear at the Royal and Derngate a few months ago but was postponed due to the dreaded RAAC, is two hours of Pete, alone on stage apart from when he is joined on stage by his victims, I mean, members of the audience who have volunteered to assist him, and it’s as joyful an experience as ever.

In some respects, he’s an unlikely looking showman, walking on stage without a lot of fuss, sporting a stripy T-shirt like it’s Dress Down Friday, a mass of unruly hair like an overgrown kid from The Romper Room. He has a touch of the modern day Eric Morecambe to him, and instantly garners a terrific rapport with the audience, whom he gamely insults, but we let him get away with it because he’s clearly such a nice guy.

I’ve lost count of the times when I have said to myself, I’m not going to take my eyes off his hands so that I can work out how he gets that signed card/£20 note into the zipped up part of his wallet, and once again I let myself down. In TrikTok (I see what he did there), Mr F has assembled a good dozen or so pretty much brand new tricks to astound us, ranging from the deceptively simple handkerchief that changes colour to the swinging helicopter of peril – the peril being that if in you’re in the first few rows you might get splashed with cola.

But some of his tricks truly defy everything we understand to be basic truths of life. For me the most gob-smacking moment was his moving pattern of solid wooden blocks that shatters the laws of geometry. I won’t say anymore so as not to ruin it for you – but how on Earth does he do it? It was also fun to be involved in one of his tricks, as one of three audience members who had to select a card from a pack that had been thrust to us from the stage in a bucket. Naturally, by the power of mentaltransference, he guessed which card I had picked. (Note – it wasn’t mental transference, it was a trick, and I have a tiny inkling of how he did it, but again I’ll say no more.)

Trick after trick entrances us, and the evening flies by. The tour has been so successful that extra gigs have been lined up during the summer, so if you haven’t had a chance to catch this show, you still can in Maidstone, Beccles, Andover, Middlesbrough, Barnard Castle, Chipping Norton and Darlington. A great night out – and you’ll go home buzzing with confusion!

Review – Comedy Crate at the Charles Bradlaugh, Northampton, 14th March 2024

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Another great fun night at the Charles Bradlaugh Northampton courtesy of those nice people at the Comedy Crate. You can tell the gig is going well because the show had been sold out for quite some time, and the vibe amongst the audience is always excited and fully confident of a good night ahead.

Our host for the evening was the excellent Will Duggan, who hits the ground running with his cheeky repartee and is a master of the audience-based callback. Any material he gathers from the front few rows at the beginning of the evening will inevitably return with a smart comic twist at some point later on. He got to know (as did we all, by association) Sarah the blood machine seller, Amabel whose parents couldn’t spell Annabel, and Kempton and Michael the roving school caretakers. Mr D kept the evening moving at a cracking pace and it was always a pleasure to enjoy his entr’actes.

First up was Mark Bittlestone; at first I thought he was new to us but I remembered seeing him four years ago doing a work in progress show at the Leicester Comedy Festival with comedy partner Haydn Jenkins, and they were a very entertaining combo. Mark appears to be doing more solo work now and he has a very assured and fluid style, but his only subject material was his sexuality, and after a while you rather wish he could move on and talk about something else! He occasionally adopts a strange accent (I think to suggest sarcasm) that personally I found rather alienating. That said, he had plenty of good material – the Yorkshire porn star routine is hilarious – and a warm connection with the audience, and he gave us an enjoyable start to the evening.

Next came Don Biswas, whom we saw at the Edinburgh Fringe last year; he wastes no time in explaining about his dyspraxia, autism and ADHD, all of which he uses wisely in creating some blisteringly funny observations and beautifully delivered one-liners. Through his comedy he really allows us to see inside his world, from his anger at world politics to his frustrations at still living at home aged 39. His winning persona is always upbeat and he builds a terrific rapport with the audience. As the young people of today might say – nailed it, mate.

Our headliner was Jen Brister, whom I was surprised to realise we haven’t seen since 2013, and she has grown into a complete superstar in the art of stand-up. Like Don Biswas before her, you see directly into her life, with superbly recognisable accounts of a 49-year-old woman’s experiences, and brilliant observations about getting older, and the ignominies and horrors of the menopause. All this to put up with, but she can’t quite yet cope with having to wear varifocals. We all laughed our heads off all the time she was on. It was one of those comedy sets where you go home feeling you have a better understanding of the human condition – and loads of laughs got you there.

Rob Auton at the Bradlaugh next week – we can’t go, but you should!

Review – Miles Jupp, On I Bang, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 5th March 2024

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An evening spent in the company of Miles Jupp is always a convivial affair. We saw his Songs of Freedom tour in 2016, a delightful pot pourri of comic observations channelled through his suave gentlemanly persona, where his public school charm turned on a sixpence to deliver unexpectedly downright rude material. His new show, On I Bang, is a much more concentrated affair, telling one complete, true story: his brush with an alarming health scare in 2021.

Picture the scene: having had a pleasantly undemanding day on the set of a TV programme, delivering the words of Jed Mercurio to an eager creative team, he found himself in the unenviable position of suffering from the mother of all brain spasms – a veritable mental explosion of bright lights in his head and incapacity in his body. An undiagnosed brain tumour had started to work its magic and caused a seizure. Mr Jupp takes us through that initial horror and guides us through the next few months of his life, in hospitals, on an operating table and in recovery. And whilst he does create an atmosphere where you have a ghastly sympathy for everything he went through, it’s primarily an account of all the humorous aspects of that awful event.

Mr Jupp is a raconteur par excellence; he knows how to make an occasion out of a chat. It was good to see that he’d made an effort with his appearance – smart suit, nice pink tie, pocket handkerchief and all that; the man treats his audiences with respect, which we consequently return.  It occurred to me during the show that he is rather like a heterosexual Julian Clary; full of rather barbed sideways comments, delivered with deliberate, disarming charm, elegant savagery, and frequently fabulous.

He is a master of the passive aggressive remark, which he makes with effortless ease about all manner of people and things, certainly including his own kith and kin. He’s clearly in a happy place with his family, yet he shares his perils about having five children, a wife with a tendency to clutter, a mother who doesn’t know when to stop, and a father-in-law who always knows best.

His exquisitely structured monologue creates a bond between us, so that we completely understand his fears from the whole situation. Not just the life or death stuff, but the more hard-hitting aspects, like whether or not he can still drink alcohol, and the ignominies (not to mention pain) of administering an MRSA swab test and having a catheter removed.

They say that if you don’t know what to write about, write about what you know. If you’re going to suffer a life threatening health-based episode, you might as well make it work for you. Sometimes if you go to a comedy gig and the comedian is using you as therapy for something they’re trying to come to terms with themselves, it can be a tricky and uncomfortable event. That’s not the case here.Rest assured that Mr Jupp is perfectly at ease with everything he’s experienced and is completely in charge of his emotions; not that you would expect anything different from the product of one of the more minor prep schools in Berkshire.

A painstakingly beautifully written show, delivered with deft assuredness and a true feel for the comic potential that lurks under the surface of disaster. Miles Jupp has been banging on about this for a couple of months now, but his tour runs until May and still has several more dates in some of the UK’s most charming locations, although many of them are sold out so you’d better be quick. A brilliant night of comedy!

Review – Screaming Blue Murder, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 2nd March 2024

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Well hello again, old friend. Since the regular Screaming Blue Murder nights in the Underground were suspended due to the RAAC we have missed you very much. Now in the grander setting of the Royal Theatre, prior commitments meant we couldn’t attend the earlier Royal Screaming Blues, but at last we have put this right. A big phew all round! I must confess, I wasn’t sure how the Screaming Blue vibe would adjust to the Royal, but it works superbly – organisers take note, this is a very good combination of show and venue!

And it’s a welcome back to Mr Murder himself, Dan Evans, hosting the proceedings with all the sure-footedness of a mountain gazelle. Just because we’re now in a more formal venue, it doesn’t mean he can’t spy the characters in the first few rows of the audience. Thus we gained a certain degree of insight into phone-fiddler Lee and her ex-train driver husband, the Hunsbury Probation officer, the English teachers from Rugby who missed the last act to get their train, the Nottingham University trainee medics, and someone in telemarketing. That was all much more entertaining than it sounds. Dan was on terrific form with some blazing retorts and all the talk in the foyer and Gents’ toilets was how funny he was. Hope it doesn’t go to his head.

Our first act, and someone we’ve seen many times before, was the excellent Diane Spencer, a self-confessed vision of ginger pallor, whose strength lies in that marvellous contrast between an innocently posh exterior and not-so-posh nor innocent material. She gave us an excruciatingly brilliant routine about pole dancing and didn’t hold back on telling us the details of what can happen under her sheets. She has a wonderfully self-deprecating style and it’s easy to identify with all her stories. A superb start to the night.

Next up, and new to us, was Joshua Bethania, the funniest thing to come out of Bangalore since the last call centre excuse you were told. His delivery is quiet, gently paced and could be mistaken for laid-back; but in fact his set is exquisitely structured, with a wordsmith’s ear for le mot juste, and immaculate timing that nails every joke. Although his material is all from familiar territory, he puts a fresh spin on everything so that it feels completely original. Sometimes the languid approach by a comedian can fall flat on its face, but Mr Bethania uses it with such inventiveness that his act is a joy.

Our headliner was Richard Morton, another familiar face, full of attack right from the start, riffing off the audience with effortless ease, and giving us some truly funny musical parodies. His cost of living crisis version of Eddy Grant was (literally) priceless, and he ends with a hilarious reworking of a Tom Jones classic with which you can’t not join in. I reckon he and second-row-Rob will be besties after their comedy collaboration! You’re in the safest of hands with Mr Morton, guaranteed to make you shake with laughter.

A brilliant night of comedy. The next Screaming Blue Murder will be on 2nd May – can’t wait!

Review – Royal Philharmonic Orchestra play Dvořák Symphony No 9, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 25th February 2024

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It comes a regrettable surprise that this was our first visit to a Royal Philharmonic Orchestra concert in Northampton for two years! And it was only four years ago that we last saw the RPO perform Dvořák’s New World Symphony – it is indeed one of the most crowd-pleasing choices for an orchestra to perform, as could be witnessed by the packed Sunday afternoon audience at the Derngate.

Our conductor for the programme was Shiyeon Sung, the first female conductor from South Korea to take up the baton at some of the world’s most prestigious orchestras. Whilst some conductors can approach the podium in a frenzy of excitement, Ms Sung adopts a pose of quiet dignity, sombrely turned out, guiding the orchestra with reserved authority. Continuing the international theme of the concert, the orchestra also welcomed a Guest Leader in the form of Swedish violinist Philip Zuckerman, a superb soloist in his own right.

Our first piece was Beethoven’s Leonore Overture No 3 in C Major; if you’ve never heard of the opera Leonore, that’s because Beethoven worked it up later to become Fidelio. The overture starts solemnly and relatively simply, with plaintive chords that build into a rush of excitement and joy. It’s very much an all or nothing kind of piece; it’s either an unassuming placid beat or a rip-roaring riot. The orchestra gave it a great performance; the trumpet fanfares coming from Stage Right were outstanding in their effectiveness.

Next up, we welcomed our soloist for the afternoon, cellist Zlatomir Fung, the RPO’s Artist-in-Residence for 2023-24. Looking for all the world like the happiest young man in all of Northampton, he beamed his way to the podium in preparation for performing Haydn’s Cello Concerto No 1 in C Major. Ms Sung abandoned her baton and conducted the orchestra with her hands only, coaxing out all the emotion of the piece, and Mr Fung produced a gorgeous rich tone from his 1717 Tecchler cello. The concerto demands great skill as it progresses from a stately baroque through to a beautiful central melody, rising to a stunning allegro finish, and Mr Fung demonstrated his amazing skill in abundance. A glorious experience to take us to the interval.

Finally we had the main dish of the day, Dvořák’s New World Symphony, No 9 in E Minor. Much more than just the Hovis theme, it’s a beautifully structured and exquisitely orchestrated series of wonderful tunes, inspired by Dvořák’s experiences in America. In another stand-out performance, Ms Sung helped the orchestra to bring out a brave delicacy in the second movement that you rarely hear, with the confidence to build in meaningful pauses that emphasised the beauty of its theme. And the fourth movement was delivered with such power and a sense of triumph that you had to hold back a desire to sing along! The whole orchestra gave a tremendous performance, and you have to congratulate the percussion for the perfect precision playing of possibly the most significant use of the triangle in all classical music!

It’s always a delight and a privilege to see the Royal Philharmonic on tour. They return to Northampton in May for a performance of Verdi’s Requiem – can’t wait!

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – Phil Wang, Wang in There Baby!, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 20th February 2024

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Another of these shows that were postponed due to the presence of RAAC lurking at the theatre, this is (at least) the third time that Phil Wang has played the Royal and Derngate, but, shamefully, only the first time we’ve seen him. A familiar face on Have I Got News For You and similar TV treats, does he spin the same comedy gold that he shares on television? All will be revealed…

But first, the warm-up act, and the imposing figure and voice of Ed Night; new to us, and he looks like he’s probably about 15 but awfully tall for his age. In fact he’s been doing comedy for ten years and has already had four Edinburgh shows – and you can tell the confidence and experience. He clearly has a very fast brain and the ability to connect well with the audience. It was a shame, then, that he started his set with some very dubious material about mental health and an old joke about OCD that didn’t appeal to me at all and also didn’t hit home with the crowd. However, as he warmed up, so did his material and I loved his observations about Scooby Doo and the way he completely abandoned his prepared material to investigate the presence of three shiny bald heads in the front row. There’s a lot of good comedy in Mr Night – he just needs to ditch the iffy stuff.

On to the main event, and Wang in There Baby, Phil Wang’s most recent tour show that started last March and just has one more airing on 23rd February at London’s Eventim Apollo, no less. Performing in front of unfurled, Chinese-influenced, banner flags artistically announcing his name, his quiet unassuming style and relaxed physical presence lull us all into a sense of security – not a false sense, as Mr Wang never leads us down surprise garden paths or tricks us into believing something that he then proves to be untrue. You sense he’s a truly honest performer!

He’s excellent at contrasting the two cultures that he knows about – his Malay/Chinese upbringing on the island of Borneo, and the southern English teenage years and adulthood that followed. He’s also a choice wordsmith; developing very cleverly prepared sequences with le mot juste for every occasion. This allows him to tackle some quite challenging subjects but always with delicacy and lightness of touch: no better example than his singing along to Kendrick Lamar hip-hop tracks replacing the n-word with something more suitable.

Phil Wang’s gift is to take a genuinely tiny idea and expand it into something hilarious for a prolonged exploration. For him, big oaks truly do grow from little acorns. The simple observation that Brits don’t reheat rice, for instance, flourishes into a good fifteen minutes’ worth of classic cultural comedy. There’s a brilliant examination of how the contrast between British and American pronunciation of the same word can have a joyfully funny effect. At his best, Mr W is a great example of the less is more approach to comedy, and that’s often quite hard to find. And whilst I wouldn’t exactly call it a family show, it’s very refreshing to come across a comedy performer who rarely goes anywhere near a swear word.

Having seen him once, I’m sure this won’t be the last time!