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Lipstick and Laughter
The lack of prolific stand-up comics in Britain is marked mainly by the successes of "entertainers" - we are a nation that embraces variety-show duos like Morcambe and Wise or Reeves and Mortimer and favours the more surreal aspects of humour against the practised stand-up. But is that hardly surprising? Britain has an appalling record of great stand-ups - since the war-time cheek of Max Miller through to the nasty prejudices of Chubby Brown and Bernard Manning, the majority of specifically working-class British stand-up comics have been working class rednecks, misogynist xenophobes. On the alternative side of things, the subversives (Clary, Eclair, etc.) may be funny but are only mildly successful. All lack the bite of such Yankie greats as Lenny Bruce or Woody Allen, whose finely-polished, well-honed comedy not only demonstrated great minds at work but also exercised personal demons. Bruceís killed him whilst Allenís made him into a great film auteur. So it comes with a feeling of great pride that Britain has finally produced a stand-up worthy to conquer the world. That man is Eddie Izzard, who, after a record breaking eleven-week sell out tour of London's Shaftsbury Theatre, brought his brilliant observational comedy to de Montfort Hall. Observational, I say, yet Eddie Izzard's observations are far from that. It's as though he takes in the riches of the world then puts them through a meat grinder, sprinkles them with cocaine, digests then offers the bile to his audience. Further than that, it's impossible to put into words what makes Eddie Izzard so special. One can feel the manís mind ticking over as he performs what must be by now a well rehearsed routine, yet it feels as though this is the first time it has ever been perfomed. Izzardís choice of subjects reveal a man constantly baffled by a world on the verge of a new millenium; the creation myth, technophobia, historyís great men. Now that Izzard no longer needs to explain his transvestitism, his confidence has grown along with the intelligence and dazzle of his act: he descends on to centre stage in a large arm chair (remember Madonna's girlie show tour and the bed?), wearing skinny rib, pink pants and platform heels and instantly launches into a spiel on Noah and ark. Izzard's act is a one-man retrospective of a thousand years of dilemmas, paradoxes and anachronisms. The reason one feels so humble watching him perform is the sheer energy he puts into every single line, constantly moulding his act according to the audience response to each joke, transgressing because of a heckle, building an accidental cough into a five minute monologue on people in elevators. While the rest of the alternative comic circle were happy doing appearances on That's Showbusiness and going to Oasis gigs, Izzard has been working hard on becoming something truly great - the first commercial, philosphical and intelligent comedian to come out of Britain in the last fifty years. Now that he has finally grown up Eddie Izzard is ready to take the world by its horns and into the next century and millenium. |