BREVIEW: Ed Byrne – Spoiler Alert @ Town Hall 27.01.18

Ed Byrne – Spoiler Alert @ Town Hall 27.01.18

Words by Helen Knott

Ed Byrne warms up the healthy Town Hall audience with some amusing quips about the building work in Birmingham city centre. He takes the slightly generic line, “It will be lovely when it’s finished” and runs with it, extending it into a much funnier, and more topical joke. “You see all those signs for Carillion and think, ‘Oh fuck. It’s never going to be finished…”

Audience duly warmed up, Byrne launches into the gig proper. Called Spoiler Alert, he describes the catalyst for the show as being his concern about, “how spoiled we are, as people, as individuals, as consumers.” A lot of the material centres around Byrne’s concern that his two children are themselves spoiled. They go to a nicer school than he did, have better toys… “I’m raising two posh, English, boys.”

The examples Byrne uses to illustrate how spoilt his children are aren’t particularly horrifying. His children are able to watch specialised children’s TV channels, so they don’t have to wait until Saturday morning to watch cartoons. They ask for elderflower cordial and enjoy eating pesto. They aren’t particularly overwhelmed by an expensive trip to Lapland to meet Santa, because they saw him in Westfield shopping centre the Christmas before.

This is funniest when Byrne confides, “It’s all I have in me not to hate my own children”. And that he once considered letting his youngest child touch an electric fence as a “learning opportunity”. These kinds of thoughts quite likely pass through a lot of parents’ minds when their children are being difficult, but they’re rarely voiced publicly. It’s a little close to the mark for a number of audience members, who shift uncomfortably in their seats, as is a joke about wanking while camping and the section when he ruminates on the effect that getting divorced would have on his career (“a rich seam to mine”). It’s a gentile crowd, and I’m not sure that they’ve seen much of Byrne’s wanking material on the BBC.

It’s hard to take Byrne (a successful comedian with a big house and a nice car) seriously when he talks about how spoilt his children and the general population are. He starts the show by dissing the disappointing free snacks that he receives in tour venues. He complains about the – no doubt lucrative – corporate gigs that he plays. He criticises his tour manager for booking him into an arena in Derby, which he has no chance of selling out. There’s more than a whiff of “first world problems” about all this. I’m sure than Byrne must be making these comments purposely hypercritical to show that no one is above being spoilt; he’s too clever to lack self-awareness. But if we’re meant to be laughing at him as a character, he should ham it up a bit. In reality, it’s so cloaked under his cheery persona that you don’t really notice the absurdity of what he’s saying.

Byrne teeters on the edge of something interesting when talking about the way that we consume news. Instead of reading to challenge our opinions, Byrne argues that we seek news that is “tailored to our beliefs”. This probably is more prevalent than it used to be, with social media echo chambers trapping us into only ever reading views allied to our own. But Byrne’s example that we now only read newspapers that tally with our beliefs doesn’t completely ring true – there have been left and right wing newspapers in Britain for years; this isn’t a modern phenomenon. Still, spending some time teasing out how, in this regard, people are more spoilt than they used to be, and the impact it has on our political landscape, could have made for a compelling end to the show. Instead, Byrne quickly moves on and the point is lost between a weird rant about how semi-skimmed milk is indulgent and an unfunny anecdote about an author friend.

In essence, much of Spoiler Alert is a variation on the trope pedaled by grandparents the world over. Basically: “young people don’t know they’re born these days!” This would be fine if Byrne was exploring the topic in a particularly thought-provoking, novel or, crucially, funny way. Comedy doesn’t always have to be making a point and to have the aim of providing an entertaining Saturday evening for a roomful of people is completely valid. On the whole, Byrne achieves this objective, but too often the jokes and anecdotes meander without packing a punch.

For more on Ed Byrne, visit www.edbyrne.com

For more from Town Hall, including full event listings and online ticket sales, visit www.thsh.co.uk

BREVIEW: The Death Show @ REP 27.01.18

The Death Show / Graeme Braidwood

Words by Ed King / Pics by Graeme Braidwood

It’s probably just red car syndrome, but as I make my way to see The Death Show at Birmingham REP I find myself stuck in traffic and staring at a poster for The Maze Runner – Death Cure, before rolling adverts remind me that at dog tracks across the country ‘you bet, they die’. I squash two snails when I get off the bus. 

I eventually arrive at the theatre (after taking my life in my hands traversing the Paradise Forum road works) and run into a friend who is taking her daughter to see Coco – Pixar’s latest big screen animation about the Mexican Day of the Dead festival. The closing words to last night’s Monty Python film continue to circle around the back of my head, as my friend’s daughter tells me about the “magical adventure of a boy who learns to be a musician from his dead ancestors,” a context she seems quite at peace with. My friend’s husband, a vicar, is busy with a funeral. Fate is laughing and apparently leading today; religion is missing in many corners of this theatre.

The Death Show is the culmination of years of research from ‘theatre makers’ and self confessed ‘thanatophobes’ Lucy Nicholls and Antonia Beck, after the duo turned their curiously macabre small talk into an original stage production. It’s a huge subject without an end, both literally and figuratively, and the challenge to anyone tackling this topic is the seesaw of content and context.

The Death Show / Graeme BraidwoodBut this is theatre, and on entering The Door we are greeted by Nicholls and Beck dressed head to toe in respectful black – handing out tissues because “things can get a little sad and teary.” Centre stage there is a full sized coffin, with a coffin shaped ‘doorway’ stood upright and stage left. An order of service is handed to each audience member, with funeral favourite ‘Wind Beneath My Wings’ playing through the house speakers as we take our seats. The Death Show is clearly a show about death. And, just as clearly, there is no escape from it.

The premise is a funeral to our hosts and the dearly departed, who refer to themselves in the third person, mourning “the death of Lucy and Antonia”. After a short hat picked declaration of what sent the pair to their graves (which if it isn’t set up, may indeed prove the existence of a divine being) we kick of as every funeral should, with legacy. Or the purported achievements that can more serve to make sense of a life, rather than accept the loss of one. And whilst matinee crowds are not the easiest to make laugh, by the time we are watching the superimposed faces of Nicholls and Beck on the Kardashian babies the healthy (no pun intended) afternoon audience is in comfortable good humour.   

The Death Show / Graeme BraidwoodBut the mood turns, as we become voyeurs to the emotions that compelled Nicholls and Beck to write The Death Show in the first place. Namely, the organ failing fear that there is nothing but void. Following their initial meeting, a careful balance of abject horror and camaraderie, Nicholls and Beck embark on a creative challenge to bring ‘death out of the shadows’ – researching their subject with hands on experiences, which in turn make up the segments of The Death Show.

The first step on their Arts Council funded path to enlightenment is with a pair of “angry” Australians, who seem intent to “excrete death” whilst enjoying “a good work out” and some loosened hamstrings. Perverse, but I can believe it’s happening somewhere. Next up is the equally obnoxious and “more feminine” spiritual self help group, where Nicholls and Beck are encouraged to “breath in through your lady mouths” before affecting the faux shamanic monikers you’d hear on a marketing department team training day. Or in Moseley.

Whilst the rib dig at Down Under gets a little farcical, and arguably a touch… achem, both group experiences are an engaging mirror to the absurdity that can surround ‘those that know’. Spirituality, for want of a better word, is often a blank cheque for idiots to enlist more idiots in an exercise of group narcissism; Nicholls and Beck respond with parody and a sharp exit, as their journey continues. Answer my question about Descartes or just fucking hug me please.

Then it’s onto the more serious endeavour of preparing a body – a duty Nicholls and Beck performed whilst shadowing an undertaker as part of their research. Mental note: when a funeral director asks for some clothes for your loved one to be dressed in, don’t forget the underwear. Finally, we walk though the somewhat failed attempt to engage with terminally ill patients at a hospice; a brutally important avenue of exploration, but one Nicholls and Beck candidly recognise didn’t go as they would have hoped – playfully and painfully displaying the chasm of this contact. 

We wrap The Death Show to further honestly, namely that “we don’t have the answers… but we do have this rather wonderful dance” – as Nicholls and Beck display what makes their lives worth living, and in turn encourage us to say “cheers to the little things”. It’s a poignant summary, but one the writing and presentation have stayed true to across the narrative; an audience are not going to find the answers to life, death and everything at 2:30pm on a Saturday afternoon, just as the scriptwriters didn’t after years of research.

The point, I guess, is to be together whilst we work out what to do in the absence of any answers at all – and this is certainly where art can help us. Or, as The Death Show press release states, ‘to laugh, cry, stick two fingers up at the grim reaper and discover why talking about death is ultimately life affirming.’

Whilst some of us scream at the bottom of a bottle of bourbon, Nicholls and Beck took the challenge of turning their own self reflection into something to share – resulting in comedy, self deprecation, biological facts, and a Breakfast Club fist pump in the face of fear. The Death Show is a competent contribution to the bottomless pit conversation about our own mortality, delivered through a beautifully balanced story of hope, humour and fear. Plus it stands ram rod straight in the face of questions that can break a person in two – something, if nothing else, an audience member can take from this production that will hopefully help them with every day until their last.

Death terrifies me, to the point that I am obsessed with trying to unravel it, and I have long suspected that there is no amount of time, money or research that will bring about a collective understanding. ‘Like a room of blind people trying to explain the colour blue to each other’, is the line I land on. So, what am I doing on a Saturday afternoon in a room full of strangers? What are any of us doing here? Because what else can you do, especially when the sour mash has all dried up and there are no vocal chords left to tug.

The Death Show is also, quite simply, an extremely funny play. And if Christ, Brahma, Moses and whatever clandestine lizards there may be in The White House can’t give us any definitive proof, then that’s probably all we’ve got. Well, either that or insanity. Or song. Or even a little of all three, after all you know what they say. Some things in life are bad…

The Death Show

The Death Show tours across February, with dates in Leeds, London and Bristol – as presented by Outer Circle Arts. For direct event info, including full tour details and links to online ticket sales, visit www.thedeathshow.co.uk

For more from the Birmingham REP, including full production listings and online ticket sales, visit www.birmingham-rep.co.uk

For more on Outer Circle Arts, visit www.outercirclearts.co.uk

For more from BrumYODO, visit www.brumyodo.org.uk

BPREVIEW: Ed Byrne @ Town Hall 27.01.18

Ed Byrne @ Town Hall 27.01.18

Words by Helen Knott

Comedian Ed Byrne brings his Spoiler Alert show to Birmingham’s Town Hall on 27th January, in the first week of a UK tour that stretches into June.

Spoiler Alert is scheduled for 8pm at the Town Hall, with and tickets priced at £27 (+bf). For direct show information, including venue details and online ticket sales, click here.

Ed Byrne has been a comedian for around 20 years now, pretty much his entire adult life. He’s had hit tours, DVDs and has sold out numerous runs at the Edinburgh Fringe.

Byrne has also established a successful TV career, not just through his numerous appearances on comedy shows such as Mock the Week, Have I Got News for You and Live at the Apollo, but also in factual genres. Indeed, Byrne seems to have reached the enviable position of being able to create TV series about subjects he’s personally interested in, such as Dara & Ed’s Great Big Adventure in Central America and its successor Road to Mandalay – road trips that feature friend and fellow comedian, Dara Ó Briain.

Byrne is undoubtedly in comedy’s Premier League, with publications like the Sunday Times declaring that his work ‘could stand proudly next to any Izzard, Bailey, Carr or Skinner stadium-filler’. He certainly tends to mine similar ground to these comedians, though arguably without the quirks that make their voices truly unique.

Spoiler Alert was debuted and developed at last year’s Edinburgh Fringe, as Byrne traces his shift from a working class young Dubliner to a middle class countryside-dweller. He looks at the impact this change has had on his children’s upbringing compared to his own, and asks the audience “are we right to be fed up, or are we spoiled?”

It may sound like common territory for a mainstream comedian’s set, but with Byrne‘s effortless, laid back delivery (and those 20 years of comedy experience) he’s sure to bring an easy charm to a well-considered and fun evening of genial entertainment.

Ed Byrne on weddings – Live at the Apollo

Ed Byrne brings his Spoiler Alert show to Town Hall on Saturday 27th January. For direct show information, including venue details and online ticket sales, visit www.thsh.co.uk/event/ed-byrne-spoiler-alert 

For more on Ed Byrne, visit www.edbyrne.com

For more from both the Town Hall and Symphony Hall, including full event listings and online ticket sales, visit www.thsh.co.uk

BPREVIEW: The Death Show @ REP 26-27.01.18

The Death Show @ REP 26-27.01.18 / Graeme Braidwood

Words by Ed King / Pics by Graeme Braidwood

Running from 26th to 27th January, Outer Circle Arts presents The Death Show – performed at Birmingham REP in The Door theatre space.

Tickets are priced at £14, with each evening performance scheduled for 8pm. There is a further matinee performance of The Death Show at 2:30pm on Saturday 27th January, with a 30min panel discussion held after the performance with members of BrumYODO – ‘a community collective aiming to encourage open and honest conversations about death and dying.’

For direct event info on The Death Show at REP – including full programme times, venue details and online ticket sales, click here.

Created by Birmingham based ‘thanatophobes’ (Google it) and independent theatre makers, Lucy Nicholls and Antonia Beck, The Death Show ‘is a darkly comic journey of discovery and contemplation, exploring our universal relationships with death and dying’.

The Death Show @ REP 26-27.01.18 / Graeme BraidwoodAn original new production tackling the oldest subject known to humanity (…perhaps the second oldest, after sex) the creative duo spent time at local hospices – talking to both patients and practitioners, shadowing undertakers and training with celebrants. Coming ‘face to face’ with the subject of death, Nicholls and Beck then penned The Death Show – a stage play, written for two protagonists as they encourage an audience ‘to celebrate their own mortality. To laugh, cry, stick two fingers up at the grim reaper and discover why talking about death is ultimately life affirming.’

For a man who thinks about death all, the, freaking, time, this is a welcome addition to a conversation that is seldom had, yet seldom more important to have. After all, in the words of another curly haired obnoxious drunk, ‘no one here gets out alive’. And a bit of constructive criticism of how society can hide, especially from the inevitable, is rarely a bad thing.

However my fear (other than the Christian right controlling the afterlife) is that we get distracted by funerals. Death and the ceremony of remembering the dead are, to me, separate issues – both ones that need confidently addressing in modern times, but separate none the less. Telling people I want to be buried under a plum tree will not save my soul.

In 2018 – the year of whatever lord or secular crutch you so choose to cling to – we live in an age of tacit denial, sure, but also with the most advanced resources and references in recorded history. With the World Wide Web, never before has the human species been able to share stories and information with such a wide and easy reach.

Studies have been conducted across the globe into cardiac arrest, near death experiences and the transition of ‘alive’ to ‘dead’ – as we currently call the two states of being. Indeed, Dr Sam Parnia was the lead author on the AWARE study at the University of Southampton, which ran from 2008 to 2014 and ‘examined the broad range of mental experiences in relation to death’ from over 2000 patients in the UK, US and Austria. Every British tabloid has published stories on near death experiences, scientifically researched or otherwise, so every British tabloid reader is aware of the discussion. There’s even a Wikipedia entry on the ‘Afterlife’.

But art can so often be a healthier catalyst to conversation, especially when we try to address/understand the darker fringes or ‘taboo’ subjects of the human endevour. It allows us to take a more detached delve into frightening waters, with the hope of finding answers and perhaps even solace. And as questions go, it doesn’t get more visceral than ‘what happens when you die?’

How long was that panel discussion again…?

The Death Show

The Death Show runs at the Birmingham REP (The Door) from 26th to 27th January – as presented by Outer Circle Arts. For direct event info, including full programme times, venue details and online ticket sales, visit www.birmingham-rep.co.uk/whats-on/the-death-show

For more on The Death Show, visit www.thedeathshow.co.uk

For more from the Birmingham REP, including full production listings and online ticket sales, visit www.birmingham-rep.co.uk

For more on Outer Circle Arts, visit www.outercirclearts.co.uk

For more from BrumYODO, visit www.brumyodo.org.uk