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published: Aug-2008 for Three Weeks newspaper at the Edinburgh Festival
See my 2009 blog at www.cuttingthefringe.blogspot.com
In his stand-up Fringe show, ‘Goodbye Scars,’ Glenn Wool is getting personal. Really personal. In it, the charismatic Canadian (described as a cross between Jack Black and Meat Loaf) talks frankly about the aftermath of his nasty real-life divorce. “It’s about forgiving yourself for things,” says Glenn, “Sometimes it’s good to play things through, and to have regrets. It’s a theme I keep in all of my shows; where you end up is about where you’ve been. I think it’s a sign that you’re totally over something if you can talk about it on stage.”If this is the case, Glenn is certainly over it, and his honesty is effortlessly funny. “I think it makes it more accessible to everyone. I’ve said to myself this is the last really personal show I’ll do though. I’ll go on to more political stuff, drug humour, that kind of thing.” I had read somewhere that Glenn had given up drinking, but am assured that he has done no such thing, “I tried for three months, but then I had to give up sobriety.”As we appreciate non-sobriety together after his show, the edgy and buzzing Glenn that I saw on stage gives way to an equally affable, but exhausted, one. And it’s no wonder; directly before his gig he performs nightly in the Fringe hit ‘Office Party.’ “It’s a spectacular show,” he tells me, “I’m not just saying that. We did it in the Barbican in London in September as well.” He can’t stick around for the party which happens after the show finishes though, “I have to leave before it ends to get to my gig!”Like many, Glenn enjoys the collective aspect of the Fringe, “It’s like a convention of all of my friends. It stretches you as a performer too. I like that.” He feels that some are being stretched in the wrong direction, though, “What you tend to get with trends in comedy is that people at the forefront are really good but others just switch for the sake of it, when they should really do their own thing and find their own voice. Some people are just good-looking or something, or someone says to them ‘be like him!’ so they do.” This approach is definitely not for Glenn, whose constant semi-stoned air is punctuated by brilliantly extreme expressions of fear and surprise and sharp observations that reveal a shrewd talent for selecting material. He entrances the audience with detailed stories that build up to a single, triumphant punch line, which he says is all to do with know-how; “The stories I’m telling now I couldn’t have done as a less experienced comic. You learn how to hold attention. Before that you just know that something funny has happened but you don’t know how to put it on stage. I’ve still got stories in the bag!”After pursuing a particularly sensitive theme this evening, he explains that you can’t always please everyone. “I knew some people wouldn’t like it, as they didn’t like the original joke, but tonight I wanted to reward the core group who were enjoying it. As I always say, those are the kinds of things that lose you awards but win you an audience that you’ll want to stay friends with for life.” Glenn has undoubtedly not achieved the fame that his ability merits, which could be to do with his lack of interest in awards, but choosing to push the boundaries rather than play it safe is just another quality that recommends him as one of the most refreshing comics on the circuit at the moment.
--Glenn Wool – Goodbye Scars, Underbelly, 31 Jul – 24 Aug (not 12), 10.15pm (11.15pm), prices vary, fpp 54.Office Party, Udderbelly’s Pasture, 2 – 25 Aug, 8.00pm (11.00pm), prices vary, fpp 83.
published: Aug-2008 for Three Weeks newspaper at the Edinburgh Festival
"It’s funny how you can be in considerable physical pain but people think you’re happy because you’re wearing bells.” Fringe veteran Tim FitzHigham, the man who rowed the Thames in a paper boat and the channel in a bath, returns this year with his latest tale of epic morris dancing. His adventure paid homage to Will Kemp, Shakespeare’s clown. “Kemp suggested a part for Hamlet, a comedy dog on wheels. Shakespeare refused and explained that Hamlet was not a barrel of laughs; it was going to depress A-level students, possibly for 400 years. Enraged, Kemp decided to show Shakespeare the true nature of comedy by morris dancing from London to Norwich.”Always keen to tackle the bizarre, Tim felt he should give it a go. Hopeless at dancing, he underwent a month and a half of intensive morris training. “I like to go into things with no expertise, to prove that anyone could do it. It’s a very English thing – people saying ‘Don’t do that, you can’t do that.’ I’ve never lost the belief that if you stick at something hard enough it will become possible – within the laws of gravity, of course. Morris dancing is an inefficient way of travelling. You hop every four steps and two out of every four are backwards.” Tim’s expedition – in full Jacobean attire – received mixed response: “People would drive past me and then come back again and again to see how far I’d got, or pull over and give me cash for the charities I was supporting, which was great! Some people said I was dressed like a wanker but I explained to them that it was the height of fashion in Kemp’s day.” He even got detained by police. “It could be that Morris dancing is the last form of anarchy left to us,” he says.Tim is the first to admit that his is a painful, if unique, brand of comedy: “I lost a toenail – not the most glamorous thing ever – and all the skin on my right foot.” So why does he do it? “I love it in cartoons when Jerry hits Tom over the head with a saucepan. Cartoon pain is funny; it’s extreme comedy. I laugh at myself when I see the things I do.”Like Kemp, Tim hopped into Norwich after nine days. His Fringe show, ‘The Bard’s Fool’, takes his audience through his arduous journey. “I only have an hour to tell the story. The flag ceremony is always an integral part of my show. Through my maritime connections [Tim is an honorary Waterman] I take the venue into my command so that if I say anything vaguely slanderous nothing will come of it.”Tim is an old hand at the Fringe: “I love going. It’s a solitary life as a clown; you go back to a hotel after a gig and potter around. At the Fringe you see all your mates, it’s great!” Comedy has changed since he won the Perrier Best Newcomer award in 1999: “Back then I wrote my show the night before, now people do things that they’ve polished since March. The creative process is hidden from the audience, which is a great shame. It used to be an ad hoc circus but it’s like an industry trade fair now. Comedy is very supportive at the moment, though. There are times when everyone’s niggling each other but right now it’s like an extended dysfunctional family.” As his show will demonstrate, Tim is this family’s outlandish son for whom no tree in the garden is too high to climb.
Greyfriars Twisted Tales
The Bridewell Theatre Company In Association With City Of The Dead Walking Tours Presents The Martians
The Martians have landed, and we should listen to what they have to say. Or rather sing, as this returning Edinburgh band and some helpers turn their talented hands to the grisly stories of the famous Greyfriars cemetery. It turns out that Bobby the dog had some dirty habits. Consistently funny and with quality song writing, this fast-paced madness was pure entertainment. With minimal props, two guitars and a keyboard, the cast proved themselves to be masters of storytelling in song. This is an anti-musical for the masses; religion and Hitler don't escape mention, and there's some ingenious borrowing from a certain 'Mary Poppins'. I cried with laughter. Twice. It's about time Nessie got her own song.
Musical Theatre @ George Square, 2 - 25 Aug (not 5, 11, 18), 7.30pm (8.30pm), prices vary, fpp 172
tw rating: 5/5
published: Aug-2008 for Three Weeks newspaper at the Edinburgh Festival