A Feeling For Foot & Fielding

It’s long been a device with comedy reviewers to use what might be termed the bastard-love child technique as a means to describe someone that does not present as obviously describable. With Russell Brand they’ll often resort to a mix that includes scarecrows, Edward Scissorhands and the odd S&M reference. Think Ponchinello raven and you’ve got Noel Fielding.

Much has been written in previous reviews about the shire horse content of Ash in the Attic, a spectacle that has to be seen to be believed. Yes ladies and gentlemen, there’s some neat psychological trickery involved here which evolves, to a degree, according to audience reaction. On any given night the response can be markedly different (and is on the two nights we saw the show). It’s sharp stuff and Paul gives a powerful performance, expressing outrage at an audience member’s supposed homophobia as a result.

What might be termed higher brow elements of the show, like the narrative on Charon that Foot delivers with Rachmaninov’s Isle of the Dead playing in the background, are surprisingly accessible. An audience totally devoid of any familiarity with mythology or classical music will still get him. And he is a captivating storyteller – those of you who remember Jackanory will long for its return when you’ve seen Paul Foot reading from an open book on his lap. It’s apparent from his delivery of the tale that Paul Foot knows a thing or two, but he’s not one of those oh-so-clever comedians who plays a superiority game.

Despite his knowledgeable air and his delightful eloquence, he’s not indisposed to displaying his comedic physicality. A protracted fit that nearly has him falling from his stool has the crowd belly laughing. If Paul Foot is ever electrocuted, this outburst demonstrates what he might look like during the process. On the night of his final performance Foot takes the fit a stage further, flinging himself onto the floor in a berserk convulsion. He appears to be double jointed – at least his legs go in directions others’ legs can’t go in. How does he keep those pristine slacks clean? And why is this insane seizure, complete with rolling eyes and lolling tongue, so unreasonably funny? Don’t know, it just is, especially coming as it does hot-on-the-heels of the other ‘clever’ content. And that’s another thing, with Foot ours is not to question why. Much comedy these days is victim to de-construction, we’re all so analytical, never entirely happy to accept that something works without knowing why it does or how it does. Magic is often lost as a result of this attitude. Mr Foot’s work cannot be de-constructed. Why is his frankly surreal observation about obviously being from the seaside hilarious? Again, it’s impossible to say why this and his other punch-line free non-jokes (disturbances) are so amusing; the genius perhaps lies with the fact that Foot knew they would be.

Paul deals with a heckler on the 27th with such disarming skill and in a way that doesn’t detract from the show, but in fact enhances it, that it’s a joy to watch. And no, the rude guy isn’t a plant (how could you think such a thing?), he’s absent on the final night and the show, despite being scripted is played out quite differently but in an equally entertaining manner by Paul.

Foot confesses to something of a career struggle on the comedy circuit claiming to have become an overnight success after 17 years, now it looks like he’s set to become (dreaded phrase warning) a National Treasure. One of those persons we can’t help but take to our hearts. Paul Foot is inimitable, rare and unfathomably funny.

Editor’s Note: To read more about Paul Foot and find out where he’s playing next, why not visit his website.

Review © Juliette Shaprio (@VenusDiMileage)