Review – Paul Foot: Words
Paul Foot’s style could be fairly described as of niche appeal without raising too much consternation from his fans or, one suspects, the comedian himself. Yet Saturday saw Foot perform in a sold out 250-seat theatre to an audience that, for the most part, was happy to follow him through the looking glass to his unusual and esoteric world. Apparently, niche isn’t as niche as it once was.
Foot’s at once both an intellectual comedian, with a penchant for linguistic turns more typical of a poetry reading than a stand-up gig, and a jittery physical presence that lurches frantically and unsteadily around the stage. It’s a captivating blend, and one that even his detractors would have a hard time looking away from. At its weakest, Foot’s material veers off into the non-sequitur, such as a four and a half minute “madness” in which he spouted absurdities that, while initially enjoyable for their novelty, delivered diminishing returns. At its best, his minutely detailed rants revealed an intellectual acuity finely tooled to the deconstruction of the ridiculous habits and bigotries of polite society.
It is in many ways a precarious act. An early interruption threw the comic off-kilter, which lead to a reshuffling of the agenda; a late aside from an unimpressed attendee saw Foot take a moment to explain to the audience the subjectivity of comedy. Occasionally during the show he’d let slip a smile at a joke or a reaction, and for an instant you’d be reminded that it was a man on stage and not an abstract force of nature. The question of where the line falls between performer and character is interesting to consider but largely irrelevant, as being swept along in Foot’s wake for an hour is a delight regardless. After a Fringe full of self-deprecating comics with relationship woes and bland observations about life, it’s nice to dive right off the deep end. No wonder the theatre was full.
