Boothby Graffoe is odd. He lives in a world entirely of his own, populated by talking sheep, mutated children and actors in his fridge. It’s unlikely that we’ll ever fully understand him, but that’s no reason not to laugh along with him.
Unlike his contemporaries, Graffoe doesn’t really seem to have a point. He does make light digs at terrorism, America and politics, but these are so frivolous and fleeting, that any serious comment hidden in there is quickly forgotten as he stumbles onto the next thought. This leads to countless humourous moments, but lacks the sort of eventual pay off that we’ve come to expect from other surreal observers such as Eddie Izzard.
There is no doubt that Graffoe is entertaining – his internal conversations with a host of characters are particularly delightful – but he lacks an edge and any real hook. The audience happily titter along with his never ending stream of observations and improv, but he never really manages to fully captivate them.
Far from tiresome, the set is a little confusing and ends in a scene that is unexpected and bewildering. It works in some daft wee jokes, but seems like an incredible amount of effort for such a small result.
The best thing that can be said about Graffoe is that he’s entertaining. He won’t challenge, push or disgust you, but will make you happy and a little confused.
3/5
Richard Biggs
