Andrew Maxwell is a genial Dubliner with a fine line in observational banter. He has his origins – as most stand-ups do – in the club circuit and I have seen him rip a room apart with his incisive wit and spontaneous style. However he seems constrained by the hour-long format, rather than liberated by it, and whilst the gags do come, they do not inspire the ferocious belly laughter for which he is rightly known.
Peddling around a mocked up rounders field on a children’s tricycle – he needs something to keep him focused he says – he certainly looks an odd sight. He is here to talk to us about fun, and how fear stops us having fun, and how the Brits combat that with apathy. It’s an interesting subject, although hardly groundbreaking, and whilst hour-long stand-up shows seem to need a concept in Edinburgh, this is one that doesn’t generate an hour of material.
There are some good laughs to be found, but for the majority of the time the audience are chuckling rather than roaring. Anecdotes about playing with his son in the park and wrestling a crocodile get a good reception, as does a very funny sequence about terrorists hi-jacking EasyJet planes bound for Alicante.
Overall however, this show is like spending an hour in the pub with a good companion (apart from the trike bit obviously); he keeps you gently amused for most of the time and throws in the odd very good gag here and there. There are some nice surreal one-liners but by the end of Maxwell’s hour your jaw isn’t aching in the way it should be.
3/5
Ciaran Murtagh
