Enchanting, hilarious, nostalgic and progressive: Review of Robert Newman, Komedia Bath, 25-09-2013

Ok, you know what it's like...  You're going into the tail end of the most mood enhancing heat wave summer you can ever remember, the kids are back at school tomorrow, and already your local supermarket has a designated aisle, just bursting with tinsel and advent calendars.

The very concept of the four months ahead, is enough to bring you right down, so your friend suggests you both need something to look forward to, before the "C" word takes over every television channel, every newspaper and every shopping trip.  There's a bit of a buzz going round on Twitter; apparently Robert Newman is doing an autumn tour, and one of the first performances is in Bath. You live very near to Bath.  "Let's do it!!"  you say.  "Can't wait!!"

Broken Umbrella by emichii

The end of September comes, the sunshine skies and candy floss clouds are a dim and distant memory, as you shuffle to work with your umbrella with a broken spoke and shoes that leak when they get too wet.  A trip to the cash point machine confirms pay day is still two days away, you're getting a print out to check you have enough for the gig ticket you need to buy online tonight.   "Why did I leave it this late?" you curse, under your breath, as you try to balance the broken umbrella on your shoulder, pressing NO when the machine asks you if you want another service.

The following evening, you make your way to the Komedia, in shoes that make a strange squelching sound, because they're still wet from the day before.  Neither you, nor your friend have paid £23 for the included pre-show meal, you just about rustle up four quid for two cups of tea to try and warm your shivering bones, and you realise you've arrived so early, you literally have your choice of seats - literally!!  The only other people here, are eating!!  Since you're the kind of person who always arrives late to everything, this is a strange phenomena, and the critical superego inside your head urges you to take a seat at the back, where you usually end up, but, "NO!"  says your friend, "let's sit right at the front!"  So, somewhat reluctantly, you sit down in the second row, near the centre of the stage. Wow, you can see everything from here, the cup of tea is warming you up and you have plenty of time for a proper catch up about life and love, before the show begins.

I have read all of Robert Newman's novels.  Well no, I have bought all of Robert Newman's novels, but the third one, "The Fountain at the Centre of the World", sits defiantly on the blanket box next to my bed, half read... ignored.. neglected... I know, I know, he's such a good writer, but these days, I'm such bad reader.   I do intend to read in bed, but so often it feels easier, less demanding, to lie there watching yet another episode of Taggart on YouTube.  I've become lazy, I know this.  There's also a part read copy of  J K Rowling's "The Casual Vacancy" (I'm stuck on page 54 of that!!!), again, it sits there sulking, making me feel guilty, and yet there are hundreds of episodes of Taggart, beckoning me, seducing me, each bedtime... come and watch us, come and watch us... you won't have to think too much... and if you fall asleep we really won't mind, we'll even switch the laptop off for you at the end.  Scintillating prose or gruesome deaths and eagerly awaiting the moment when someone declares, "Therrs bin a mrrrdrrr!"   In the end, Taggart always wins.

Brilliant books by my bedside

But back to the Komedia, and after I've subjected my friend to all the gory details of my tiresome, tragic love life (probably due to the Taggart thing!) on walks Robert Newman, to rapturous applause.  This man is much loved and the place is now packed full of people around my age, all telling those sitting next to them how the last time they saw Rob, it was the 90s, and how they miss Jarvis and History Today.

I last saw Rob Newman with David Baddiel, live in 1992, I must have been either just pregnant with my oldest son, or shortly to become pregnant, it was the Coulston Hall in Bristol, and already there were rumours that Newman and Baddiel were falling out of love, as it were.     The first thing you notice about Robert, is how well he's aged, and I'm trying not to call to mind that rather unfortunate 2010 photograph of David Baddiel sitting on a camel.  It was such an unflattering angle!  None of this, with Mr Newman, he's grown into his slim, maturing body with integrity and ease, but then, I always thought he had an old man's mind, in a young man's body.   Baddiel used to say that writing and performing with Newman was frustrating, upsetting at times, because Robert, it is said, struggled with depression, low self esteem, paranoia, seldom valuing his own work, and David Baddiel has said how hurtful it was, to work really hard on something together, only for his comedy partner to immediately dismiss it as rubbish.  All of which left me wondering, who really had the low self esteem here?!!

Robert sounds less cynical now, and chatters away in an upbeat style, at times he seems positively optimistic, at others there's a slight sneer at this heartless, capitalist society we find ourselves living in.  You can feel the audience all sharing a silent appreciative "That's our Robert" sigh. 

The show is less political than solo performances in the past, more philosophical, Robert's humour has always been quite kind, if slightly bleak (where David Baddiel's style was perhaps more caustic) and here is a man who likes people, loves humanity, and wants to play a part in enlightening a few of us, as he meanders his way through life, taking far more dirt tracks than motorways, I would imagine.

Touching on Darwin and Dawkins, Laurel and Hardy, ancient humans, red harvester ants, flatworms, buffalos and matriarchal ape communities, the performance skips along pleasantly and with ease.  New characters, like the scary landlord, and funny little stories about family life enchant us (and it's a great relief that he must be finally over "Rachel") yet perhaps the biggest cheer takes us right back to Mary Whitehouse Experience days, when Robert was greatly respected as an impressionist, and he dons obligatory square framed specs to amuse everyone with a brilliant Ronnie Corbett monologue, which has us all in stitches.  There's also, naturally, a song, though the regular ukulele is now a banjo uke, but you get a warm feeling, like a big snuggly hug, taking you back to your 20s and 30s and a time when drama was so cool, and music was cool, and comedy was cool and even soap operas were cool (I bet most of us in the audience used to watch Brookie!)  Somehow Robert manages to connect with your younger self, while leading you into a future, which he reassures us, is surprisingly bright, considering all the dark things we have to contend with in 2013.

A thoroughly enjoyable evening!  My only regret... that I didn't have enough cash in my account to buy a copy of his new novel, "The Trade Secret", and get it signed, but hey, I won't leave it so long next time, and I won't go the day before pay day!!  It's been another knackering week, the evening is late, my duvet beckons, but perhaps I'll shut the laptop down, "Not tonight, Taggart".  Perhaps, instead, I'll pick up that book by the side of my bed.

:-)xx