Larry David’s accomplice makes up for the fitfulness of a half-assembled show with infectious off-the-cuff comedy about bras, body lotions and creepy old men
‘I’m aware it’s not been the best show,” says Jeff Garlin – and he’s right. It has been some unconnected bits of material cribbed from notes – a rehearsal for a forthcoming off-Broadway run, he tells us. It should be billed as a work in progress, but isn’t: tickets start at £26. Yet it’s more fun than Garlin’s last visit to Soho, when he also used crib-sheets but was more tied to scripted routines about his over-eating. Here, the ratio of ad-libbing to rehearsed material is higher, and the Curb Your Enthusiasm man is clearly having enormous fun. For the most part, it’s infectious.
It starts oddly. I have no idea why the lights come up on Garlin chatting to UK comic Naomi Cooper (for a podcast), before surrendering the stage for five minutes to Irish standup Conor Drum. It’s that kind of gig: anything goes. Garlin identifies as an improviser, he says, more than a performer of prepared material. He’s here to try stuff out – such as dancing with his audience – and if it doesn’t all stack up, no matter. And so, his amusing off-the-cuff chat splices awkwardly with semi-rehearsed jokes, aperçus and shards of anecdotes – many of them free of context, consequence or climax. “I hate doing material,” he growls at one point. “It ruins my rhythm.” He’s not wrong.
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