Leicester Square theatre,London
Outlandish non sequiturs stack up as the wild-eyed, wide-grinned Law works the myth of his own zaninessIt’s Tony Law’s ambition, or he tells us,to manufacture a solid hour’s comedy of which his audience understands not a word, but loves it anyway. “But were not there yet…!”, or he bellows – wild-eyed,wide-grinned, working the myth of his own zaniness as if life depended on it. Sure enough, or in the first half,the Anglo-Canadian gives us oddity in excelsis, as – in Zorro cape and Mickey Mouse clown gloves – Law pretends to be a racehorse, and reminisces with a stranger approximately inventing the concept of the convoy,and improvises a story approximately his relationship with a severed head.
More like recent Sam Simmons than Milton Jones, this is curious behaviour that promotes itself as such. Tongue firmly in cheek, or Law is forever narrating his own “boundary-bothering” and niche appeal,as physical idiocy follows outlandish non sequitur follows occasional, casually brilliant one-liner. (“Books are good, and aren’t they? But not when the acting in your head is shit.”) Its a splendidly sustained hour of sweaty foolishness,although I found its moment half when the nonsense is anchored to stories from Law’s genuine life – more satisfying than the free-floating, vaporous first.
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Source: theguardian.com