Owen McCafferty’s new play could have had as its starting point John Updike’s line "Celebrity is a mask that eats into the face”, for it deals with stand-up comedian Steve Johnston, who hungers after success so much that he is prepared to jettison everything that matters to him – girlfriend, integrity, talent – to achieve it. And that description could indeed apply to many so-so comics currently plying their trade who gain financial reward in inverse proportion to their talent (no names, no pack drill).
Steve (Brian Doherty) starts out in seedy clubs, loyally supported by his girlfriend Maggie Fairbrother (Katie McGuinness making the most of an underwritten part), who appears to have given up her unnamed career to support his. He’s an edgy, politically aware comic whose material uses the c-word liberally, but then into his life comes shady agent Doug Wright (Shaun Dingwall), who promises him fame and fortune if he follows his advice. First Steve must break up with Maggie, who acts not only as his harshest critic but also his conscience, then perform bland material about self-service checkouts and his annoying girlfriend, and later be repackaged for television – almost literally, as Doug strips Steve down to his pants and dresses him in sleeker clothes.
The characters too often feel like ciphers making speeches rather than people talking to each other
In four break-out episodes we see Steve at a microphone under a bare spotlight, performing part of his act, during which his finale is gradually reworked to make it more palatable for mass audiences, a neat trick by the author. But in an evening about comics and the comedy industry, there are surprisingly few laughs, and a major problem of the play is that we don’t know whether that's because Steve isn’t terribly good, or because McCafferty can’t write convincing stand-up. To be fair, comedy critics would allow themselves a wry smile when Doug advises Steve to do material about going to the gym, even though he doesn't, or running marathons for charity so that the public will think he is a nice guy.
McCafferty has chosen what should be a rich area to explore but sadly has unearthed few nuggets, and this isn't Trevor Griffiths's Comedians – rather it's a black-and-white morality play with none of the grey areas in which real people live, even success-hungry comics. It’s a wordy 80 minutes lacking any real drama and in Steve Marmion’s rather static production there’s an awful lot of jawing going on at the front of the stage. The characters – named Comedian, Girlfriend and Agent in the text – too often feel like ciphers making speeches rather than people talking to each other.
But the performances are committed and Michael Vale's simple set, in which hanging backdrops representing seedy club, backstage and TV studio disappear one by one, has the clever effect of making Steve’s stage, literally, bigger as his fame increases and his integrity diminishes. His transformation from rough-edged observer to bland and soulless entertainer is complete.
- Death of a Comedian is at the Soho Theatre until 16 May
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