Andrew Doyle's Crash Course in Depravity
A full-on assault on the borders of taste
This article is from 2011.
Russell Kane has made a habit out of turning negative comments by reviewers into the show title for his subsequent Fringe show. Easy Cliché and Tired Stereotype and Gaping Flaws were both borne from lines penned by critics. Andrew Doyle has not only stolen a line from a bad review, but has grabbed it with both hands to form the basis for this show which explores the power of signs and icons and the various interpretations we place on imagery laid before us.
His Crash Course in Depravity is pretty much just that, aided (or led astray) by the directorial guidance of Scott Capurro who once likened Doyle to ‘Gore Vidal in a confessional’. Chances are the pair would have had a heated debate over the most controversial moment in Doyle’s show, a not-so fleeting glimpse into the kind of thing that used to get Moira Knox and her moral Edinburgh minority all enflamed. Usually this was due to Jim Rose sticking a nine-inch-nail into places that would seriously chafe a normal person, but Knox would have had a full-on conniption had she been present here.
It takes a strong stomach to prevent audience members from turning away (or fleeing the room) as Doyle takes the title of his show to new levels of bravery (or stupidity) with an act that was either brilliantly faked or fully justified the 18s only ruling for admittance. That moment aside, Doyle (who was once the comedy partner of Bridget Christie, their Axis of Evil playing the Underbelly in 2005), turns out to be a confrontational but largely genial host, flirting with and baiting the lads in the front row, while on screen, a blizzard of pornography has not long since faded out. His calmly apologetic plea that ‘I don’t mean to be offensive’ is later replaced by the primal howl of ‘I’m not depraved!’ Any shrinking violets looking on at that moment would probably disagree.
The Store, 556 5375, until 28 Aug, 6.20pm, £6.50–£7.50 (£5–£6.50).