Friday 21st November 2008 @ Colston Hall, Bristol

An image of Dylan Moran and the title of his new stand-up comedy show, What It Is, are projected through a net screen onto the back curtain behind the stage on Colston Hall, the double layers giving the illusion of a drunken haze; is this a subtle physicalisation of what is to come? In front of all the hustle and bustle as punters fall over each other to find their way to their numbered seats, the large stage sits empty, save for an erect microphone stand and a cloaked, round table with a single glass of red wine sat on top ominously, glowing, staring back at the crowd as they stare at it, absorbing their attention and preconceptions. Is the red wine another sign? Tonight are we going to watch Dylan Moran or Bernard Black?

Lights are dimmed and with Tom Waits’ cooing to welcome him onstage, instead of the dark, long coated miserablist we have projected on the stage and in our minds – a character we know and love from hit sitcom Black Books – a smiling Dylan Moran emerges and walks out to huge applause, clean shaven and in jeans, boots, a blue shirt and – gasp – with a fashionable haircut!

Still slightly unsure of what this unfamiliarly well-dressed man is capable of, Moran quickly settles us all in with some mandatory jokes about the city, how he was in dreary Plymouth yesterday and how great it is to be in Bristol; “…although as far as I can work out, all you do is export ships and drama students.”

We are soon all on side and laughing away heartily. Moran teases and tweaks us with tales and jokes, forever drawing out his surreal stories to the delight of those in front of him, but throughout he does seem a bit preoccupied and slightly confused. Early on in the set we are introduced to the themes that will dictate the jokes for the next 2 hours – vague topics of belief and maturing with age – but too often these strong threads are bent, blurred or completely lost as Moran violently veers off in a never-ending string of unrelated tangents – hilarious tangents on everything from companionship to gap years, Scotland to children and breakfasts to yoga – but you feel they need something more to hold them together. Undeterred, Moran weaves a tangled web of tangents, as offshoots spring new offshoots in more and more dense layers until we have completely forgotten what he was discussing.

Occasionally things are alleviated by a pause and a smirk as Moran takes a sip from his red wine, tries to rein himself in and to steer us back on course, again alluding to some overarching themes, but these realignments are more often than not followed by him throwing his arms wildly in the air and exclaiming in his rich, Irish accent; “Where was I again?”

Without strong direction, the jokes start to lack a little punch but within the stories and gags, you’ve got to admire his quick-witted, unscripted, random, off-the-cuff remarks and the way he draws out a punchline; “…dying…alone…on a rock…eating seagulls.” We are also treated to some occasional words of wisdom and insights which are welcomed with open arms; “God young people are stupid – but then you’ve got to be stupid to enjoy it. People say; ‘I wish I knew then, what I do now’ – no you don’t! Then you would have no stories to tell and be very boring and would never have stuck your penis in the waffle maker.”

These never-ending tangents Moran is guilty of, although are very funny and have the audience in fits of giggles, mean that by the end of the show we haven’t gone anywhere or achieved anything. A great stand-up comedian will take his audience on a journey, hysterically leading them along a path, often about a very serious subject, so that come the end of the performance, a strong message has been put across and there is thematic closure. This never-ending string of tangents mean it feels as though Moran never really got going and although his jokes and stories were well told and very, very funny, they lacked a tight edge and left me feeling a little unfulfilled.

If random tangents are your thing though, you with find Dylan Moran achingly funny and no matter what your tastes, he truly is the master of the extended, surreal punchline; “The doctor said describe the pain! – I said it feels like a Zulu with hay-fever…boiling hippies…in a wok…on a spacehopper!”

www.dylanmoranrules.com

Matt Whittle