Political comedian Andrew Maxwell returns to the Fringe for another hour of astute political commentary. He starts with the unwelcome reminder of Liz Truss and her short, disastrous premiership, before moving on to the state of Irish society, its recent discovery of racism, but also its (slowly-formed) progressive attitudes to sexuality.
Maxwell's style of observational comedy, coupled with his Dublin Irish accent, makes for comfortable viewing. Naturally funny, you feel that any story he tells will have you laughing. But I wonder if that comfort has extended too far, as I didn’t always feel Maxwell was putting in 'the bare maximum', instead riding on his charm and satirical nature to entertain the audience.
Slipping into the tropes around millennial bashing, Catholicism/Protestant problems, and the degenerates that make up some of the local areas of Dublin, you didn’t get the sense that Maxwell is really taxing his comedic talents. A particularly predictable story about a texting mishap only further cements that idea – it’s all stuff we’ve heard before.
But, that changes in the last part of the act. Having already spoken about turning 50 and getting off the treadmill that is the game of life, Maxwell pivots hard to a more personal and emotionally vulnerable place to talk about his dad. This is a real departure from the light-hearted levity of earlier, which made it all the more impactful. But don’t think that means the show ends on a downer – Maxwell pulls it back superbly.
If you know Andrew Maxwell, then you know what you’re in for, and if you’re new to his particular brand of observational wit, you’re in for a treat.
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