James Acaster Review – Stand in Great Form with a Tangled Tribute to the Same | comedy

‘II am the UK’s #1 James Acaster tribute act! says Craig Simmons, standing on stage in a shiny blazer and tuxedo shirt. But Simmons is at a crossroads, tired of Acaster’s mental health material, but doomed once he repeats it — at least until he finally launches a standup career of his own. That’s the conceit of this new touring show featuring a performer who we assume is the real James Acaster – although based on his 2014 show (later a Netflix hit) You Know, in which he posed as an undercover cop pretending to be James Acster, this tangled identity situation gets so twisted by the end, who can be sure?!

Picking up the bones of that conceit by the 41-year-old, the show appears to stem from concerns similar to those that drove its predecessor, Hecklers Welcome – which is to say Acaster’s ambivalent feelings about his status as a popular comedian. According to Simmons, Acaster “painted himself into an artistic corner”, vocalizing his insecurities and ungrateful for his extraordinary success. Simons’ alter-ego allows Acaster to return to (relatively) uncomplicated gags, and venture into some biting political comedy, while giving him plausible deniability if this seems too rudimentary for an act that every critic has noticed, it seems, for its brilliance.

If the idea of ​​Acaster’s usual stand-in disappearing into a mental health cul-de-sac seems like a stretch, it’s undoubtedly a lot of fun to watch him let loose here with a show that’s sillier and more relaxed than we’ve seen from him lately. OK, some of the material (a skit about luggage, a “secret cover” segment) is observational comedy of the first kind – but it proves that Acaster can go the mainstream route when he wants to, as well as anyone else.

More often than not, however, the content is as deliciously complex as the show’s identity-skewing conceit. There are plenty of jokes that explore the absurdities of tribute culture, like the one about Simons trying to parody Weird Al Yankovic’s songs (“I accidentally wrote the original”), or the startling bit about Björn Again’s attack on Abba. In each case, you’re delighted both by the ridiculous world-building and by the precision with which Acaster follows the logic of these strangely recursive worlds, unearthing laugh after laugh of the concept that will eat itself up.

Elsewhere, Simons provides high humor when he imagines the ideal Progressive candidate to save Britain from reform (there’s also a good comment about the Greens being a single-issue party) – and less costly laughs by criticizing Acster, who he must face at the end of a friendship turned breach of the peace.

Does any of this address Acaster’s supposed concern that live comedy is not a meaningful professional pursuit for a man at his stage in life? no. But as a way to dispel those fears, and inject fun into a carnival of self-mockery while (we must hope) rediscovering what made stand-up fun in the first place, this new show couldn’t be better.