Pierre Novelli: Sit there, I’ll stand here, Review – The masks are so good that resistance is futile | comedy

pIyer Novelli objects that life is getting harder for observational comedians because, in these isolated times, we have so few common points of reference. It would be a more convincing theory if he didn’t start his show with two of the most relatable themes known to comedy, become middle-aged and move to the suburbs. He’s smart and funny at both, mind you, and throughout the show, at least for a while, he sticks to familiar ’30s tropes: taking care of stacking the dishwasher; Fear of turning into a “crusty old colonel.”

You might be tempted to conclude that the South African-born Brit is a better writer than performer. His one-liners are often dazzling (“I played rugby at school the same way horses fought in war”) but his presentation is formally conventional and his delivery a bit harsh. I spent part of the show thinking along these lines, until the sheer quality of Novellie’s routines in the second half blew my resistance. His exasperated discussion of how people should dress in airports, with a funny sidebar on Winnie the Pooh costumes, is amusing, but pales next to the next section, about the game of chicken Novelli plays with the cleaners at his hotel in Melbourne.

This routine is a little masterpiece of Fucking ad extensionin accordance with the hotel’s eco-friendly laundry policy. The show then concludes with the shaggy dog’s epic, satirical tale of Novellie’s house move, which finds him moving across London with six large bags of bleeding beef hanging from his neck. Well, he’s not an expansive on-stage character like the comedians (Rod Gilbert, Ian Smith) whose acts recall this misadventure. At the same time, there are occasional hints that his gruff behavior as a colonel might be more than just a caricature.

But, especially in that stirring piece, he shows that his range of expression, if narrow, remains powerful: Consider the thousand-yard stare with which he greets the removal men when they arrive separately at their destination: “I’m not the man they left behind.” If this is an observational comedy in the year 2026, well, there’s still life in the old dog.