Les Dawson only gets a half-hour series this
time round, with a lot of very short sketches and one-liners crammed in. They
don't outstay their welcome, but few leave much of an impression. The most
interesting sketches are the two-handers between Dawson and special guest John
Cleese (WW1 batman and officer, patient and Doctor), which play Cleese's
natural authority, reserve and suppressed insanity off against Dawson's Northernness
and greater worldliness. In the Doctor sketch you can feel the two comedians
start to get a feel of each others' performance style and start to experiment
with their pausing and responses, taking the comedy in an interesting new
direction.
The singing and dancing is the most exciting part of this edition. Lulu performs an abridged 'Man Who Sold the World' dressed in a white trouser and shirt/ black waistcoat ensemble, with a white fedora with sparkly black headband. She performs the song as a character piece, setting her face in Bowie's 'gazely stare', with her arms pressed to her sides and shuffling about - its disconcerting to see her not smiling and moving about.
The choreography is yet more odd. The Irving Davies Dancers, a male/ female troupe dressed in white neutral clothing, do an interpretive science-fiction routine this week. To a soundtrack of Tristram Carey-type bleeps, the dancers form together to become a waggling organic gestalt (orange filter), and then break away to become a crowd of displaced, lobotomised individuals (white lighting). The music then changes to a romantic theme, the dancers form a circle around a male-female couple, the lighting turns magenta, and the couple dance together in swooping movements while being blown about by a wind machine. The music and lighting then revert their previous electronic/ orange-white settings and the dancers become a crowd once again. It’s an ambitious idea, and one entirely to be applauded.
The singing and dancing is the most exciting part of this edition. Lulu performs an abridged 'Man Who Sold the World' dressed in a white trouser and shirt/ black waistcoat ensemble, with a white fedora with sparkly black headband. She performs the song as a character piece, setting her face in Bowie's 'gazely stare', with her arms pressed to her sides and shuffling about - its disconcerting to see her not smiling and moving about.
The choreography is yet more odd. The Irving Davies Dancers, a male/ female troupe dressed in white neutral clothing, do an interpretive science-fiction routine this week. To a soundtrack of Tristram Carey-type bleeps, the dancers form together to become a waggling organic gestalt (orange filter), and then break away to become a crowd of displaced, lobotomised individuals (white lighting). The music then changes to a romantic theme, the dancers form a circle around a male-female couple, the lighting turns magenta, and the couple dance together in swooping movements while being blown about by a wind machine. The music and lighting then revert their previous electronic/ orange-white settings and the dancers become a crowd once again. It’s an ambitious idea, and one entirely to be applauded.
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