Support act Boothby Graffoe illuminated the room tonight. With a short set comprising of directionless ramblings, incoherent tangents and baffling trains of thought, the routine was as sprawling and ludicrous as it sounded, yet somehow never felt at risk of losing focus. With charming improvisations and surreal songs, the act brought a hybrid of comedy to the Tyne Theatre & Opera house, at one stage fully rehashing his routine, with each improvisation, to ensure a late couple didn’t feel overcharged.
Boothby rocketed from idea to idea with thoroughly impressive confidence and energy, with each concept being fully realised and hitting the room perfectly. Graffoe brought something original, daring and unique to his short stay on the stage and it was beautiful to behold.
Starting his routine by showing a montage of all the Hollywood movies he has been in, Omid Djalili takes to the stage. You may assume that the video reel of his many movie credits would serve as a precursor to the routine, but it was never referenced again, as if only to remind us that Omid is a big deal. The set opened with a series of deliberately corny pandemic jokes, talking about a variety of new strains, each tied to a flimsy pun and punctuated by an increasingly disengaged dance routine ending in a penis joke.
As the show unfurled, the corniness of the jokes seemed less deliberate. Travelling considerable distance for a punchline, simple play on words became overwrought and overplayed. With early routines about the pandemic saying very little, the whole show felt a little flat and ill-considered.
Showing a short video where Djalili held some toilet paper in the air, with no payoff, set the tone for the night. Regurgitating hackneyed one-liners about poo that have been circulating since my own childhood, there were sections of the show that were nothing more than padding, buying time to justify the ticket price.
There’s no denying the prowess of Djalili: there was a purpose and sophistication in his every movement. Jumping alive when delving into particularly riveting stories, there were flashes of greatness peppered across the night.
Occasionally touching on his own heritage, Djalili launched into full force, as surprising anecdotes alarmed and delighted the audience.
An easy, inoffensive night of comedy that made for a fun evening activity is what was delivered, but maybe not the comedy masterclass that the adverts and proceeding reputation promised.
