‘Out of the Box’

Press, 3 August 1985, Page 8

‘Out of the Box’

“Out of the Box" at the James Hay Theatre, presented by various artists, at 8 p.m. on August 2. Running time: 135 minutes. Reviewed by Stephen Quinn. The “McPhail and Gadsby” show had an infallible way of preparing its audience for the humorous barbs they unleashed each week. On Saturday afternoons as the programme was being prepared, they would invite people along, ply them with wine, and thereby ensure an audience more than happy to guffaw their way through the assembled proceedings. It guaranteed plenty of background laughter. The organisers of this show have attempted a similar feat Lured by the presence of a “champagne buffet,” the public paid almost $3O a ticket to be entertained by a motley collection of New Zealand and Australian comedians. Unfortunately the champagne was not real and the humour was at best pretty scratchy. It is a rather sorry situation when talented people have to rely on an audience oiled by ordinary wine to elicit any response. The humour was induced by the bubbles of the ersatz champagne. Champagne theatre this certainly was not, and therein possibly lies the reason why the evening failed. The programme was called “Out of the Box.” The cameras were very much in evidence. Presumably iU wav an attempt to make aj| TV show out of a night of

live theatre. But this is impossible. It must be either TV or theatre, and not a vapid compromise. It is almost impossible to make good TV out of a live production because television by its very nature is a distillation of what is available. It needs special crafting and settings. The producer may be able to glean a reasonable half hour out of last evening. But I certainly hope he does not resort to sweeping the camera along the ranks of the laughing audience, oiled into accepting the mediocre after drinking some wine, as a way of suggesting audience appreciation. Perhaps last evening had already lost some of its potential because of the withdrawal of Billy T. James, laid low by a bout of suspected food poisoning. At least this saved him from the indignities of the curious canapes and appetisers presented with the champagne buffet. But what of the performances? It would be well nigh impossible to list them all. An Auckland group called Funny Business opened proceedings. The best thing that can be said about them was they came back later for more self-inflicted punishment. They were followed by two Australian comedians, Anthony Ackeroyd and Vince Sorrent, and a Kiwi poet and raconteur, Gary Mac Cormack. They all tried hard, and struggled. It was a case of the dilemma men- , tioned earlier — were they Z trying for TV studio humour *' dr theatrics? In either case

they failed, save for a few redeeming lines like the one about Jim McLay being “about as popular as a blood donor in a blood bank suspected of having A.1.D.5.” Things improved after the interval, though I daresay they had to. Here we were presented with the old favourites of Christchurch audiences — McPhail and Gadsby. Mr Ackeroyd gave us some good one-liners such as the health club run by a Nazi called “Herr Robies” and David McPhail and Peter Rowley, side-stepping Macintosh’s toffees as astronauts on the Moon, discovered “an American Express card owned by John Kirk.”

Jon Gadsby concocted an incredible collection of bizarre place names, Funny Business gave us an equally bizarre rendition of synchronised rugby and David McPhail returned in the now-familiar role of Mr Lange, all hyperbole and hype. By now perhaps the ersatz champagne had worn off. A worthy finale of the night was an update, 50 years on, of Pooh Bear and Christopher Robin and the 100-acre wood. Peter Hawes introduced the scene with his usual panache and the entire cast descended on the stage. Again I am not sure what the over-all intent was, but the audience seemed to like it.

It was a finale that paralleled the mood of the show — an attempt to float along on the champagne bubbles of hysteria. At times it worked/but more often the' bubblesrburst.