Stewart Lee confronting his inner beast in the poster for Stewart Lee vs The Man-Wulf
EIGHTEEN months ago, contrarian comedian Stewart Lee played five nights at York Theatre Royal as he cut his lupine teeth on Stewart Lee vs The Man-Wulf.
How has the show moved on as he returns for three more nights in York, switching to the Grand Opera House? After a re-write in January, the basic structure remains the same, Lee ambling on stage in billowing shirt to say he still doesn’t know quite what the show is about, whether it’s even worth him doing it, but those fangs are even sharper. “I’m not a stand-up,” he asserts. “I’m more of a literary artist.”
He turns convention on its head once more by being both acerbic, acid-witted entertainer and heckler. Last time, he chided the audience for York giving him his flattest night on his previous tour, when he had picked the Theatre Royal to record his TV and DVD release. “You ruined it,” he grouched.
This time, he may have sold out everywhere else on tour, he says, but the Grand Opera House was, in his words, “only half full”, and those who had turned up would be berated on behalf of those who had failed to do so. Tonight and Saturday’s shows have plenty of ticket availability too, especially in the Grand Circle, so the digs will no doubt continue.
Please note, Lee’s curmudgeonly schtick is delivered with good cheer in becoming a running joke. It will be the absent York’s fault that we miss out on two “toppers” as we fail to laugh in sufficient number to merit them; even the dry-ice smoke to signify his transition into the Man-Wulf will emerge from only one side, to match the “half-empty” auditorium. It had behaved erratically at the Theatre Royal too, but this time the pay-off gibe is better.
By now in his tuxedo jacket, Lee knocks out his topical five gags, set in place 18 months ago, but in need of constant updates and revisions. He takes pot-shots at Ricky Gervais, Jimmy Carr, Russell Brand, the BBC’s Laura Kuenssberg and Gregg Wallace (later to rise above the stage as the face of the Moon). Musk and Trump too. Always deadpan, but always deadly accurate.
Amid the constant cajoling of his audience, he can be self-deprecating too, returning every so often to the ever-lengthening list of unflattering Lee lookalikes. He keeps you on your toes throughout, even spotting the gum-chewing of an occupant of a dress circle box, and he likes to ask questions to which he will then deliver a smarter response than the audience member proffered
That said, York was in blunt mood on a hot night. “Please leave me alone,” requested one voice from the stalls, when asked a second question. “I wasn’t listening,” said another, after Lee sought a comment of his transition into the Man-Wulf of the title.
“We’d all love not to care and be off the hook,” he speculates once more, as he did at the Theatre Royal. “To not be accountable.” Like how a werewolf or vampire thinks. Except that Lee holds everything to be accountable: politicians, fellow comedians, York audiences.
When he asks a woman if she would prefer to be a vampire or a werewolf, she picks the vampire on account of the werewolf ‘s thick fur, a choice perhaps influenced by the June heat wave: conditions that Lee would soon be experiencing in the opening to Act Two, dressed in his £6,000 werewolf costume.
First up, he was telling liberal jokes in a liberal way. Now, after I’m The Man-Wulf, the song commissioned by Lee from Scottish garage-punk band The Primevals, had played throughout the interval, he was in his lupine attire for his pastiche of the comedy of offence perpetrated by Netflix-marketed, 60-million dollar, right-leaning stand-up comedians.
Cue reactionary jokes told in a reactionary way in a gruff American accent, in front of a New York skyline: grotesque, awkward, yet devilishly witty in its deconstruction.
To complete the experiment, he tries out reactionary jokes told in a liberal, left-leaning way, by now stripped down to tour T-shirt, boxers and the wolf’s head.
Above all, you will revel in his turn of phrase; how he picks up on American comic Dave Chappelle’s misuse of grammar; his request for Dave Allen storytelling lighting; his restless curiosity; his knowledge of experimental jazz and stone monuments, his way of being shambling but never rambling; his mimicry of Bob Dylan’s ever-worsening singing in concert; his boundless despair at humanity.
Stewart Lee vs The Man-Wulf, Grand Opera House, York, tonight and tomorrow, 7.30pm. Box office: atgtickets.com/york.
Very good review Charles. As ever, trying to explain how good SL is to a newbie or non-believer can be a difficult venture. Your review did it admirably. I have seen Lee on numerous occasions and venues – ranging from the original tiny Shed in Brawby, to the Royal Festival Hall down in that London. Even a short spot at a music festival a few weeks ago. He has never disappointed me.