Telly Talk: Tall tales
Several years ago, as the live comedy scene in Brighton was simply burgeoning and the buds of new ideas to entertain were reaching up towards the sun, a certain Mr Rufus Hound (then semi-regular compere at Komedia’s Krater Comedy Club) had a chat with local photographer of comics Mr Ed Moore, and together they came up with an evening called ‘Slackernory’. It was a monthly storytelling night, running upstairs at the Earth & Stars pub, and gathered a mix of emerging comedy talent and emerged funny people to tell stories that captivated, thrilled and enthralled – as well as made everyone there laughs lots. A Jackanory for those who had grown up watching Rik Mayall cause a mess delivering George’s Marvellous Medicine, and telling grown up tales to boot. It was a great idea – comics turning their hands to a storytelling format, using all of their performance skills, and with the story taking precedence over the need for a speed of gags. Fast forward to now, and I am so looking forward to Dave’s latest venture, the wonderfully named Crackanory, hoping that it will pick up that baton once again and feed me the most delicious of bedtime story morsels.
“It will feed me the most delicious of bedtime story morsels”
Like Jackanory of childhood, the format is simple: a celebrity reads a specially chosen story. In this instance it starts with Jack Dee, talking straight to camera and telling a cautionary tale of the dangers of Twitter. With all the dark delight of a Screenwipe, the narration aspect allows for all manner of vitriolic description to be lovingly delivered, whilst looking you straight in the eye through the goggle box. Helping with the tale is a small reconstruction starring Sightseers’ Steve Oram, along with a few basic illustrations and animations. The simplicity of this again harks back to the simple time of storytelling. It’s not elaborate or flash, and all the more engaging for it. And Mr Dee is at his best having the worst in human nature confirmed on a very pedestrian, yet also quite surreal, scale. Nobody can scowl like Jack.
The second story – as each story is only about 12 minutes, like all the best verbally delivered tales – comes with an equally wicked glint as Sally Philips fills the still warm chair so recently vacated by Jack Dee. Her story – ringing like the back story of a Wes Anderson film or a Lemony Snicket book – steps away from the contemporary and semi-relatable and into a land of a ‘good’ people and quite how far that ‘goodness’ may stretch. It promises “toys, grief and taxidermy”, and delivers on all three.
In short, someone’s had a good idea, found some other clever and talented people and they’ve knocked this together at a budget price in the back room of somebody’s clubhouse. With a sign saying ‘Keep uot’ (stet) badly handwritten and Sellotaped to the door. And they’ve got away with it. I don’t mean that it’s in any way a cheat, more that the grown ups never found out and managed to put a stop to it all. Crackanory is jam-filled with mischief, adventure, fun and a dark sense of humour. This is clearly what happens when the kids go to bed and the adults twist the toys. And if we’re very lucky, all of the tales will be wrapped up in a bow and released as a brand new book in time for the Christmas shopping market. Now that would be inkeeping with a dark and cynical nature. Bangarang.
Crackanory, Dave, Wednesday 13 November 2013
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