Adam Riches, Soho Theatre

Unlike other comedians, Riches’s material is not primarily observational humour; there is only the briefest smattering of crude sexual innuendos or vulgar swearing, and the one liners are few and far between. Indeed, this is a one-man show with a difference: Riches dominates a series of bizarre sketches in the guise of different characters, using two (for the main part mute) accomplices and the audience to facilitate humour.

Presented with an ominously extensive line up of super-soakers, skateboards and swing-ball tennis bats and balls on the floor, and with the programme’s promise of “a fearless level of audience engagement”, I was pretty glad not to be sitting in the front row. The passive interaction of the first scene, where Riches ‘the agent’ releases a flurry of business cards at the audience in enthusiastically shameless self-promotion, lulled me into a false sense of security. This is dismissed when the subsequent short scene ropes in a full seven audience members with a swing-ball extravaganza. However, I needn’t have worried: Riches handles his audience with a deftly delicate touch, astutely picking people he thinks will be ‘game’ (this fortunately means there is a noticeable focus on my male counterparts) whilst refusing to compromise his helpers’ dignity, and structuring his 60 minutes so that the extent of audience involvement increases as our boundaries become more fluid. Involving such a large number and variety of people demands this sensitivity; there is nothing less funny than witnessing cringing humiliation if you are well aware that you could be the next victim. The success of his sketches relies on him never overstepping the mark, whilst pushing the audience to the extent of their interaction boundaries. It is quite remarkable, in retrospect, what Mr. Riches manages to make us feel is acceptably within the confines of comedy: the culminating exchange of fluids ‘like starlings do’ illustrating how adeptly he had managed to lure us into his web of audience participation, as he makes both us, and the man involved, find something so grotesque such fun.

Riches appears to have a quite inexhaustible supply of energy, leaping and bounding about the stage. The Las Vegas ‘Greatest Costume Change Ever’, where he wriggles through a tent-material circular contraption and various cardboard boxes, is a sure fire indication of his indefatigable determination not to take the easy way out. Worked in as an aside to the main material, it is also an example of how his self-referential humour works within the body of his comedy. It is, thankfully, never so intelligent or frequent that it could be labelled pretentious. Instead it works as if it is an afterthought; e.g., having briefly spoken on a rubber dinghy (which had sailed over our heads to get to the stage), it is then promptly carted off stage, accompanied by the unexpected question: “That’s all it’s used for. 75 quid: was it worth it?” With great one-liners, improbable situations (boys on lizards on skateboards racing), gratuitously gross moments (sharing the handicapped mastermind millionaire’s urine), and unexpected twists (the poor audience member’s unwelcome kiss), the variety of comedic approaches Riches employs are impressive. Never trite, predictable or boring, the sketches captivated our interest and prompted giggles pretty continuously for an hour. I would, however, have liked to see better characterisation: to throw one of his rebuttals back at him, it is evident he hasn’t been to drama school. Limited tonal variation was a shame (he rather expended his energy into almost-breathless and quite monotonous shouting). Ironically, however, his corpsing actually enhanced the comedy of the show: all about audience enjoyment, it was nice to see he was having a ball too.

With brilliant Edinburgh Festival reviews behind him, it’s nice to see good stuff can survive the transfer to the big bad city of London. However, Soho Theatre’s audience are more kind than some, and it would have been interesting to see the extent of his professionalism with a less receptive and game audience (would he have floundered with OAPs, for example?).

Adam Riches is playing at Soho Theatre until 17 March. For more information and tickets see the Soho Theatre website.