Surreal, intelligent, and daring comedy
Paul Foot is perhaps most well-known for livening up panel shows with his unique brand of angry surrealism. But to his fans – his connoisseurs, as Paul refers to them – he is better known for well-crafted routines using intelligent rage to lampoon the modern world. In Dissolve, this inimitable style is brought to bear on a more personal topic, exploring Paul’s crippling, long-term depression, and the day it suddenly lifted. The resulting set is a thoroughly entertaining exploration of mental health and the absurdities of contemporary life, striking a compelling balance between empathy and humour.
At the heart of Dissolve is a search for “causes” – what led to Foot’s depression, and what triggered his sudden escape? This takes in myriad topics, from traditional stand-up fare like childhood anecdotes and skewering the frustrations of modern man, to providing insights into being seriously mentally unwell. Whilst some routines start off a little by-the-numbers – mental health arguably being the most common theme of the last few Edinburgh Festivals – they all end up refracting through Paul’s unique mind: a safe routine about people who don’t like change careens off into listing 17th and 18th century inventions, and berating the audience for not being more excited by them.
There is also plenty of space for absurdity. Only Paul Foot would open a stand-up show as a disembodied voice, narrating an extended metaphor (every show has to have one!) about a bird climbing a tree – before storming into the audience, screaming about how much he hates his own story. This confronting, bizarre opening establishes an anything-can-happen excitement that Dissolve absolutely delivers on.
Amplifying this surrealism is the pace Paul whiplashes from jokes into serious descriptions of struggle: at one point interrupting mid-sentence to disclose something he accurately describes as “harrowing”. It’s testament to Paul’s charisma that within a few words the audience goes from chuckling away to rapt silence, hanging off his every word. A particularly powerful analysis likens depression to living in a glass box, watching somebody else’s life play out in front of you.
At its heart, this is still a comedy show. A particularly strong routine imagines rebuilding society from first principles, and which elements of the modern era we might keep. This is worth the ticket price alone: innovative, and dripping with irony, Paul takes in topics ranging from golf and the House of Lords, to organised religion and gender culture wars. Foot excels here, strutting about the stage with a rabid energy and delivering unflinching, challenging material. Some of the more traditionally observational humour (the sort of person who reads the Daily Mail) is less exciting by comparison, but the audience is never too far from an emotional revelation driving the show forward.
Stand-up about trauma and mental health is incredibly fashionable right now, but less so material about what happens when these struggles evaporate. It is clear Dissolve is a response to this recent proliferation, and a very funny one at that. This is Paul Foot at his best: delightfully surreal on the one hand, and rich with insightful analysis on the other. For fans of his, this is a must-see; for everyone else, Dissolve is a compelling introduction to the utterly mad world of Paul Foot.