By donning an oversized papier-mache head, Sam Eley creates a persona that is so much more than just a grumpy old man. Basil Crumbwick is a perfect example of how not to behave, but his foul-mouthed ramblings are absolutely hilarious. Rating
Excellent
It’s 10:15pm and there’s a surreal atmosphere at the Soho Theatre. A deep green light hangs over the audience and what sounds like music from a children’s video game is playing on a loop. We know to expect something strange, but nothing can quite prepare us for comedian Sam Eley’s latest creation.
In walks Basil Crumbwick, dressed in tracksuit bottoms and a white vest. His defining feature is his giant, wrinkled papier-mâché head! There’s a narrow hole in it so we can see Eley’s mouth. While it’s perfectly horrifying to watch him try to drink, this feature ensures we never lose the human bond that is so integral to stand-up comedy. Crumbwick’s painted-on eyes have an oddly similar effect. They face in ever-so-slightly opposing directions, watching the entire audience and luring in some keen front row hecklers.
Eley’s skill for subversion is phenomenal. One simply does not know what is going to come out of his/Crumbwick’s mouth at any time. It helps that his voice sounds so innocent. At times, it’s reminiscent of Wallace from Wallace and Gromit. But the filth he delivers would swiftly put Aardman out of business. This disparity allows Eley to get away with several risky jokes.
The show’s subject matter contains Sylvia Plath, the Playboy mansion and 45 copies of Mein Kampf (purchased to “impress the bin man”). It’s not your conventional recipe for giggles. But the Crumbwick routine is so absurd that the audience find themselves laughing at things they’d normally be appalled by: “Depression is gay, but suicide is even more gay!” Crumbwick chimes in his high-pitched whimsy.
Crumbwick is like a grumpy, drugged-up Count Binface. The principle between the two cult figures is the same. In both cases, we’re presented with a bonkers caricature who helps to expose our equally farcical reality. It doesn’t lead to deep reflection, but this show with its deliberately pointless tangents is undeniably good fun!
There’s a tendency for a lot of male comics to try to be the down-to-earth everyman. I find it more interesting to be offered something weird and unique. We can still easily appreciate the humour, but Eley adds a fearlessness that makes his act even more enticing. His Crumbwick character produces a kind of aging frustration that would keep everyone at his local walking on eggshells around him. That is, they would be if Crumbwick hadn’t already been “banned from all 73 pubs in Peterborough”.
The poster describes Crumbwick as a “horrid bloke” and that description is pretty much spot on. He’s certainly cruel and vile-mannered. Yet it’s a vileness we can enjoy. It seems Eley’s initial influence is not so much the overt dinghy-slashing crowd, but the misguided and, dare I say, lonely old men who see the world through the very distorted reflection in their pint glasses and social media screens. There are moments where we almost feel sorry for Crumbwick, but Eley ensures our sympathy is short-lived. If you’re looking for some late-night comic escapism, the delightfully awful Basil Crumbwick could well be your man!
Written by Sam Eley
Presented by Bighead Comedy
Sam Eley is Basil Crumbwick: Soul Sewage is playing at the Soho Theatre Upstairs until Saturday 17 October, and is back at the same venue between Monday 25 to Saturday 30 January.
