Hamell On Trial - The Terrorism (Of Everyday Life)
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Ed Hamell's life has been flashing before his eyes since he suffered a near-fatal car crash at the turn of the century, after which he reconstructed himself as a motor-mouthed, comedic, acoustic, punk-metal one-man band. The Terrorism of Everyday Life tackles his story chronologically, starting in 1964 with the Beatles arriving in the US, when he was aged 10; this is an explosive biographical hour.
Loaded with finely honed anecdotes punctuated by machine-gun bursts of relevant songs, Hamell unerringly hits the target. His only musical weapon is a 1937 acoustic Gibson guitar, eulogised in the bittersweet paen to hire-purchase agreement, Three Ships.
We are transported to the gents' toilet in the Knitting Factory in New York City, which doubled as a changing room when he was previewing this show earlier in the year; we share in the tale of a homophobe who overcame his prejudice to get high on the ashes of a friend of a friend who died from Aids; and there's a deathbed scene funnier than a whole series of Six Feet Under. His spoof commercial for a fast-food joint - The Trough - would be light relief were it not such a vicious indictment of western dietary habits, while the whole room singing "**** it" could well be the most cathartic experience for a Fringe audience.
Pathos without sentiment and comment without compromise. This is a performer at his peak.
8 August 2007
