In some ways, Owen McCafferty’s play revisits the territory of Trevor Griffiths’ 1975 classic Comedians. But where Griffiths showed a whole group of trainee comedians before, during and after their tryout gig, McCafferty deals with one wannabe funny man only, and centres on four individual gigs from “shithole” to arena. The central pressure is the same: how far to compromise for success. However, McCafferty’s three-handed structure – comedian Steve Johnston, his girlfriend and candid adviser Maggie and his new agent Doug – makes for a much simpler dynamic. It’s difficult to avoid the recollection of Doctor Faustus with his Good and Evil Angels whispering into each ear.

Brian Doherty, under Soho supremo Steve Marmion’s direction, gives a fine, detailed performance as Steve. From gig to gig, not only the cadence patterns of his delivery change as he gradually jettisons political and social references and retreats into “observational” material and plain lies, but his very accent shifts from identifiably Irish to a regionless, classless blare. Katie McGuinness gives firm support as Maggie, but it’s always clear that she will at some point fade into the background, leaving Steve to deal alone with the temptations offered by Shaun Dingwall’s motormouthed Doug… who never gives instructions, merely invites Steve to think about various points and relies on his insecurity and ambition to do the rest.

McCafferty is artist in residence at the Lyric Theatre in Belfast, and this marks the first ever cross-Irish-border co-production between the Lyric and Dublin’s Abbey, along with Soho itself. About a year ago Soho hosted the Abbey’s production of McCafferty’s pared-down, intense Troubles memory drama Quietly. Alas, neither the writing nor the performance of Death Of A Comedian can match that work’s pressure-cooker power. Compromise-for-success and Faustian temptation are not exactly neglected themes, and the use of stand-up comedy as an environment does relatively little to freshen them up. The comic material is fairly up to date (although even here McCafferty exaggerates by implying that a 2015 mainstream British comedy audience would be alienated by a single F-bomb), but overall – notwithstanding a final moment of tension which may be real or imagined – it’s a disappointingly simplistic treatment.
  
Written for the Financial Times.