The word "gangling" was invented for Ben Moor; his body seems to be made entirely of elbows. His mind, too, lurches at odd tangents; this scripted, sketch-based solo outing encompasses a tour through hell, time-paradoxes, the worldwide breakdown of logic and causality, and a short film about toast. Moor seems to take a while to get into his stride (or rather, his lope); in fact he is sewing a series of running gags which noodle back ever more daftly at unexpected intervals. (I thought I'd never laugh at "Bohemian Rhapsody" again before this show). Clever (though not clever-clever) and frenetically loopy, Moor is a comedy natural.
Written for The Independent.
Copyright © Ian Shuttleworth; all rights reserved.
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