James Acaster’s comedy relies on exaggerated observations of minute everyday happenings. The British comedian has the ability to introduce topics that seem fairly limited – say body posture or spaghetti Bolognese – and explore them in a manner that moves away from the mundane and into the fantastical.
Reset is a brand new show. The title comes from Acaster’s assertion that given the chance we’d all like to press the reset button on life, just like you can in a game of Tetris. Narrative elements reappeared throughout the show, but that wasn’t what supplied the comedy.
Rather, this came from his light observations of things such as fundamental differences between men and women, or reflections on the non-remedied simple mistakes he makes everyday. His views weren’t in themselves groundbreaking, but Reset gained distinction by appearing ludicrous yet revolving around a not at all vibrant reality. This was aided by Acaster’s exaggerated physical mannerisms, commitment to repetition and a vocal tone suggestive of making new discoveries.
As for the narrative elements, Acaster spoke openly of having very little love for himself, and even less for his countrymen. He also made frequent reference to his plan of escape, which is to move to Kenya – if not a reset, then at least a change of scenery eh.
While an understated spectacle, Reset was furiously funny – essentially from beginning to end. The jokes weren’t obvious belters, but thanks to Acaster’s amplification of core failings or paradoxes in various facets of contemporary life, the laughs could barely be supressed.
Reset had already proven to be one of this year’s standout shows when, about three quarters of the way through, Acaster turned his focus to the audience. At this point the show sprouted another dimension of social comedy. To start the show Acaster described us as the audience he’d always been waiting for. He pointed out someone directly in front of him, labelled him “Sean”, and used this person as a springboard for banter throughout. Though, clearly the person wasn’t offering the desired responses, and Acaster made this known to all. It’s difficult to tell how much he was actually affected, but by the end of the show Acaster had singled out three more audience members and in no instance did the interaction serve to buoy his spirits.
He wasn’t trying to be nice, and didn’t hesitate to directly mock these individuals when things didn’t go his way. It could’ve become very awkward, but his negative outbursts instead illuminated how the comedian’s self-hatred doesn’t compare with his misanthropy.
BY AUGUSTUS WELBY
