There was a point, about halfway through Dylan Moran’s latest stand-up DVD ‘Yeah, Yeah’, where it suddenly came to me in glorious Technicolour that it’s impossible to find a comedian funny unless you’re entirely on his side.
I don’t mean that people can’t be won over by a stand-up they had previously dismissed; the funny bone is not the most consistent of props, after all. Admittedly, you’d be unlikely to ever find me laughing at Lee Evans, Michael McIntyre or Ronni Ancona, but it wasn’t long before the previously perplexing Mitchell and Webb got a giggle out of me, and Sean Lock’s hilarious turn on Ideal has earned him a free pass, at least for the time being. No, in this instance I’m hypothesising that you have to be able to see where the comedian’s coming from before you can laugh with him. There has to be, at the very least, a suspension of disbelief: a willingness to accept the persona and circumstances the comedian’s weaving jokes from. Without that shared ground, there can be no laughter.
I started ‘Yeah, Yeah’ as a fully paid-up member of the Dylan Moran stalkers’ union, but by the mid-point I was beginning to question my devotion, and by the end, I was sadly turning in my Bernard Black wig (ok, my hair) and enquiring whether there were any seats left on the Tommy Tiernan bandwagon. And it’s because I’m no longer on the same page as Dylan Moran. Or even the same chapter. He cannot even coax me off the front cover.
This makes me sad.
The first half of ‘Yeah, Yeah’ showcases the Moran we know and love: off-kilter, often surreal verbosity, half delivered like a monologue from a newly-conscious Rip Van Winkle, half like the ramblings of a philosopher who’s seen the future and found it Guinness-pickled. You get his customary political and social satire, as fondly despairing as the Irish Mammies he’s so brilliantly lampooned in the past. You get his hilariously bleak evaluation of the mundanity of everyday life, his sharp appraisal of actions and reactions both customary and ludicrous. But it’s in the predictable segue to notes on family life, marriage and children that Moran began to lose me. It’s suddenly as if he’s playing a character he couldn’t be bothered hiring the appropriate costume for. He bemoans his middle age, how fat he’s getting, how uncool he is, how he’s suddenly concerned with mortality, all while still twinkling on stage as Dylan Moran, who’s only just turned forty, who’s clearly fit as a fiddle, and who is still considered one of the world’s irredeemably cool comics. This sudden swing to mourning domesticity and loss of youthful vigour fits him, not like a glove, but like a Yeti’s sock: we know it doesn’t belong to him, because it just won’t stay on.
Not only that, but an enthusiastic adoption of the old Woman=Venus/Man=Mars thing is certainly not good enough from a comedian of Moran’s unquestionable talent. There’s even a gag about how the world’s women would easily and quickly solve the issue of inequality if they’d only stop bitching about one another, a joke so lazy and clichéd you can barely believe it’s coming out of his mouth. Now, the subject of relationships is not a new one for Moran – he’s long joked about the baffling displays of modern courtship and the decline in patience and respect inherent in long-term relationships – what is new is this formulaic whinging. I was, honest to God, expecting him to break out the mother-in-law jokes next.
It used to be that Dylan Moran was the most cerebral of Ireland’s big comedians, a high-brow alternative to Tommy Tiernan’s engaging lunacy or Jimeoin’s gentle observational comedy. One would wonder now whether he’s regressing, and whether it’s economically motivated. Trying to dumb himself down for a larger audience? Because half of the points on ‘Yeah, Yeah’ wouldn’t be out of place coming from Brendan Grace.
I did wonder whether I was the problem. Had the couple of years break since ‘What It Is’ – during which I’ve been seduced and entirely won over by Stewart Lee – spoiled me? Is it that I’ve outgrown Dylan Moran? And you know what, I don’t think so. I still believe that Moran’s a fantastic comedian. I don’t believe in the dismayed, confused and prematurely aging persona on stage during ‘Yeah, Yeah’, though. And if I don’t believe in him, how the hell can I laugh at him?
In short? Recommended if you’re new to Moran, and if gags on how women secretly hate men and how men can’t ever grow up tickle you. But if you’re a Moran fan for his sardonic haughtiness, approach with extreme caution.
Exactly! I went to see him at Vicar Street a few months ago and I was horribly disappointed. Quite apart from the fact it was the shortest comedy show in history with no support act and the headliner barely spending an hour on stage, I just didn’t laugh that much. I kinda thought it was me because obviously I’m not married or childed so I thought maybe I was just bored by jokes I had no connection with but actually, I love Dara O’Briain’s stuff on going to the pre-natal class and all that so you’re right - it’s just that his current material doesn’t fit him. Stop pretending you’re not cool, Dylan, you are cool! I think he adjusted his persona to suit his age without realising that genius doesn’t age, the poor lamb.
That’s a real shame. I’ve always really enjoyed Dylan Moran’s comedy. He has a unique style and (usually) an unusual and oblique perspective on topics that keeps his material fresh and original. It sounds like he’s gone for the easy laughs here. Lazy comedy is mostly inexcusable, especially so in someone so clearly capable of brilliance, but maybe he needs the money coming up to Christimas, and constantly coming up with new material is really hard, especially if you’re doing it without the benefit of writers.
On a lighter note, I recently made contact with a (very) old university housemate, who informed me that another of our number is “writing jokes for Lee Evans”! Now there’s a job that won’t affect your benefit claims.