It’s fair to say that you may as well put a sofa on a stage as big as the Pleasance Grand. The Horne Section is the kind of show where you get the impression that, despite the complexity of the onstage big band set-up, any potential joke is bought into the realms of the possible. Alex Horne’s naturally warm hosting style, the propulsive force of the band and the giddily shambolic fun of their inter-act games was brilliantly complemented by the diverse range of the guest acts on the night I saw it. With this kind of group synergy, The Horne Section has the traditional warmth of a vaudevillian variety show, combined with the thrill of seeing some of the best current comics going.
What makes the band such a joy to watch is the perfect pitching of their routines between accessible, professionally executed entertainment and a delirious kind of shambolic charm that emerges from their chemistry together. Whether extolling the virtue of beards or rollicking though an audience-suggested Latin version of Batman, there’s such a sense of fun onstage between the band members that you feel jealous at being unable to join in. Though the level of audience participation involved in a venue this size brings you as near as you can.
The four comics on show tonight brilliantly add to the variety show atmosphere. Hannibal Buress’ deadpan drawl and seductively slow delivery intertwine perfectly with a jazz backing – at one brilliant point, he notes that he’d rather not speak, but just sit back, laugh and listen. Otto Kuhnle completely warps the mood with his lo-fi clowning that fits perfectly with the band’s ‘generation game’ style backing. At times it feels like watching a deliciously nightmarish, parallel-universe version of a light entertainment show. Kai Humphries provided some of the most underwhelming moment of the night, but his set rose to a great ending befitting of the show’s tone, as he attempts to solve a Rubik’s cube whilst telling as many knob-gags he could think of in a time limit. Finally, Tim Vine stole the show with a devastating stream of puns and one liners. Seeing him running around the stage like an excited child, strumming a guitar (badly) in an attempt to play along with the band was one particular highlight in a perfect collaboration between comedian and house band. It all seems to summon up an imaginary 70s talk show funnier than anything that may have existed in actuality.
This show is quite simply one of the best late-night comedy showcase you can find on the Fringe – a whirlwind of breathtaking invention, heaps of fun and a sense that the audience are part of a dreamlike comedy happening.
