Review: KIERAN HODGSON: '75, Soho Theatre

Has it come to this? The legacy of the satire boom that began half a century or more ago just two streets away, the genre that gave us Private Eye, The Secret Policeman's Ball and Spitting Image is now in the hands of the likes of this man?

Half of me thought that. And the other half delighted in the generosity, charm and wit of Kieran Hodgson, whose Edinburgh show, Kieran Hodgson: '75 is on tour until May.

Though it looks like stand up, the show is really a monologue, framed (cunningly, very cunningly) around Kieran's falling out with his Yorkshire mum over her Referendum vote to leave - a scenario that is perfectly plausible for us over-educated Northern types now living, hipsterishly, in that London.

We start with some fairly standard observational comedy about growing up as a bit of a misfit (did any comedian not?), but the show really takes off when Kieran takes us into his research on the question (to quote David Byrne) "Well, how did I get here?"

Three elements impress, none individually unique, but very rare to see coming together in a single show.

Kieran (it's almost impossible to call him Hodgson if you've seen his work) has done the hard yards. He has read the books and sifted the details to get to the heart of the Europe Question, both politically and comedically. I would have enjoyed smartarsedly noting a mis-step or two (I was "there" for some of the 70s stuff and I've read a few diaries and books myself thank you very much) but not once did Kieran get a fact (nor a tone) wrong. Obviously, Oxford did a fine job.

Secondly, Kieran is a gifted mimic, his Mrs Thatcher as good as Steve Nallon's benchmark, his Barbara Castle a Proustian rush and his John Bercow simply magnificent, well worth the rare anachronistic moment. He's at his best in a touching scene as a Woosterish Ted Heath at war, utterly plausible, heartrendingly poignant and completely hilarious - five minutes worth the price of the ticket alone.

Which leads to the third element, one that runs through the show like the whiff of stale tobacco runs through your senses whenever you see Nigel Farage on Question Time yet again. In the national convulsion that Brexit has become, there is none of the with and charm for which Britain is renowned. People scream in each other's faces (those who haven't stopped communicating altogether) and grown men (and some women) boil with playgroundish anger, not just failing to control such atavistic animus but rejoicing in it. For shame Britain, for shame.

Kieran takes us back to gentler days, to debates that were held between men (almost always men) speaking slowly and thinking hard. He takes us back to the 1975 Referendum, to Harold Wilson (another clever-clogs son of Huddersfield) and his compromise that squared the circle represented by Anthony Wedgwood-Benn and Enoch Powell (Leavers citing the democratic deficit) and Roy Jenkins and Ted Heath's (Remainers, informed by the lessons of war and a future of shared trade, culture and cuisine).

Kieran leaves us with a message that The Beatles once sang (they're in the show too) - All You Need Is Love - and a sobering dose of perspective. I might add a little of my own here too - you don't even need Love, you just need empath. Now that's a psychologically demanding task for some to display, especially if you have to season it with a dash of humility and it should never be seen as easy.

But, as we find out in this lovely show, it's happened before - and it might happen again.

Kieran Hodgson: '75 is at Soho Theatre until 2 February.

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