Many talented but flawed comedy artists have tried and failed to become international stars. Therefore, I am relieved and pleasantly surprised to hear that high on the agenda of The Fallen Angels is a tour of Wales. They’ll go far. To Holyhead at least, I should think.
Cracking Wales should be all in a days work for The Fallen Angels, such is their ability to see the good in even the most unsavoury of places. Their new show, about to be unleashed on the Dublin Fringe audience in the Spiegeltent in September, is entitled “Dirty Rotten Cabaret”.
This, of course, is less a title than a manifesto for this team of actor-writer-comedians. Last year, their Spiegeltent show was a huge critical success. It was a defining moment in their development, a confident step into a wider theatrical world.
In their first incarnation, The Fallen Angels relied heavily on guest artists, among them Jack L & Camille O’Sullivan. However, their strength clearly lay in their wealth of writing and acting talent.
At the centre of the action is ‘dark mistress’ Rose Lawless (aka comedian Anne Lillis). She is both entertaining and a little frightening. It is hard to tell which the punters love more.
Alongside her are Robert Murtagh (the Angels’ musical maestro), Anna Fox, Allison McKay, Kathleen O’Rourke and John Moynes. The latest addition to the ranks, Moynes is visibly enthused and animated by the immediacy and edginess of writing and performing with The Fallen Angels.
Their shows, he says, are “a celebration of the creative spirit, a carnival of quirkiness and wickedness, a cabaret circus of the fabulous”.
Moynes has a background in children’s television (including a recent stint on RTE’s Sattitude). Injecting a bit of edge into kid’s TV is a noble pursuit, don’t get me wrong. But John clearly relishes life on the dark side with The Fallen Angels.
Writing comedy is a huge departure from kids television, he says – “We get away with harsh humour”. He cites the example of a sketch which is essentially a fashion show about cancer.
Among the other members of the ensemble are actresses Anna Fox and Alison McKay. The latter will be familiar to regular comedy club attendees in the capital from her comic character work on the upturned beer crates of the sub-circuit.
Even dressed in mufti, Anna Fox is long lean and vampy, folding herself into the couch beside you and purring her way through the interview with unbridled restraint.
Her ‘Kitty Kat’ stage character (PVC, lewd songs, feline) seems not to be a huge departure from reality. This, perhaps, is because, as well as being part of the Angels cavalcade, the character forms a significant part of Anna’s forthcoming solo project at The Focus – Tramps And Vamps.
About Dirty Rotten Cabaret she is clear, focussed and on message. “We want to give [the audience] a night out. Not just for theatre people,” she says. “The show crosses a lot of boundaries – it’s political, it’s clever, it’s musical.” And, of course, it’s filthy.
McKay, in contrast, is a bundle of energy. Her characters are a riff on several archetypes – the bold nun, the Irish meta-mammy – and include some that are less obvious, until she presents you with them. Personally I enjoy her angry, punky, not-young-anymore woman who rages against the injustices post-Tiger Ireland has brought. She can’t get hit by a bus in Grafton Street anymore; she was forced to embezzle money from the wheelchair association to get her degree. Hilarious!
This is not a show where you go and sit in the dark. Rose Lawless has a habit of drawing the audience into the action. Generally, The Angels assure me, this is all done with gusto, with the audience well immersed in the spirit of things by the time it happens.
Only once, in Limerick, did this terrorism evince a complete freak out. Shocked and silent, the volunteer had to be gently rehabilitated into his seat. But he’s the exception. Usually the audience are an enthusiastic element of the shows. The Angels’ habitual blurring of lines extends to the after-show drinks. They so enjoyed the experience of individuals joining them accidentally after the show in the bar that they have institutionalised it and now tell the audience where they are going for the scoops and invite them along for the ride. And they mean it, too.
This, then, is the means by which Ireland, in an unprecedented act of intra-Celtic political and theatrical subversion, will infiltrate the Welsh valleys and conquer the Welsh hills. Best catch them in The Spiegeltent on September 14th at 9pm during the Dublin Fringe, while you can still pronounce the name of the town they are playing in. Revenge for Max Boyce has been a long time coming, but is not the less filthy and satisfying for all that.