Kieran Hodgson: Big in Scotland review – fun show has its Dundee cake and eats it
The arrival of a new Kieran Hodgson set can’t fail to excite fringe-goers: his three nerdy, intensely funny shows in the late 2010s (on cycling, classical music and Britain’s relationship with Europe) were each rightly nominated for the Edinburgh comedy award. This year’s return is particularly mouthwatering for we north Britons, as the Yorkshireman turned soft southerner addresses Anglo-Scottish relations and his move to Glasgow, where, as an actor in the sitcom Two Doors Down, he has lived since 2020. If that sounds tailor-made to titillate Edinburgh crowds – well, Hodgson does not disappoint.
From its introduction onwards, it’s a show that delights in teasing its audiences, English and Scottish both, and in having its (Dundee) cake and eating it. In a heavy Scottish accent, Hodgson voices concerns about Englishmen aping Scottish accents. National stereotypes are undermined – but also zeroed in on for laughs, as with a fantasy musical sequence that finds immigrant Kieran welcomed tae Glesga by the kitsch music-hall star Harry Lauder. But, cheerfully wise to the shoogliness of the endeavour, Hodgson keeps both plates spinning: the dream of reinventing himself as Scottish, and the acknowledgment that “Scottish” is a complicated category.
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For all that Hodgson dismisses his earlier shows as so many “facts and figures and silly voices from years gone by”, Big in Scotland is cut from similar cloth, and has similar (minor) weaknesses. As with his (pre-)Brexit show ’75, there’s a framing device (this time about a best man’s speech gone wrong) that strives for emotional significance. It’s fun enough, but feels a bit strenuous, and manoeuvres our host towards some overdetermined learning as Big in Scotland reaches its conclusion.
Even if the effort is futile to tie up Anglo-Scottish relations in a neat, hour-long narrative knot, we’re usually laughing too hard to care. Whether he’s learning Gaelic, offending his co-stars with loose opinions on Scottish independence or ordering vegan haggis in a Highland pub, Hodgson comes armed with limitless pert observations about his new countryfolk, a diverting array of vocal caricatures and jokes within self-abasing jokes about his failure to assimilate. For a show that’s sure to be – deservedly – Big in Edinburgh, look no further.
