Omid Djalili, review: plenty of punchlines, but short on punch
Omid Djalili’s latest tour, an ode to the end of Covid lockdowns, is an enjoyable if unoriginal affair. The British-Iranian comic, who grew up in Kensington, is known for his impressive array of accents and skilful deployment of stereotypes in a way that tends to feel celebratory rather than sinister. And that arsenal is certainly on display here – he affects Iranian, Indian, Cockney, posh west London, Geordie, Glaswegian, and even Godzilla voices – while drawing mostly from a familiar wheelhouse.
Indeed, for Djalili devotees, The Good Times Tour will tick a lot of boxes. Jokes about terrorists, check. Jokes about football chants, check. Jokes about feeling “embarrassed” by his own level of poshness, check. Jokes about selling people carpets, check. The degree to which his voice oscillates between speaking and shouting, CHECK!
Djalili’s quick transitions between the accents of the different characters in his stories are matched masterfully by physical mannerisms. He is an accomplished actor after all, and some clips from his movie work, including The Mummy, Mama Mia 2, and Gladiator, do feature in the set. But, as he quips, he doesn’t really like to bring those up.
Djalili punctuates some of his longer stories, about his childhood and frustrating experiences as a creative professional during the pandemic, with a steady if sometimes cheap supply of one-liners, while peppering an energetic and lively performance with lewd dance moves.
About halfway through the show at Finchley’s Arts Depot, Djalili offered an emotional tribute to his friend and former mentor, the late Sean Lock, who died in August last year. Djalili used to open for Lock when he was starting out in comedy in the 1990s, and this departure from the rest of the gig felt necessary and poignant rather than shoe-horned in.
The Good Times Tour is not a bad night out by any means. But it is also not Djalili’s best work, and the Finchley show might have benefited from some more improvisation and interaction with the audience, something that his undercard act, the comic musician Boothby Graffoe, actually managed to do very well.
Djalili’s newer material, largely a lament of the absurdities of early Covid restrictions, could have done with more of a current update for what is ultimately a touring performance. Just the one joke about parties – which was, in fairness, very well received – felt like a missed opportunity. Toilet paper gags are so 2020.
Djalili makes the point that he is “not political”, but in the current climate, perhaps he could afford to be. While you can appreciate his not wanting to come across as too heavily partisan, when it’s open season in Westminster, why not make the most of it?
What’s more, the 56-year-old riffs on cancel culture in a weird, roundabout way. Bracing his audience by warning them that the following joke might offend them could, on the one hand, be viewed as a useful insurance policy, but it also serves as a sort of own goal. If Djalili is as aloof about cancel culture as he claims, then surely he shouldn’t feel the need to soften his own gags.
Touring until Nov 26. Tickets: omidnoagenda.com
