by Steve Bennett

The name might not mean all that in Britain, but Wayne Brady enjoys a decent level of success in the States, largely for being a regular on Whose Line Is It Anyway?

He’s in London because a new primetime improv series for the ABC network, Trust Us With Your Life, is inexplicably being filmed in the UK. And while he’s here, why not squeeze in an appearance at the Leicester Square Theatre, fast becoming a drop-in centre for visiting American comics?

Improv’s normally a team sport, and for his first show in Britain, Brady gets support from wingman Jonathan Mangum, who might have reason to be miffed not to have his name on the marquee, too. He certainly does his share of the work, but he can’t have too many complaints as they’ve worked together for around 20 years, giving them an instinctual rapport.

Mangum, sounding like Chandler from Friends delivering a motivational sales speech, primes the crowd and explaining the concept of improv, and soliciting the necessary suggestions for the first game – random words Brady must incorporate into a rap, the subject of which is also unprepared. And boy, does he do it well. Irish outfit Abandoman might be good at this sort of thing, but Brady is great, hitting the rhymes with skill and wit.

Much of the remaining show comprises familiar improv games, such as a lecture being given one word at a time – in this case about jellyfish – or ‘new choice’ when the improv is sporadically stopped to force the comedians to rethink their last sentence. The exercises are executed slickly, proving both Brady and Mangum as flash-thinking comics, incredibly quick on their feet.

In fact, perhaps the show is a little too slick, as there’s rarely any sense that they are struggling for a line, a technique which can provide laughs when judged well (though when overused, as is so often the case with less experienced exponents, the result is shabby and amateurish). These two make it look effortlessly easy.

There are a couple of lulls. The scene played out as if on DVD, sped forward and backwards, seemed fruitless, since it depended on obvious physical shenanigans rather than their verbal dexterity; and the scene repeated in various film and theatre styles outstayed its welcome, even though they only attempted a small fraction of the dozens of suggestions they encouraged.

Drawing suggestions from audience members’ real jobs produces the usual tranche of accountants, IT project managers and other desk jockeys - how much more fun improv must have been when people had proper jobs! Yet when volunteers were plucked from the stalls, they certainly came alive, providing either sound effects or standing in for props. To a man, they loved their moment in the spotlight, providing more unpredictability for Brady and Mangum to bounce off, and enthusiasm and energy for the rest of the crowd.

The clear highlight of the show, however, was the final, musical round. Brady’s one mean singer – later revealing to those of us not in the know that he’s a recording artist, too – and improvised fresh songs in the styles of Elvis, the Rollling Stones, MC Hammer, Justin Timberlake, Prince and, erm, Creed (sorry, Wayne, we never got them here). This is a tour-de-force section, not least because of his attitude-filled rap putdown directed at the punter who had such disrespect by suggesting the song title Mrs Brady Swallows.

The Prince number would have been the end had a rapturous ovation not brought the crew back out on stage, in what was, refreshingly, appeared to be a genuinely unexpected encore in which Brady, after some faffing, decided to sing a Stevie Wonder song he covered on his last album. It proved a sincere finale, if not quite in keeping with the rest of the night in which Brady conclusively showed off his improv dexterity and sharp comic mind.

Published: 27 Oct 2011