Review by Jay Richardson

Broad in every sense, this greatest hits compilation of sketches from a group of US comedy actresses is so in your face, right on and feminist that it veers dangerously close to self-parody.

With energy and slick production values, not to mention the impressive singing voice of co-writer and co-director Katie Goodman, you can appreciate why the collective’ videos have attracted hundreds of thousands of views on You Tube. Unfortunately, once you get beyond attention grabbing titles like Saving My Hymen For Jesus or The United States Extreme Right-Wing Cheerleading Squad, the writing rarely justifies the execution.

This material might be a succes de scandale in America, but in the liberal arts realm of the Edinburgh Fringe it seems underdeveloped and even a little twee. A parallel universe where lesbians fret about the heterosexuals next door? Oh, the satire. Any jokes beyond the concept itself? No, that’s your lot.

Initially sung by Goodman, then filled out by the ensemble of Carolann Dipirro, Shelly Hacco, Joan Jankowski and Erin Roberg, the opening number I Didn’t Fuck It Up promises more – a vague accusation that They have fucked things up, You might be one of Them, but We are going to do something to Unfuck it. A comment on The Left’s indistinct objectives and lack of organisation perhaps? The ambivalence is compelling but sadly, not to be repeated.

Attacking Woody Allen’s sexual politics is a bold move, but a feminist revision of the ejaculation scene from Everything You Always Wanted To Know About Sex, right down to the sperm costumes, finds the egg in control, rejecting her boorish suitors after surveying their CVs. Fair enough. But what I would have given for a solitary Allen bon mot in place of the series of soul-crushing puns that followed.

The one-joke note continues in a hip-hop song about the G-spot: ‘Yo G, where you at?’ Sorry to spoil, but it’s the chorus. And the Broads can’t even muster that hit rate when Hacco plays a clingy girlfriend or the cheerleaders spout right-wing views.  A song about multitasking briefly amuses when Goodman suggests she’s going to attempt to write another song while performing. But a heartfelt appeal for George Bush, Dick Cheney and the Republican Party to leave our lives blithely ignores the fact that ostensibly at least, that battle has been won.

The Vagina Monologues is conceivably a touchstone for this production and Roberg appears in a giant, multi-folded costume, a smaller vagina on her arm as a ventriloquist’s dummy. Reeling off hoary old gynaecologist gags, I’m sure there was a worthy point to this polemic but it bored me to misogyny.

That men are largely conspicuous by their absence, even in passing allusion, is no great problem. Nevertheless, it’s difficult to escape the feeling that this feminist sketch comedy sets the course of female comedy back a couple of years.  

Review date: 21 Aug 2010
Reviewed by: Jay Richardson