Review by Steve Bennett

Vir Das has to start his show by pointing out that his Indian accent is real – that it’s not a character or an impersonation of his parents.

It’s not good on us that he needs to do that; a reminder that the closest culture in the West usually gets to reflecting the diverse experiences and opinions of 1.2billion people is a comedy head-wobble.

Das could be the man to change that. He’s a warm, personable comedian with an easy command of the stage and an arsenal of observational and social material with a wide appeal.

His performance talents should come as no surprise, as he’s a sizeable star in India: Two million Twitter followers, Bollywood credits – and when he tours India in October, he’ll be playing arenas So the 50 people in a bar tonight shouldn’t faze him; although competing with music from the drag act next door is a challenge you don’t get in 10,000-seaters.

The Indians in the crowd – crowd! – are pumped to see him, one woman hollering with delight at almost anything. Android operating system! Woo! And there’s a pantomime intake of breath from her vocal group of friends whenever he says anything a bit edgy – an acknowledgement that maybe they should take offence, but are not going to. Das presses a few buttons to be cheeky, but it’s generally pretty mainstream.

He also encourages such audience feedback, enjoying the to-and-fro of interaction. The premise of the show is that he’s going to make a number of statements about himself that the audience must decide whether they are true or false. Thus personal anecdotes are interwoven with broader musings. There are some easy jokes in the set that cheapen it – a bit about weddings sniggering about the double entendre of ‘forever hold your peace’, for instance, but when he gets more authentically anecdotal, the material shines.

Much of it comes from familiar starting points, but given a twist. Drinking tales are nothing new, but the story of how Das doesn’t indulge any more after coming to in a very unusual situation is certainly unique. Or at least you’d hope it was.

As expected he contrasts the West with his homeland - but forget big differences; it’s breakfast that floors him. Religion’s a touchstone, too. He’s a Hindu but loves a good Christmas, leading to a great routine about Jesus returning to Earth as, for some reason, a posh Englishman.

There’s plenty on the differences between men and women, too, his background only sometimes giving it a fresh angle – such as the sketch of helping a woman slip out of her sari for that intimate moment.

But when it’s personal, he proves a great storyteller, reliving his awkward first kiss before sharing a tale of romantic betrayal. Acting out mini-scenes adds to his dynamic stage presence – no grand gestures but done just right. It’s here you know he’s a consummate pro, giving arena-quality craft to a fringe-sized room. Only one trick did seem a little forced, an ‘improvised’ accent ‘accidentally’ drifting into another just too familiar a trope to seem as spontaneous as he’d have it.

This was only his second night inEdinburgh, doing a late-night warm-up slot before moving to 9pm prime time, and he might want to consider a couple of cultural references that seemed slightly off. Not because they were too Indian but because there were too American, especially a routine on gun control. And while white Brits might not be able to tell the difference between Indians, Pakistanis and Bangladeshis, we probably wouldn’t mistake any of them for Arabs.

Quibbles aside, the charismatic Das is here with an assured show . He surely doesn’t need British success, but we can only benefit from having one of the subcontinent’s best comics play here.

Review date: 21 Aug 2016
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Gilded Balloon Teviot