Bane

Since the turn of the decade, style gurus have been adamant that the eighties are coming back with a bang. But, after the briefest of flirtations with leg-warmers and shoulder-pads, the greatest recent reflection of the twentieth century’s penultimate decade has been in the cultural and economic spheres – although the idea that the global economic downturn was a deliberate attempt by corporate bankers to be trendy is far from a mainstream theory.

As music from the likes of La Roux and Ladyhawke clog up iTunes, movies such as Sin City, The Dark Knight and Brick all bear the hallmarks of the film noir revival of the 1980s and 90s. Bane follows in this tradition. It is a fantastically daft, wondrously silly parody of the likes of Dick Tracy and The Singing Detective.

All the archetypal characters are present in this dynamic one-man show. Joe Bone is the lone-wolf, hired-gun and all-round film noir cliché, Bruce Bane.  He’s also the cackling, vengeful and—naturally—English-accented arch-villain; the mad scientist; the camp German assassin; the Mexican drug lord ­– the list goes on. Bone gives a virtuoso comic performance which betrays not only an obvious affection for the genre, but genuine talent. Meanwhile guitarist Ben Roe builds a surprisingly dramatic, yet unobtrusive, atmosphere.

There is nothing clever about Bane, nothing subtle. Its jokes can be seen coming a mile off, but, regardless, it is very, very funny. Bane has nothing to say, no morality tale, no message. But as far as escapist comic theatre goes, it is quite an accomplishment.