Max and Ivan: Televisionaries

Television has long been a source for parody. From Saturday Night Live's send-ups of blatant, sleazy advertising in the seventies to the writings of George Gilder, TV has been repeatedly ‘exposed’ as malignant, boring, or inherently ridiculous. For Max and Ivan it is something banal, a pool of images and expectations which are to be inversed and laughed at.

Their show, Televisionaries, opens with the familiar figures and lettering of the Scottish Widows’ ad campaign. The boys appear, in naked lady aprons beneath flowing black cloaks, playing horny housewives masked by the semblance of mourning. It’s ludicrous but very funny. Lines like ‘I’m going to pay my respects... to your cock!’ make little contextual sense, but are delivered with a reckless abandon which is strangely charming. The rest of the material is, however, rather hit-and-miss. A send up of Sky Sports, where a commentator follows the passage of clouds through the sky, is pedestrian. Similarly, a spoof interview with a footballer concerned with metaphysics fails to make an impression.

But what one is struck by here is the energy and zeal of the performers. In only their second year at the Fringe, the posters are emblazoned with praise and the venue is full to bursting. Their comedy – accessible, but with plenty of intelligence and irony –is near-universal. A final sketch about lads’ holidays amuses the lout and the culture vulture alike, and is representative of Max and Ivan’s mass appeal.