Ex-Comedy award champ Adam Riches is notorious for his ultra-participative character comedy shows: compelling hands-on, dignity-off involvement from (usually male) audience members.
His new show Coach Coach is something of a departure: it’s a spoof sports movie starring a cast of fellow standups. Audience interaction is low in the mix – until the end, when you realise the show (and indeed Riches’ career) has all been building up to the most profound piece of audience participation he has ever created.
It’s also – if he or she gets it right – the greatest gift to a front-row punter likely to be given this fringe.
The generosity on Riches’ part extends to self-sacrifice throughout the rest of the show. As grizzled, gum-chewing Eric Coach, who teaches Volfsball (basketball, basically) to inept high-school students, his wings are clipped and audience interaction is minimal.
There are periods when the show seems uncertain of its identity – is it a vehicle for silliness, or is it a story that Riches wants us to care about? It’s mainly the former, as teenage werewolf Willy is drafted into the hapless Queen Dome Centaurs, who are seeking to win their first Yakult Cup.
There are nice comic touches, like Coach’s wife’s movable pregnancy bump or gormless sports dork Memphis Alabaster’s two left hands. There’s an underpowered romance between Willy (David Elms) and Coach’s daughter (Massive Dad’s Liz Smith): “I like you, Wolf. Is that a crime?” / “Not after my next birthday, it isn’t.”
But the action, which is diverting, only becomes compelling when the big match dawns. Suddenly, Riches is off the leash, free to savour the unpredictable nature of live sport on stage. “Don’t you worry,” he tells us, reading our minds, “at some point, somebody will score and we’ll have a narrative on our hands.”
The finale is memorable and the show is an enjoyably makeshift homage to the redemptive cliches of Hollywood sport movies.
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