Colin Hoult: Enemy of the World

This new show from the restlessly creative character comic Colin Hoult, the second of a proposed trilogy, is a brilliantly singular oddity. Supported by three musicians who create a sort of ghostly German cabaret band that haunts the back of the stage, Hoult shapeshifts into numerous convincingly defined weirdos. They’re familiarly British and invariably quite sad, the concern here being with ordinary misery given a fantastical frame.

There’s insecure Nottingham hardman Len Parker, who spends his days watching Predator and writing terrible scripts for torture-porn horror films; a chap with an unrequited love for a "physically repulsive" but internally beautiful woman that he works with at the supermarket; and a recurring Yorkshireman who we see at various stages of life, constantly being bullied by a schoolmate or colleague. Hoult’s skill is such that he is able to banter entertainingly with the crowd while remaining in character, and the ghostly band occasionally roam around to get us involved in the bizarre musical interludes.

Despite the title, it’s not these characters’ evil that is emphasised, but rather their vulnerability. Hoult clearly has a great deal of sympathy for these strange, lonely figures that seem to have nothing going for them. Len's creative energy is unwavering despite his obvious lack of talent; the supermarket worker’s love for his "girlfriend" is no less strong for being so misguided; the bullied man’s final desperate act provokes pity rather than distaste. When the show takes a turn towards the metaphysical at the end, we feel Hoult has earned it. He’s crafted an unexpectedly rousing celebration of misspent lives.