Craig Campbell

Exploding onto the stage, high-fiving as he goes, Craig Campbell is a far cry from the urbane, neurotic comedian types found elsewhere. Clad in shorts and boots with individual toes, and with all that hair, he resembles a shaved saasquatch. Indeed, he plays up his image as a bushy Canadian outdoorsman. His set is packed with stories about climbing mountains, ordering lumber and mugging muggers. It’s a bracing change from the dinner party angst peddled by other comedians, even if it’s not intrinsically funnier.

Campbell generally gives the impression of a man in control of his environment. His transatlantic professionalism, perfected across many years at the Fringe, effortlessly wins over the room. Much of his material is designed to flatter an Edinburgh audience, full of anecdotes about Scottish accents and binge drinking. There is some solid observational material and the occasional nicely turned phrase, but his appeal is mostly a matter of energy and slickness. That said, whereas his chatting with the front row is assured, it doesn't generate too many laughs tonight.

Also, while frequently reducing the audience to hysterics , none of Campbell’s routines are particularly memorable. A final, shocking story shows he could have handled a more challenging but ultimately more rewarding approach. Nevertheless, this is a thoroughly enjoyable, tightly delivered show, exactly as you would expect from a comedian of Campbell’s experience. You just somewhat wish he would venture more off the beaten track.