Igor Meerson's comedy is Janus-faced. His show looks to the future, underlining the fact that there will be more comedians like him who travel the globe, performing in both English and their own mother tongue. However, his material looks to the past and borrows the tropes of early observational stand up.
This is clearly a transitional phase for the 31-year-old Russian, but why not complete the apprenticeship in the clubs rather than to be forced to meander through a likeable but unremarkable hour?
Starting his show with a disclaimer that he is not a political comedian, he ends it with, guess what, a discussion of politics and platitudes about how national borders are just in the minds of our leaders. Tell that to those ready to die for borders and territory.
It's a naive and by numbers ending, which you could almost forgive because Meerson is sweet and amiable. The problem is that the rest of his set is pretty much by numbers too; international greetings, how people respond to being asked how they are, stiff stereotypes of Brits and how all Italian words sound like pizzas.
To further regale his international crowd (Scots, English, Americans and one Itlian and one German) he invites three of them to play a kind of Russian Roulette drinking game where they each get a shot of what could be vodka or water. Who knows? Who cares?
It's still early days for Meerson, and way too early for a Fringe show.