The Noise Next Door: Soundhouse

Few mainstays of Fringe comedy are more difficult, or divisive, than improv. In order to pull it off with any degree of success, the comedians in question require lightning-fast imagination, a vast frame of reference and an immediate sympathy with the audience who provide each initial inspiration. Much of the time, this can seem like a lot of work for a minimal return: the jokes may be extremely patchy, but we're nevertheless impressed by the ability of the performers to conceive them in seconds, then execute them in the same.

Such is the case of with The Noise Next Door. Taking the form of an intentionally disastrous variety revue, staffed by a motley collection of gurning grotesques, Soundhouse takes the classic approach of inviting suggestions from the audience for almost every aspect of each new act, then acting on those prompts almost immediately. The five-man crew never falter or allow for silence, turning one-word ideas into fully-formed characters, dance routines and sketches, and soon the cast is transformed into a sardine-obsessed security guard, a half-tiger waitress and a chloroform-using chef.

The humour is as fast-paced as it gets, the quintet seizing upon gags as soon as they occur. This mostly succeeds, with some exceptions: as a groan-inducing foray in 'Chinese' mannerisms demonstrates, ethnic stereotypes should be avoided at all costs, no matter what the audience yells. Still, for those who want to make their entertainers sweat, Soundhouse is a considerable feat.