Mark Thomas: Bravo Figaro

Making the Kitsonian leap from standup comedy to theatrical (though still funny) monologue, Mark Thomas is a performer perfectly at home on the Traverse stage. Bravo Figaro is the story of his father's love of opera, of working-class aspiration, difficult relationships, social stratification and, ultimately, love. It has its touching moments and it's really rather beautifully written, performed with warmth, sponteneity and care.

But all this has been done before. Very recently. And in very high profile.

Indeed, it was only two years ago that Russell Kane picked up the Edinburgh Comedy Award for his show Smokescreens and Castles, a show that dealt with precisely the same issues of class, social mobility, troubled father-son relationships and grief. This isn't to say Bravo Figaro is not a good show. It is, even though—given his unwillingness to fully expose the darker side of his father's character—it does seem to be holding too much back. But it just doesn't feel fresh.

Nevertheless, if you've somehow avoided similarly confessional pieces over the last few years, there is certainly plenty to recommend in Thomas's show. The breadth of emotion and his easy command of the stage betray a performer of superior quality. His stories are peppered with gentle nostalgia; his jokes—lapped up by a greying audience—pay pleasant homage to the days of industry, vinyl records and the Marxist sincerity of the 1980s performance art scene. It is a nice, enjoyable show.

But one just cannot shake the impression of having seen it all before.