Omid Djalili is following a well-worn path, and it will be interesting to see how much his audience expands as a result of his recent BBC One series.
The Anglo-Iranian comic hasn’t yet found his feet on the small screen — his sketch show was stronger on the performances than on the writing — but it is hard to think of a comedian who has done as much to deserve mainstream success.
Djalili is an unfailingly intelligent satirist who juggles stereotypes without succumbing to the temptation to preach. And he has — let’s not be too portentous about it — the stage presence of a genuine clown. Even after all these years, there is something irresistibly funny about his habit of erupting into bouts of wedding party-style belly-dancing.
That said, his show in Brighton — a blend of old and new material — had a fitful air about it, even allowing for the fact that this was only the second night of the tour. He is still feeling his way, occasionally getting lost down blind alleys. To be blunt, he also seems overly pleased with himself at times, flaunting his new celebrity connections a little too readily. His ego is nowhere near as bloated as Ricky Gervais’s, thank goodness, yet a few pin-pricks wouldn’t go amiss either.
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One of the real joys of the evening lies in his ability to swing back and forth between some sophisticated reflections on class or cultural identity and some wonderfully earthy routines about, say, life on the football terraces. Djalili brings an actor’s intensity to all the various roles that he inhabits.
The overweight embodiment of multiculturalism, he toys with one mask after another. One minute he is the typically fumbling, apologetic, middle-aged Brit, the next he is another expat from Tehran, hopelessly addicted to grandiose forms of courtesy.
Topicality isn’t the strong point of the evening. The throwaway lines about Northern Rock and Steve McClaren already sound dated, and if you have already heard his thoughts on suicide bombers you won’t find much that is new here. Never mind. His gifts as a mimic are compensation enough, his Nigerian traffic warden joining the ranks of great British stereotypes.
A real-life Iranian burger bar owner provided unintentional humour earlier in the evening when he continually interrupted Ian Stone’s caustic support slot with a series of increasingly incoherent comments. Perhaps it was simply Djalili in disguise.
Whatever the truth, Stone coped manfully with his “suicide heckler” and actually came close to upstaging the star of the evening. His rambling, observational style may seem predictable on the surface, as if he had gathered most of his material on a fact-finding mission to Sainsbury’s, but his rumpled demeanour conceals a sharp mind.
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Djalili’s tour continues this week at Royal Concert Hall, Nottingham, Wed, and Fairfield Hall, Croydon, Thurs.
Full details at www.omidnoagenda.com