Nina Conti's 'In Your Face.'

Dictionary definition:

Ventriloquism:  the expression of one's views and attitudes through another.

What do you think of when you think of ventriloquism?

• ·      Rod Hull and Emu?
• ·      Keith Harris and Orville?
• ·      Organised religion and its followers?

Well, I think Nina Conti and Monkey.

I first saw Nina Conti in 2013 on Christopher Guest’s disappointing comedy, Family Tree. Starring alongside Chris O’Dowd, Nina effectively played herself: a ventriloquist struggling to communicate without her puppet. Unbeknownst to me, Conti was by then a stand-up act of some repute, with a reputation for doing something wholly innovative with the much-maligned 'vent' form.

Family Tree suffered from being compared to its ancestors, Spinal Tap and A Mighty Wind.

Being in Edinburgh it’s easy to become bored with straight stand-up. Wanting to watch someone deviate from the norm, she seemed a good bet. By the end of the show I really felt like I was holding the winning ticket. The performance begins with a demure Nina entering to rapturous applause. She coyly curtseys the audience acknowledging their approbation. Explaining the show, she tells us that this will one be looser than normal, mainly improvised with few pre-prepared set-pieces. She is charm personified. Then, she asks if we would like to meet her friend. The audience assents. Reaching into her holdall, a Monkey appears. It’s not long before we question whether, rather than a bag, it’s Pandora’s box that’s been opened.

Because Monkey is not like Nina.

Monkey is Hyde to Nina’s Jekyll. While Nina is the cut-glass child of British ‘thesp,’ Tom Conti, Monkey is the cut-throat progeny of her disturbed psyche. She is the face of British politeness; he is the mouth of vituperative outbursts. Nina walks the stage chatting amiably to the front row, asking them friendly albeit banal questions on jobs and relationships; Monkey listens, not out of decorum, but rather out of necessity, hoping they’ll give him something to feed on. It materializes that a family are in the front row; their relation to one other so confusing Monkey cuts to the chase and harangues: “All we want to know is who is fucking who?” Next, a young gentleman with hipster top-knot is addressed; he’s a theatre critic: Nina is all milk and honey, trying to seduce the reviewers pen into a positive review; Monkey finds this play for approval unctuous and gives the pen and paper man a piece of his mind: ‘Scum!’ The fact that Nina apologises profusely for Monkey’s outbursts means the audience is lulled into doublethink where they know the abusive puppet is being pulled by its master, whilst being so absorbed they forget this is the case.

Beauty and the Beast.

Later in the show, Conti returns to the more interesting characters of the first row. Smiling demurely, she asks/insists they come on stage. Leading them to a coat stand, she rifles through her selection of masks, before selecting one she deems most suitable for the audience member. The masks are then tied around the back of their head, covering the bottom of the face, leaving only the person’s eyes free from Nina’s control. In Nina’s hand is a remote that allows her to move the mouth of the mask and turn the participant into a ventriloquist doll. It is here where Conti shows her worth: the mouth of the person can be controlled, but their body can’t, which means Conti has to laugh when they’re barrelled over or ask quick-fire questions when they seize up. Here, her mind works feverishly to build upon the crowd-work she did earlier in the show. For example, she has the critic come on to close the show, arguing with his experience he must know what a good closing routine looks like. Her benevolence and bonhomie creates a collaborative atmosphere where the audience are only too pleased to do her bidding, so when she puts the words, ‘I’m going to fly” into the critic’s mouth we’re unsurprised when the star-awarder becomes the star, flapping his hands to the cheers and whistles of the audience. It’s quite an ingenious idea to have a critic end the show: if it goes badly, they’ll only have themselves to blame.

Conti is a spontaneous treasure of British comedy; I recommend you be more pre-prepared and book to see her on tour, as tickets are sure to sell fast. I would say you would be foolish to miss out on seeing her, but I wouldn’t want to put words in your mouth. I’ll leave that to the master.

Nina Conti's tour dates can be found here: http://www.ninaconti.net/live