Review - Mark Watson: The Information
Published: Wednesday 21st November 2012
Jay Richardson reviews Mark Watson's performance of his show 'The Information' at the Pavilion Theatre, Glasgow...
There's a markedly dystopian edge to Mark Watson's The Information, all that personal stuff splashed across the internet for others to judge you by.
Sufficiently insecure at the start of his stand-up career to perform with a contrived Welsh accent, you can't blame Watson for being wary about the digital age's habit of sharing absolutely everything. His little white lie to a taxi driver is exposed by Wikipedia, yet the online encyclopaedia is simultaneously spreading falsehoods about his religion.
In a "rocky 12 months" that also included disappointing DVD sales and the cancellation of his ITV4 sports panel show, he was scammed online and had his bank account hacked. He suffered abuse from Frankie Boyle's Twitter followers after their much publicised spat. And most crushingly of all, he lost his new home when a mortgage adviser Googled and rejected him on the grounds of his profession.
He hasn't let these travails keep him down though, assuming the stage in enterprising fashion and self-deprecating to an excitable degree. He even seems to draw masochistic stimulation from the fact he's undersold.
Some comics would have treated this annus horribilis as an opportunity for wry reflection. But Watson's socially awkward, restless anxiety lends itself to simply blurting his mistakes and humiliations, revealing too much before hastily qualifying or putting them in context.
A recurrent apology, "sorry, I probably should have started by saying..." breaks up the rhythm of several anecdotes, reversing the typical pullback and reveal. At the same time, his Tigger-ish energy and confessional impulses mitigate the sense of calculation and afford him a direct, engaging bond with the crowd.
A bizarre song he's composed, On The Bouncy Castle, introduced with the disclaimer that he wants to be Tim Minchin or Bill Bailey but absolutely isn't, has acquired topicality. And as a consequence, his unspoken distancing from Jimmy Savile generates the biggest laughs of the routine.
Still, there's little that's actually thought-provoking in what he's saying about online privacy. From the outset, his encouragement for audience members to tweet or text him secrets about friends they came with doesn't generate enough indiscretion. He half-heartedly reads a few after the interval. Yet it's as perfunctory as his prank finale, which not only seems out of character but rather tacked on, more for sustaining the theme than its potential for humour.
Between these unsatisfying bookends, there are some fine set-pieces. One, in which Watson builds a head of steam phoning a ham hotline is a standout, reminiscent of Rhod Gilbert's consumer frustrations. There's some endearing reflection on ordering multiple wineglasses for nights spent lonely in hotels. And he threatens a poignant note when he questions the sort of digital society his young son will join. But this isn't really developed and like the much of the show, feels disconnected from the rest.
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