SCOTT CAPURRO ISLAMOHOMOPHOBIA: RELOADED
by Paul F Cockburn
on 4th August 2014
Age hasn’t softened Scott Capurro; nor, it has to be said, has marriage. That said, you do get the sense that a part of him still can’t quite believe that, as an openly gay man, that bastion of civilisation is now a legal option for him—not just in the UK (well, technically England; Scotland’s legislation will not really kick in till early next year, fact fans) but in parts of the US too.
When Capurro is on form—as he was tonight—he’s an undoubted masterclass in audience interaction
As a relatively newly-wed, it’s hardly surprising that Capurro talks quite a lot about his husband—a big dark Brazilian, apparently. But before you worry it’s not in a cute, cuddly sort of way. Capurro is still the kind of comedian who wants us to feel bad about what we’re laughing at; and he’ll keep riffing on a particular routine until he gets the laughs he wants. And deserves.
Islamohomophobia: Reloaded is a second attempt at a show cut short last year by a pretty serious illness. In the course of a frenetic hour Capurro covers pretty much all the bases you might expect of him: racism, bigotry, homophobia, abortions, war in the Middle East, religious tracts, paedophilia in the Catholic Church, the death of his mother, and so on–all told with such speed, bravado and absolute commitment that you’ve barely gasped at one outrageous comment before the next is either being flung in your general direction, or cast away as a glorious aside. Everyone and everything is a legitimate target, including himself, not least because he genuinely finds everything funny–even if you suspect it’s in an “if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry” sort of way.
Although his tales of a disastrous gig in Cardiff might suggest otherwise, when Capurro is on form—as he was tonight—he’s an undoubted masterclass in audience interaction, gloriously pushing all the right buttons to ensure that any particular rudeness is forgiven—whether you’re the cute young buck in the back row or a 60 year old sitting in the front.
Despite all the razor-sharp quips, there’s one moment in this show which–by Capurro’s standards at least—verges on the maudlin, when he suggests that marriage to his big black Brazilian genuinely saved him. But the moment doesn’t last; Capurro is simply setting up a soccer-punch of an observation that leaves the audience roaring with laughter. And loving him for it.