Review of Prisoner of Raw
Mick Foley played the second of his four dates in the Assembly Rooms as part of the Edinburgh Comedy Festival on Thursday night last. The six hundred seater was packed - only a couple of rows shy of capacity.
Over his whole run, Foley had managed to sell nearly all of his twenty four hundred seats. Those numbers are particularly impressive in a saturated festival town where new, and well respected comedians, are sometimes playing to small and empty houses.
It certainly seemed like Edinburgh was treating Mick Foley like a big deal. Around the city in general, people of a certain wrestling persuasion, were swapping their Foley sightings and phone pics. There was podcasts, and TV interviews and print stories and meet and greets. There was even a special edition tee shirt flying around.
The WWE Superstar was a big deal in Edinburgh - a city with a large enough wrestling fan base to make him so.
As an opener, Foley's "mentor" and Perrier award winning comic, Brendon Burns, struck a lighting, short set centered - aptly enough - on pro wrestling. His loud and fast delivery worked perfectly in attaching himself to the audience as a fellow fan.
His admiration for wrestling, and particularly Foley, was wholly apparent as he finished up and introduced "the most compelling man in all of wrestling."
Cue the car crash music and a standing ovation as the flannel shirt could be seen entering from stage right.
"Foley! Foley! Foley!"[image error]
And that was the big difference I found between this Edinburgh gig and the previous time I saw Mick doing stand-up a year earlier. This time it was unashamedly a wrestling show for wrestling fans. I think his audience always thought that, but this time around The Hardcore Legend was thinking it too.
Mick Foley was a wrestler who was in town to regale funny wrestling stories, while sometimes taking the opportunity to make larger points. More 'An Evening With….' than a classic stand up set.
And that's where Prisoner of Raw excelled.
To see him narrate high definition footage of Hell in a Cell was both surreal and unique. But most importantly at a festival like this - it was hilarious.
The world of pro wrestling can be hysterical in its ridiculousness and Foley revelled in that fact. From his pre-match music choices, to the Undertaker's whispered message. From gang violence resulting in a motorboating incident to a sage piece of advice delivered to Stacy Keibler before he left the company.
There was a lot of ground covered and the former WWE champion's performance was varied, witty and roitious in doing so.
The show changed gears frequently to pull you in and make you listen. Although sometimes this approach lead to trouble because pauses and quietness seem to be the enemy of some wrestling fans. From the 'What?' chants at arenas to the heckles in at a comedy show - if there's not fireworks and shiny things to distract some people then tourettes sets in.
This, however, didn't knock Foley off his stride like it may have in the past. He kept the room and confidently moved from one bit to another until the show's end.
But he wasn't clocking off for the night just yet.[image error]
Less than an hour after he left that big stage, and his autograph hunters - he had to perform a set again. Only this time it was as one of several unannounced guest spots in a tiny, windowless, wooden shed at the back of a makeshift beer garden.
The box was sweaty and drunk and aggressive. There were less than twenty people present, and offensive heckling was encouraged by the attractive and tightly dressed hostess.
Even though it was only a couple of miles from where he just been, it couldn't have been further away from where he had just been.
Apparently, the gig was set up by Brendon Burns as a "grass roots kind of thing." A way to pay your dues and get better at comedy.
And, for me it was where Foley did his best work.
He was surrounded by people who could take him or leave him. No real wrestling fans to speak of. No Hell in the Cell questions, no BANG! BANG! This crowd just wanted more and more outrageous stuff to happen so they could whoop and aggressively high five each other and chug another drink.
They were calling each other "faggits" and "fucking crackwhores" before he even made his entrance.
Foley's Edinburgh festival rep was very nervous at what was about to happen. She didn't want him in that atmosphere at all. He listened politely and made the call to go on regardless.
At the start of his wrestling career, Foley used to take a backward bump from the ring to the concrete floor and split his head open for a few bucks. And here he was, many years and many larger paydays later, about to do its comedy equivalent. For no money.
And he killed it. He took a hostile room on and won them over with comedy, charm and some great storytelling.
Even though it was late and it was his third performance of the night, [he also did a spot on another show before his own gig] Foley looked even more energized than he was in the packed room earlier.
There was something different about it. Something more dangerous for the performer. He got no concessions and no cheap pop could endear him to the crowd or rescue him if things went askew.
It was harder work but he seemed to genuinely enjoy the payoff of earning the enthusiastic applause coming from the small crowd. In that black box, Mick Foley wasn't a Hardcore Legend, a WWE Champion or a Best Selling Author. He was simply a comedian who made the crowd from hell laugh at one of the largest, and hardest to please, comedy festivals in the world.
Two different shows, two completely different houses, two completely different performances, but both outcomes were exactly the same. Two standing ovations.
Over his whole run, Foley had managed to sell nearly all of his twenty four hundred seats. Those numbers are particularly impressive in a saturated festival town where new, and well respected comedians, are sometimes playing to small and empty houses.
It certainly seemed like Edinburgh was treating Mick Foley like a big deal. Around the city in general, people of a certain wrestling persuasion, were swapping their Foley sightings and phone pics. There was podcasts, and TV interviews and print stories and meet and greets. There was even a special edition tee shirt flying around.
The WWE Superstar was a big deal in Edinburgh - a city with a large enough wrestling fan base to make him so.
As an opener, Foley's "mentor" and Perrier award winning comic, Brendon Burns, struck a lighting, short set centered - aptly enough - on pro wrestling. His loud and fast delivery worked perfectly in attaching himself to the audience as a fellow fan.
His admiration for wrestling, and particularly Foley, was wholly apparent as he finished up and introduced "the most compelling man in all of wrestling."
Cue the car crash music and a standing ovation as the flannel shirt could be seen entering from stage right.
"Foley! Foley! Foley!"[image error]
And that was the big difference I found between this Edinburgh gig and the previous time I saw Mick doing stand-up a year earlier. This time it was unashamedly a wrestling show for wrestling fans. I think his audience always thought that, but this time around The Hardcore Legend was thinking it too.
Mick Foley was a wrestler who was in town to regale funny wrestling stories, while sometimes taking the opportunity to make larger points. More 'An Evening With….' than a classic stand up set.
And that's where Prisoner of Raw excelled.
To see him narrate high definition footage of Hell in a Cell was both surreal and unique. But most importantly at a festival like this - it was hilarious.
The world of pro wrestling can be hysterical in its ridiculousness and Foley revelled in that fact. From his pre-match music choices, to the Undertaker's whispered message. From gang violence resulting in a motorboating incident to a sage piece of advice delivered to Stacy Keibler before he left the company.
There was a lot of ground covered and the former WWE champion's performance was varied, witty and roitious in doing so.
The show changed gears frequently to pull you in and make you listen. Although sometimes this approach lead to trouble because pauses and quietness seem to be the enemy of some wrestling fans. From the 'What?' chants at arenas to the heckles in at a comedy show - if there's not fireworks and shiny things to distract some people then tourettes sets in.
This, however, didn't knock Foley off his stride like it may have in the past. He kept the room and confidently moved from one bit to another until the show's end.
But he wasn't clocking off for the night just yet.[image error]
Less than an hour after he left that big stage, and his autograph hunters - he had to perform a set again. Only this time it was as one of several unannounced guest spots in a tiny, windowless, wooden shed at the back of a makeshift beer garden.
The box was sweaty and drunk and aggressive. There were less than twenty people present, and offensive heckling was encouraged by the attractive and tightly dressed hostess.
Even though it was only a couple of miles from where he just been, it couldn't have been further away from where he had just been.
Apparently, the gig was set up by Brendon Burns as a "grass roots kind of thing." A way to pay your dues and get better at comedy.
And, for me it was where Foley did his best work.
He was surrounded by people who could take him or leave him. No real wrestling fans to speak of. No Hell in the Cell questions, no BANG! BANG! This crowd just wanted more and more outrageous stuff to happen so they could whoop and aggressively high five each other and chug another drink.
They were calling each other "faggits" and "fucking crackwhores" before he even made his entrance.
Foley's Edinburgh festival rep was very nervous at what was about to happen. She didn't want him in that atmosphere at all. He listened politely and made the call to go on regardless.
At the start of his wrestling career, Foley used to take a backward bump from the ring to the concrete floor and split his head open for a few bucks. And here he was, many years and many larger paydays later, about to do its comedy equivalent. For no money.
And he killed it. He took a hostile room on and won them over with comedy, charm and some great storytelling.
Even though it was late and it was his third performance of the night, [he also did a spot on another show before his own gig] Foley looked even more energized than he was in the packed room earlier.
There was something different about it. Something more dangerous for the performer. He got no concessions and no cheap pop could endear him to the crowd or rescue him if things went askew.
It was harder work but he seemed to genuinely enjoy the payoff of earning the enthusiastic applause coming from the small crowd. In that black box, Mick Foley wasn't a Hardcore Legend, a WWE Champion or a Best Selling Author. He was simply a comedian who made the crowd from hell laugh at one of the largest, and hardest to please, comedy festivals in the world.
Two different shows, two completely different houses, two completely different performances, but both outcomes were exactly the same. Two standing ovations.
No comments have been added yet.
