Jack Rooke: Happy Hour
Underbelly Cowgate (Venue 61)
JJJJ
It starts off threatening to be a myopic sketch about Âstudent life, reinforced by an Âaudience who, seemingly newly released from the Âjunior common room, Âguffaw at every slacker Âanecdote and chummy in-joke with a gusto that seems to surprise even Jack Rooke himself.
But although he rides the laughter with the authority of a seasoned stand-up, he is far, far Âbetter than that. With sharp wit, verbal Âdexterity and a fierce political intelligence, he takes us from freshers’ week Âinsecurity to a devastating analysis of men, mental health and suicide. ÂHappy Hour is funny, angry, political and desperately sad.
Where 2015’s Good Grief responded to the death of his father, this show is Âsimilarly haunted by the passing of loved ones. If we are to take him at his word – and the Âstory is too raw to Âdisbelieve him – Rooke has been uncommonly stricken by loss.
But unlike the many shows that treat death as a personal affront, Happy Hour accepts it as an inevitability. Rooke is not maudlin or sentimental. He’s quick to see the Âfunny side of things and revels in the blokish, no-nonsense relationships that many men share. He won’t romanticise his friends just because they are dead. Shit happens.
What does concern him, though, is the inadequate way that we as individuals and society as a whole deal with mental illness. Death may be inevitable, but suicide isn’t – and statistics point to a postcode lottery for those who get help in time and those who don’t. It’s this perspective that drives the rage underscoring Happy Hour. It is a sweet and touching celebration of male camaraderie and an Âimpassioned plea for Âbetter medical provision when men’s Âemotional inarticulacy hits crisis point. It’s a show that floors and fortifies you.
Mark Fisher
Until 27 August. Today 5:20pm..