On one day in 2021 two major life events – one terrible, one wonderful – coincided for “TV’s Angela Barnes” – so improbably that she can be excused for turning them into the narrative climax of her new show. How could she resist? That ending satisfyingly unites the threads of a 70-minute set tracing her journey through lockdown, her friendship with the late fellow standup Phil Jerrod and her recent marriage, so late in life (Barnes is 46) that the woman selling her a wedding dress had to counsel her against exposing her upper arms.
That comment gets short shrift, and very amusingly so, in a scene that throbs with the vitality (and resentment) of lived experience. There are other such moments, more as the show goes on, in which we feel we’re encountering the real Barnes behind the relatable, sometimes too generic standup. Some of the lockdown material (we drank a lot! We developed unlikely hobbies!) falls into that category, although the issue may simply be that lockdown material now feels like old hat.
Elsewhere, Barnes can slip into rent-a-curmudgeon character, tilting at soft targets like “gender reveal parties” or lean heavily on bluntly spoken similes, like re-entering the EU as returning to a garden party after you’ve shat in the punch. Far better when she treats us as her confidantes, with material on feeling less attractive than her husband, say, or on slimming for her wedding in contravention of her feminist principles.
If the show drifts in and out of potency, it ends up pitching camp there, with a striking story about Barnes being hospitalised by a malfunctioning hot-water bottle, and some cathartic anti-Tory ranting, which includes a lovely line about Jacob Rees-Mogg and “his ventriloquist”. Then there’s the convergence of its two central stories, as the Brightonian wakes up on her wedding day to some heartbreaking news. Is this real-life incident being exploited as – heaven forfend! – “a pathos device”, in Barnes’ words? By then, we’re too involved to mind, as Barnes brings to a winning conclusion this effective set about joy, sorrow and their occasional coexistence.
Angela Barnes: Hot Mess is at the Watermark in Ivybridge on Friday, then touring.
