Is there life after a double act? As one half of the Boosh, the hippest comic duo of the late 1990s, Noel Fielding bagged a clutch of awards and a dedicated following. In the Boosh, he was the doe-eyed, comically submissive one; his suave partner Julian Barratt seemed more likely to make the leap to solo stand-up. But here is Fielding with an hour of freewheeling surrealism and woodland character comedy. He has already been compared to Eddie Izzard, but the association flatters him. His material here sometimes lacks discipline or inspiration, even if Fielding's charm and comic imagination are never in doubt.
He bursts on stage in a fit of goodwill and free-associating energy. Glad-handing the audience, he fantasises nonsensical relationships with each of us. "I hate jokes," he tells us; "I don't understand them or know how they work." Instead, he introduces us to two thinly disguised alter egos: Seroovial Brooks, a half-man, half-ram who orchestrates animal-kingdom orgies but himself is lovelorn; and Mario Cruze, a mafioso wolf who steals people's shadows. The latter activity is an example of the interesting conceptual comedy that Fielding too infrequently practises, instead trying to get by on easy sub-surrealist juxtapositions alone.
Fielding may yet extrapolate his better ideas into a more satisfying show. He croons a couple of hippy ditties appropriate to his magic wood setting. His video-screen co-star, the moon, interrupts with hilarious and deflating non sequiturs ("I like Ross Noble") in a bizarre pan-European accent. And the show ends with a delightful animated sequence that depicts Fielding's characters' fates. He should be more ruthless at the points where his show's energy lags, but there is the raw material here to suggest that Fielding's solo career will be worth following.
· Until August 26. Box office: 0131-556 6550.
