The closing song of Rob Newman’s new show hymns homo ergaster, a species of ancient human who – to our host’s approval – vanished from Earth leaving minimal trace that they were ever here. That’s not Newman’s style: when you exit his shows, it’s with a mind forcibly imprinted with new perspectives on (to cite tonight’s examples) geological time, speech evolution and Tertullian’s views on population control. But this latest set treads softly. It’s more jeu d’esprit, a playful canter alongside Newman’s intellectual hobbyhorses, than comedy put to the service of some heavyweight theory on humankind.
It’s still erudite, of course, to a self-conscious degree. Newman loves to send up his boffin-ish tendencies, and joke about what a turnoff they are for audiences. Let me demur: his shows are a joy to watch, a workout for the mind as well as the funny bone. The laughter quotient is high with this new offering, which centres Newman’s playful spirit, as routines about “rappers’ remorse”, DH Lawrence on friendship (an excellently twisty gag, that one) and a new communication system he’s established with his wife jostle for stage space with goofy electropop songs about ultra-low emission zones.
If the first half has a thread, it is Newman’s argument for nature over cars, which he traces from ancient Rome to Gary Numan and beyond. His electro stylings are new; the 58-year-old usually prefers the ukulele. No point pretending singing is his strongest suit, but that in no way undermines Act Two’s thesis, which is that speech evolved from song, and humans’ instinct to harmonise with one another could be our salvation.
“Thesis” might be a bit strong: this is a loose collection of ideas striving for a conclusion. But on stage, it’s none the worse for that, as Newman spins Oliver!-esque fantasies of a single smile sending ripples of song-and-dance out into east London, and peddles his “pantomime megafauna hypotheses” about hominids frightening off predators with the conga. Some deftly worked callbacks and running gags enact to great effect Newman’s sense of a cosmos charged by unexpected connections. It’s a lovely show, delivered with a light touch that’d make homo ergaster proud.
At Soho theatre, London, until 8 July
