This was Sandra Bernhard's first UK gig in three years, and she arrived promising a fearless comic analysis of the whole September 11 rigmarole. "I'm a social commentator - that's kind of what my job is," she told one interviewer. In fact, her social commentary is forgettable. Her specialist subject is herself; she's cabaret's Tracey Emin. Adored not for any particular skill but for being a personality, Bernhard has clearly concluded that it is sufficient simply to be herself on stage. Why expend effort to entertain when your fans cheer the merest platitude and whoop the slightest sashay of the hips?
September 11 is given short shrift. Bernhard opens with a sarcastic riff on how touchy-feely New York has become since 9/11 - how she's best pals with the cops and the firemen, how no one was more deeply affected by the tragedy than she. Later she argues, in a throwaway remark, that America cooks up trouble by beaming images of its luxury worldwide. But reservations about US influence ring hollow from a performer whose routine presupposes an interest in the paraphernalia of US pop culture. If you're not interested in the contents of Allure magazine, this show may not be for you.
Bernhard's dissent is instinctive, but unsophisticated; her performance comes alive when she is talking celebrities, not society. She skewers Britney Spears, broadcasting to America's impoverished live from Las Vegas; even old buddy Madonna, with her desperation to be edgy, feels the swipe of Bernhard's claw. Bitching is this stand-up's best mode - her comic imagination rises to it. "She had so much collagen," she says of one acquaintance, "she forgot how to be a friend." But on this occasion she undermines even the cattiness by claiming to love everyone she's ever met, then singing a schmaltzy song to prove it.
That is characteristic of a show that shambles along with no structure or purpose. When the ad hoc, conversational style works, it's a treat to see a performer so at ease onstage. But Bernhard's blether often leads up blind alleys. Her songs, similarly, are generic rock stompers, backed by a five-piece band, that has little to do with the shtick it interrupts. The impression is of an ego indulging itself and assuming that is entertaining. For many, it will be. But if she honed in on what's honest about her act (its perspectives on celebrity) or what is challenging (the politics), and pared back the chaff, Bernhard might win some new fans as well as satisfying old ones.
