Steven Berkoff

One gets the impression that Stephen Berkoff is unused to the interview format. Either that, or entirely indifferent to it. His host began along fairly standard lines: "Stephen is here to talk about his new book..." Retrospectively, he might have opted for a more precise opening statement, and was promptly demoted to the status of fellow audience member for the next half an hour as Berkoff did exactly as he had been instructed. At length. At times it felt rather as if one had strayed into an extended performance of one of Berkoff's less obscene monologues. This, in itself, was not a problem. Indeed, Berkoff put his talents as a actor to very good use, and for most of the evening he had the audience safely in the sweaty palm of his wildly gesticulating hand.

Although he is at The Fringe directing one of his own plays, Berkoff spent very little time discussing it, and instead chose to concentrate on his new book, 'My Life In Food'. In practice, this meant a meandering survey of Berkoff's various gastronomic ponderings, punctuated by what can only be described as moments of stand up comedy. Highlights included a rather visceral impersonation of the average popcorn eater in a cinema. This had the crowd in stitches, but did little to lend credibility to its context, which happened to be an exposition of the relationship between food and theatre throughout the ages.

The breadth and amusement to be found Berkoff's eloquence was of the first order. One found oneself reaching for the popcorn, cinema style. The problem, which quickly became apparent, was that substance was being sacrificed for the benefit of style. You can forgive a comic their generalisations and tenuous links, because they are solely in the business of making you laugh. In this instance, one felt that Berkoff was, somewhere along the line, actually trying to say something about the cultural history of food. That being the case, one felt that his countless generalisations ("The blacks", apparently, "love chicken"), tenuous arguments (pork, it turns out, has an effect on the national character of the French), and reliance on a quite physical brand of comedy, obscured and diluted whatever serious points he was trying to make. The laughter and applause was, however, generous, and everyone left feeling well entertained.

That entertainment would have been more thoroughly satisfying, though, if one felt that it had not jarred with its own material which was, after all, a historical and cultural discussion. Despite all this, enough smiles were present to declare Berkoff a success.