Doctor Brown: Becaves

Doctor Brown doesn’t get the same sort of laughs as other comics. The convulsive squawks he elicits tonight seem wholly involuntary, escaping like steam as he ratchets up the pressure with his bizarre and largely silent clowning.

An alienating, stop-start intro sets the tone for a silly yet deeply unnerving hour before the Doctor enters, literally throwing himself into a slapstick routine that sucks all menace from Carl Orff’s ‘O Fortuna’.

The hairy American peers out, curious and pensive. His rapt yet slightly fraught audience gawps back. And from there, with utmost purpose, his careful procedure of absurd behaviour sparks off laughter no one can quite explain.

Bushy of beard, lean of build, he brings to mind an extra from The Life of Brian and is, this year, resplendent in a Chinese skullcap and silk robe (yes, it comes off – but then what?).

He has about him the air of an isolated tribesman working out how to interact with other humans, and failing to brilliantly strange effect. Intrigued by his spectators, he coaxes a few onstage and, through playful set pieces devoid of inhibition, moulds each into the butt of the joke or star of the show.

Edinburgh hardly lacks proud, outgoing performers, but it’s what this trait allows Doctor Brown achieve that matters – namely wordless corruptions of mime and Peking opera. The latter parody, starting out daft and growing fearlessly obscene, is unforgettable.

Woe betide anyone who stumbles across Becaves without some idea of what they’re in for. But for those jaded by the pedestrian bilge that litters the comedy landscape, Doctor Brown is good for what ails you.