With limp Man-Wulf hand reaching out from the half-misted stage, Stewart Lee prepares a second act unlike anything in popular comedy. At a time when individuality is seemingly bereft in Lee’s target – the well-paid, Netflix comedians pool – to see a performer embody the vitriol of popular comedy is individual. Lee goes a long way in discussing this throughout Stewart Lee vs. The Man-Wulf, with a softening of the usual hits. Morrissey has evolved. Or at least, the man who now has a slim resemblance to him on the Playhouse Theatre stage in Leeds has. These are the hits which bait you in, set the scene, and allow Lee to run rampant with the format he had picked apart in his stellar preceding show, Basic Lee. He has shown audiences what and how a comedian incorporates the world around us into a condensed format, and now is the chance to show its impact.
Lee holds firm with the idea that comedy is a balancing act. But the frequent falls, delightfully planned, are each maintained with confidence. An acceptance of what happened before, but with a new shine, the show must go on. That way of living as he mounts a series of costume changes which would make the Cirque Du Soleil conglomerate, or the mid-1990s WWF midcarder Goldust, blush. The beauty, or perhaps the horror, of Stewart Lee vs. The Man Wulf is the context of the show, no matter the pull of contemporary news, is forever relevant. That is the fear Lee shares with the audience. Some art is, selfishly, for the listener, filling a gap or making sense of something unrelated to the show but overwhelming in some unknowing context. The emotive feel and reaction, be it seeing a 57-year-old man pour blood, sweat, and faux mini penises out on stage or listening to Paul McCartney’s Long Haired Lady, is individual.
There’s no point dissecting the components of the show, because like any solid, road-travelled comedian, Lee knows to play with the uniqueness of the audience, the punches and riffs which come from spontaneity, of interacting with the art on stage. It should be noted, too, that Lee has a strong alternate career as a Bob Dylan impersonator ahead of him, should the veteran of stage and studio opt against a UK tour next year. In this form or the polish of a recorded special, Stewart Lee vs. The Man Wulf is a must-see piece of stage work. Ambitious, to say the least. An honest thrill, too, which points out what many audience members may already know, but are yet to question.
At a time when image is everything, Lee does well to dismantle the concept of vitriol as power, given that anyone, from the slick-suited millionaire comedian to the sweating wolf-man, can say it. All it takes is conviction and audience. Lee has both and demonstrates the shortcomings of right-wing hits, the popular slop of streaming services looking for your money, your time, and nothing else. He works from the worrying world around us, and he calms the storm with a little dash of hope. He embodies the spirit of the oft-forgotten song Seeing the Real You at Last, which Dylan recorded for Empire Burlesque. There is still, Lee seems to say, something to reveal about that underbelly of the comic as a reactionary figure, as a mirror, or service hatch, to the world around us. That persona on stage, in politics, must melt away. Finding a new route down the man-wulf inhabited road is all part of growth, of the future.
“Well, I thought that the rain would cool things down
But it looks like it don’t
I’d like to get you to change your mind
But it looks like you won’t” – Bob Dylan
