Wrapping up his You Can’t Say Nothing Anymore tour with a well-deserved victory lap of sorts, Vittorio Angelone takes to Newcastle’s Tyne Theatre and Opera House in exceptional form. There’s a rareness to Angelone’s comedic stylings that shines through this stage show. He’s a comedian on the up and up, looking for that next step after adapting the work of his idol, bowling icon Pete Webber, to the stage on his previous show. Comedians as public figures have always served a wider purpose than telling jokes. They’re cultural cornerstones that often register a wider thought for the room they play with a connection to their personal lives. What Angelone does with his You Can’t Say Nothing Anymore show, a play on the Patrick Radden Keefe book on The Troubles and the notion that comedians are cancelled for allegedly being funny, is a stroke of genius. What Angelone finds as he pulls at a thread of familial history is a link to a past that still makes people relatively uncomfortable.
He makes that known through a spot-on impression of those who ask him what it’s like to be from Belfast. There’s some light jokes around the tension in the room, but then a very real point underscores the generalised, stereotypical feeling when the capital city is mentioned. Angelone spends much of the show reflecting not just how words can land us in deep trouble, but how the trouble is often from the innocuous or the everyday terminology we take for granted. Those who drum up this notion that they have been cancelled for what they say, more often than not, have said nothing. Angelone does well to navigate those waters, with concrete examples from modern history. Angelone is sharp in getting around problems of libel, too. We don’t have the budget to spotlight those specifics, but just know it’s one of the best parts of the show, a consistent throughline that pops up on occasion when you least expect it.
Angelone puts on a special show that weaves very recent history with a troubled present. Singular comments on comedy as art, on the difference between cancel culture and coaxing a reactionary audience, is studied well by Angelone. He never loses sight of the purpose at hand, but with that same clarity and freedom on-stage the likes of Stewart Lee and James Acaster display, meddling with the form is the next step for comedy. Angelone doesn’t go as far as to say those bemoaning the claim that you can’t say nothing anymore are unable to keep up with the times; but it’s not as though the people doing that would realise anyway. That’s what subtext is for. It’s a tight set lasting just over an hour, and it feels well-paced but, crucially, timely.
Many stand-up specials that do leave a mark on the social consciousness are a reaction to the times. Angelone has shifted away from that somewhat, instead honing in on what we can learn from the last forty years. When You Can’t Say Nothing Anymore feels as though it’s headed to heavier territory, Angelone pivots into that charming, reactionary figure he plays so well on the Guide to Parenting podcast, co-hosted by fellow on-stage expert, Mike Rice. Angelone doesn’t lead with the point of the perception of stand-up comedy as an art form, but it lingers on the mind long after the show ends. If entertainment, like stand-up comedy, is not art, then what is it? Angelone makes the case for a form of art not only understated but taken for granted by both audience and those who reached the top in this field twenty years ago. A very special and often side-splittingly funny show about the reclamation of language perceived as offensive, the cultural ties between generations, and the benefits of appearing on Richard Osman’s House of Games.
Tickets to remaining dates on Vittorio Angelone’s You Can’t Say Nothing Anymore can be found here.
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