Marcel Lucont is a loveable misanthrope. He's superior, disdainful, insulting and hilarious. From the moment he minced onto the Rangatira stage in his bare feet wearing that perfectly engineered sneer, to when he left with an arrogant toss of his head, I laughed and laughed. He hates women and children, he hates macho and metro sexual men. He hates all people, it seems, except himself. And that's what you go for, to see all that vitriol so charmingly dispensed that it goes down easily, like a good bottle of Bordeaux.
Lucont's distate for all cultures except his own has been perfectly adapted for his Kiwi audience. He poked fun at our accents, our lack of culture, our inappropriate slang, and then he brought us firmly onside by dishing out worse to Australians and Americans. He used poetry, prose, and even song to explain his views on everything from monagamy to child-rearing. He interacted with the audience too, if only to react with disbelief, even horror, when they responded too slowly, or if they'd been married too long.
When I think about Monsieur Lucont's jokes, it occurs to me that if they were delivered by anyone else I'd probably take issue with them. But it seems this Frenchman has comic immunity, and that's the cleverest thing about his show. He may be mocking everything you know and love, but you don't once feel offended or attacked. I think that's because you're always aware that the man standing in front of you is a caricature, he is a joke in himself, and that's why his barbs sing more than they sting.
Marcel Lucont was fashionably late for his first night at the Q Theatre, ‘even for a French man’ he quipped. He turned the cause of the delay, a technical difficulty, into material, tutting at the incompetence of the staff. Say salut to Marcel, he has arrived.
Accompanying him on stage was a bottle of red, a chaise lounge, a projector and screen, and a waft of suave cool with more than a hint of superior arrogance.
You may know Marcel from the comedy gala performances, or have seen his show before, but Marcel Lucant ‘Is’ is on a new scale. The Rangatira room in Q Theatre adds the gravitas this performer needs to get the best from Marcel, who always felt too big a character to been confined into a small venue. Using his projector screen before we even get going means that we can get interactive with our fav Frenchie.
Lucont demands your attention immediately by delivering my favourite opening line of the festival. He muses about life’s big questions. His utter disdain for children, and the obese, is wonderfully communicated;using visuals to illustrate his point. As always the Kiwi accent will get a jibe but it’s the Aussies that feel the full force of Lucont’s disgust.
The show features such immensely satisfying poetry that you will be laughing at, and envious of at the same time. We also get a sneak peek into the childhood of Marcel in a few readings from his autobiography. If this isn’t enough there is pretty much a full on cabaret performance too.
This show will not disappoint, and even if it did Marcel wouldn’t care for your stupidity. Poetry, philosophy and song. Life with Marcel Lucont is magnifique and an honour!
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Lucont in burgundy suit with his trademark bare feet and holding a glass of red wine enters and strikes a pose. He tut tuts the “technical difficulties” (how hard is it to turn on a projector?) and admits he hasn’t been told if they’ve been fixed or not (will we be electrocuted by the end of the show?). With his task made more difficult by audience displeasure, he soon has forgetting our waiting by seducing us into his comedic wavelength with his quite hypnotic slow paced patter and foreign sophistication.
Lucont’s musings are generally the usual crutch of the stand-up: the absurdities of everyday life and nationalistic observations, with some particular barbs towards the Australians (as previewed at his set at the Comedy Gala) and some wonderful thoughts on us (being particularly stuck by the walking green arrow man to help us cross the road). At times I did feel some material to be out of date – pointing out the absurdity of internet lingo “ROTFL” has a long lineage, and the European horsemeat scandal no longer feels so current. What makes Lucont so memorable however is the adoption of the haughty, cultured and borderline misogynist French-stereotype persona that makes everything that much funnier, with a wicked nihilistic streak thrown in.
Specific Lucontisians, such as a witty songs, poetry recitation, and readings from his personal memoir are a welcome change of pace that make a Lucont show experience a must.
New Zealand Comedy Festival regular, ‘Frenchman' Marcel Lucont, returns to the city of sails from the city of lights with his new show Marcel Lucont – Is.
The show promises to muse on mortality, morality and masculinity in a multimedia mélange. It delivers all that plus diatribes on obesity, fecundity and seduction. Along the way Lucont manages to insult Americans, Australians, the Brits and all of their children.
He opens with an operatic flourish and a two-fingered salute, and just gets weirder from there. One of Lucont's tricks is to take a well-known story or saying and give it another ending. His alternative version of the ‘marshmallow experiment' is quite something.
Along with smouldering wine quaffing and witty ad-libbing, the show includes poems and even a couple of songs. ‘May contain traces of food', a ditty about processed food, is unpronounceable but very catchy (and well worth remembering during your next trip to the supermarket).
Just when you think Lucont is wrapping up a fine evening of entertainment, voila! He brings out a series of quick-fire surprises guaranteed to get hearts racing and pulses pounding.
He enters on stage barefoot, wearing a suit and skivvy combo with a glass of red wine in the best french philosopher tradition. This is a total must see of the festival. Clever, witty and so dry, it is French comedy at its most existentially brilliant.
See more at: http://thedailyblog.co.nz/2014/04/26/5-star-comedy-preview-the-old-mout-cider-comedy-gala/#sthash.CLGLjTR6.dpuf
Marcel Lucont dresses exquisitely, yet leaves off his shoes and spends the entire show strutting with absolute flair in his barefoot bliss. He is the perfect host for Le Comique. His relaxed manner oozes everywhere, infecting everything, and his smooth, attractive, French accent is incredible to listen to: a voice you could never grow tired of. He holds the evening together well with his interactive and witty repartee (he has the audience in stitches by picking on them randomly) and his musical ditty about ‘How to Leave Your Lover' is a hit. He leaves the audience wanting more: such a tease!