There’s no messing around with Jan Ravens: barely a note from the house music pa has faded and the lights dimmed before she’s leapt onto the stage in one of her most recognisable guises; ice queen Anne Robinson. This tour however reaches beyond mere stand up and it’s not long before the dominatrix jacket and wig are cast aside and the historical ode to her craft kicks in. Like a surreal lecture, the show effortlessly cross references some her best known impressions with the onus of standing in her predecessor’s shoes and viewing the world from their eyes – utilising slides to further illustrate key moments (including Ravens' own television debut). It’s all impressive stuff and is given several injections of the charismatic wit for which Ravens is known, while the cultural sideshow befits both her status as a Cambridge alumna and Oxford; the playhouse theatre she breezily sums up as an art deco aircraft hangar!
The only occupational hazards Ravens faces are that every female Labour politician now looks the same and the difficulty of bumping into some of her prey at BBC parties. Arlene Philips, for example, whom she mocks with an embarrassed charm, asked ‘are you the one who said I had a mouth like a cat’s arse!’ getting one of the biggest early laughs of the evening. Ravens proceeds ‘should the female comedienne really be taking the piss out of her sisters whom have worked so valiantly to get where they are? And for one fleeting moment seems almost sympathetic before she punches in with ‘nah, fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke eh’ as if the audience had any doubt of her abilities for comic timing. She concludes it would be patronising to exempt on the grounds of gender.
Besides the laughs, the show manages to journey through the museum of impressionism, from Samuel Johnson’s 18th century musing that impressions bring pain or pleasure to every artists’ favourite subject – their own biography. She recounts an early desire to be a dramatic actress plus her own voyage of discovery via stints on radio, Carrott’s Lib, Spitting Image and of course Dead Ringers. The latter stimulates the greatest audience response through her rendition of Carol Smillie ‘more teeth than a bag of pianos,’ news reader Sophie Raworth ‘news for people that like the smell of dog,’ and all the while second guessing audience anticipation and delight of her now legendary caricature of Fiona Bruce – ‘behind a desk or standing up, it’s all the same to me’ Ravens quips amid regular Bruce trait, the smouldering eyebrows. ‘When I first saw Fiona Bruce on the TV, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing!’ She confesses before giving us a Brucie bonus in her new role on Antiques Roadshow.
Despite minimal stage props, save a ballcock, it is a glowing testament to Jan Ravens who made two hours solo in front of an audience look easy. There was much more of course, including the Queen as a punky plumber, a video of a voice box that looked like something Jacqui Smith’s husband would watch and a tribute to retired women: Moira Stewart, Kate Adie and Anna Ford, but for Ravens retiring or even resting look to be a long way off, with a tour stretching into the autumn. As her very camp finale says ‘I just want to be loved’ and with this it looks like she’ll get her wish.
The only occupational hazards Ravens faces are that every female Labour politician now looks the same and the difficulty of bumping into some of her prey at BBC parties. Arlene Philips, for example, whom she mocks with an embarrassed charm, asked ‘are you the one who said I had a mouth like a cat’s arse!’ getting one of the biggest early laughs of the evening. Ravens proceeds ‘should the female comedienne really be taking the piss out of her sisters whom have worked so valiantly to get where they are? And for one fleeting moment seems almost sympathetic before she punches in with ‘nah, fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke eh’ as if the audience had any doubt of her abilities for comic timing. She concludes it would be patronising to exempt on the grounds of gender.
Besides the laughs, the show manages to journey through the museum of impressionism, from Samuel Johnson’s 18th century musing that impressions bring pain or pleasure to every artists’ favourite subject – their own biography. She recounts an early desire to be a dramatic actress plus her own voyage of discovery via stints on radio, Carrott’s Lib, Spitting Image and of course Dead Ringers. The latter stimulates the greatest audience response through her rendition of Carol Smillie ‘more teeth than a bag of pianos,’ news reader Sophie Raworth ‘news for people that like the smell of dog,’ and all the while second guessing audience anticipation and delight of her now legendary caricature of Fiona Bruce – ‘behind a desk or standing up, it’s all the same to me’ Ravens quips amid regular Bruce trait, the smouldering eyebrows. ‘When I first saw Fiona Bruce on the TV, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing!’ She confesses before giving us a Brucie bonus in her new role on Antiques Roadshow.
Despite minimal stage props, save a ballcock, it is a glowing testament to Jan Ravens who made two hours solo in front of an audience look easy. There was much more of course, including the Queen as a punky plumber, a video of a voice box that looked like something Jacqui Smith’s husband would watch and a tribute to retired women: Moira Stewart, Kate Adie and Anna Ford, but for Ravens retiring or even resting look to be a long way off, with a tour stretching into the autumn. As her very camp finale says ‘I just want to be loved’ and with this it looks like she’ll get her wish.