The Glee Club in Oxford offers a charming diversion for hen and stag parties, middle aged couples, and the over-thirty guys’ night out on a Saturday night. Located on Upper Fisher Row, the Glee Club Oxford is strategically placed next to one of the busiest nightclubs in Oxford—the Bridge—which is not far off from its competitor, Park End, offering a complete package of casual and intoxicating amusement in one street block. Upon entering the Glee Club, the hostess will lead you to an assigned table, assuming that you purchase tickets ahead of time. For non-university adult tickets, the price is £18. However, the student ticket pricing is a tantalizing steal at £5.
The aesthetics of the Glee Club is reminiscent of a 1970s game show stage without the polyester. The wall facing the audience is decorated by a red-orange stage curtain, which serves as the background for a large sign that reads “glee” in Impact font. The stage lights projected an orange lava-lamp pattern, which might have been intended to stimulate a kitschy nostalgia for Woodstock or even Nixon. The entirety of the Glee Club is dimly lit except for a selection of a few lamps, which is strangely a signifier for all entertainment venues that cater at night. The early bird attendees are mostly in the 40- and 50- something demographics, and the similarities between the aesthetics and the attendees could be attributed to the need to cater to the age of their customers. The bar is seemingly the only corner of space that belongs to the contemporary generation, comparably lit and catered by young bartenders.
Comedian Matt Brown served as the host throughout the night. While he considered his interjections of monologue between the comics as a “comedy act,” Brown’s performance is better labeled as entertaining and witty hosting than a traditional comedy act. He thoroughly engaged the audience, asking first if there were any “couples” in the audience, then “university” students, and then “Americans”—equally antagonizing the audience with the pitfalls of their categories. The subject of committed relationships seemed to be the common vein of most of his jokes, catering to the older demographic in the audience.
The first act, Dave Twentyman, entertained the audience with the same topic of relationships, ruminating on the Hangover-esque nature of stag parties to the role of the naked phallus in older relationships. However, for the only two Americans in the audience, his Scottish accent proved to be a difficult barrier in translating his jokes into laughter.
Nick Helm, the second comic who resembled an intoxicated Zach Galifianakis, employed a revolutionary type of humor. He blurred the lines between staged insanity and real insanity and dared the audience to question whether his character of an obese, bipolar depressant is inspired by his actual life. Helm entered the stage and asked an audience member whether he liked jokes, but the genius of his work originates from the fact that he repeated “Do you like jokes?” 10 more times in a maniacal manner. He also played a number of original, ironic love songs on his guitar in a fashion reminiscent of comedian Demetri Martin. Helm maintained his character throughout the entire act; this commitment to the art form was the crux of his comedic genius. However, the absurdity of his act divided the audience into two groups: those who could barely sustain a living breath from laughing so hard and those who were so frightened that they couldn’t laugh.
The unfortunate nature of being the act after “the tough act to follow” is that no one remembers the details of your act or even your name, which is the real life case of the comedian after Nick Helm. Unfortunately, his act—regardless of the caliber of humor—could not compare to Nick Helm’s and received conventional laughs for his conventional humor.
Overall, the value entertainment value of a stand-up comedy show at Glee Club far outweighs its cost by a far measurement. While our generation has neglected these comedic cesspools for the conventional club hop, they should reconsider stand-up’s potential for nightly entertainment.
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