Character comedy is a tough gig, and frankly by the end of August, the city will be overflowing with proof of this inconvenient truth. Lewis Dunn, or rather his alter-ego Stanley Brooks, will number amongst the few to take up that challenge and smash it to smithereens. This bombastic ‘Inspirator’ is a fine comic construct, a character Graham Linehan might have created in his pomp (before it all went wrong.)
From start to finish this is a well-plotted show. Beginning with a Tony Robbins worthy bang, Brooks delves into the finance influencer’s toolbox and subverts everything he finds there. It’s clever material, immediately recognisable to anyone who’s loaded a cat video on YouTube only to find Grant Cardone or Ty Lopez pushing a get-rich programme until you can skip the ads. Worry not, Dunn, in character, is simply far more likeable than any of these snake-oil salesmen; you won’t want to skip him.
This is a world where only rich people can be good (everyone else is too poor to help anyone), a world where betting your life savings on one turn of the roulette wheel isn’t reckless, it’s taking a chance to make good.
Dunn just pushes the whole shebang a little sideways and dial the sales pitch to 10. The result is a blend of satire and unapologetic absurdity, a well layered set, rich with subtle misdirections, funny in themselves, but setting the scene for some spectacular punchlines. Energy he has in spades, but this he harnesses to keep that frenetic, revivalist edge to the show. Dunn spends the hour catching waves of adrenaline, and surfing down them with practiced ease.
Broadly the show is divided into lessons, each designed to help the audience realise their dreams of independent wealth. There’s the familiar lingo of breakout groups, and team building exercises, exposed for all the silliness latent in such (sometimes worthwhile) undertakings. No single element is left orphaned, instead each builds upon the other, increasing Dunn’s opportunities to elicit raucous laughter from a surprised, and delighted crowd.
His sponsorship shtick proves a touch hit and miss, and though it’s entirely apt, some of the set-ups err towards the over-long. It’s also possible that some of his payoffs, in general, whilst sophisticated, are more clever than funny. There’s definitely scope to dial that sales pitch to 11, and there’s every reason to believe he has the chops to get there.
Dunn’s crowd work is particularly impressive, a combination of prepared lines, and quick thinking. He has a ‘what’s your job’ many comedians would kill for. You’re a music teacher? Ah so you embraced a life of poverty and want to inflict that on your students! There’s no cherry picking, given time he might engage the entire audience, and find some way to make a ‘economics’ lesson out of the response. This isn’t aggressive interaction, far from it, it’s safe, friendly mischief.
Accompanying the satire and repartee, Dunn throws in a delightful sprinkling of word play. Familiar phrases are trotted out, but turned on their heads. His CV is top notch, overflowing with experience, how else would you describe having 20 jobs in 2 years?
Then we reach the finale, one we won’t spoil. However amidst the genuine revelation on offer, Dunn breaks character, or rather breaks the character. Why he does is clear, but there’s unexplored scope to double-down here. Maybe Dunn, not Brooks is the imaginary alter-ego; or maybe it’s all been a ruse to lure in new clients.
In the final reckoning, however, Lewis Dunn is a comedian at the start of his career, and on the basis of Stanley Brooks: I Can Make Me Rich, he may go very far indeed.
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