Sarah Millican: Chatterbox review (DVD) ★★★½

It would be hard to hate Sarah Millican, or even mildly dislike her. In the cut-throat world of comedy, where audience opinion crystallizes in seconds and critical review all too often takes the form of personal attack, Millican cuts a personable and instantly likeable figure. Then she tells us about letting off curry-farts on her boyfriend whilst he was otherwise engaged ‘down there’.

The paradox of a woman who sounds like a quaint little aunt but spins vivid and visceral sex stories is Millican’s main appeal. Her humour seems like the gentle, comely sort: but she performs in front of a backdrop of gigantically scrawled cakes and cocks, a visual reminder of what her character is all about. She paints herself as a woman of voracious appetites, both culinary and copulatory, tells lewd jokes, snickers, swears, and polishes it all off with that dirty little chuckle that would keep a sex chat line in business singlehandedly (no pun intended).

The fact that none of this seems staged is a huge part of her appeal, too. Her sweetness is never saccharine, just as her vulgarity isn’t gratuitous. She never seems to be trying, either to win you over or to shock you. Stand-up of course is far from being off the cuff – except the audience interaction (of which plenty here, and well managed) – but the ability to make it appear natural, and to make your stage persona seem uncontrived, is a feat of great difficulty, and one Millican manages with dexterity.  

Most importantly, she effortlessly takes charge of the room. Don’t let the cute exterior fool you – this is a woman who knows her stuff. In comedy, this is paramount. There is nothing worse than watching a floundering comedian feverishly root for a laugh – even if they’re doing well, knowing that the relentless craving for approval is bristling under the skin can make you too aware that this is an act: they may be funny, but the laughter still becomes strained. (On the opposite end of the spectrum of course are acts like Stewart Lee, who ooze with so much self-congratulatory confidence that it almost becomes a point not to laugh, even on the rare occasion when they actually bother to make a joke). Millican has none of this: her appearance and gentle Geordie vowels look like they might quickly fall under fire onstage, but she quickly proves that she’s more than a match, and instead of trying to counter the preconceptions with overt aggression, she uses them to her advantage, sneaking a vulgar joke on you when you least expect it.

It’s a very static performance, and her material doesn’t venture as far out as I might have liked – but it’s a thoroughly enjoyable and delightful set. More Millican, please.