I recently interviewed the comedian Marcus Brigstocke, who said that someone had once remarked that he was too handsome to be funny. Being fiendishly good looking has hardly halted Henry Rowley's rise through the comedic ranks. He has more than 1 million TikTok followers and his sketches have amassed more than 72 million likes.
Rowley is the latest star converting viral fame into live success. Out of a sold-out audience of 800 at his biggest London show to date, a quick onstage poll revealed that around 799 members were there because they had seen his clips. The other one had been given a ticket as a birthday treat. Never mind seeing comics on TV, seeing comics on smartphones feels like the sharpest marketing tool.
So much for the number-crunching. Is this dashing 26-year-old entertaining? The answer is a resounding yes.
But the affirmative is also more complex. For someone whose success has come about via the digital world, his debut show, Just Literally, is distinctly analogue. Striding around in front of two chairs and a candlelit table and politely introducing each sketch he resembles a very trad revue act.
Even when his characters are cartoonish Gen Z archetypes they have an old school sensibility. One of his most relatable creations is Minty, a loud upper crust Bristol Uni student on her gap year patronising the locals in Africa. The aforementioned Marcus Brigstocke covered similar terrain with his gormless globetrotter Giles Wemmbley Hogg.
Elsewhere this unashamedly posh performer who makes Jack Whitehall seem like Micky Flanagan excels at pithy portraits of friends using dating apps, his dad and creepy headmasters. An in-flight safety demonstration complete with existential dread is a particular highlight.
There is also a waspish send-up of Steven Bartlett's Diary Of A CEO podcast, with Rowley's version of the host keener to plug his health drinks than listen to his interviewee. This skit has one of the punchier pay-offs. Some routines start strong but slightly fizzle out.
Rowley certainly puts plenty of zip in, waggling his rear, thrusting his arms out and flicking his heels up, as if he is torn between pursuing a career in sketch comedy and interpretative dance. It might be better if he didn't keep saying that the next piece is weird and let fans decide that for themselves.
Moving from sketches on socials to the live arena worked for Mo Gilligan. The signs are there that it could work for Rowley too. At the moment the only thing that can delay his comedy ascendancy is if his looks land him a part in a second series of Rivals.
Richmond Theatre, November 29 and touring. Tickets here.
