“Low culture” by Henrik Fladseth – Reviews and recommendations

The last time I saw humor at Sentrum Scene was Martin Lepperød who stood here.

Before that, Jimmy Carr, and now Henrik Fladseth.

There is something terribly charming about seeing the two names Lepperød and Fladseth with the gigantic Jimmy Carr, and it sends an important signal to the Norwegian comedy industry: it is entirely possible to build a massive fan base without getting caught in Elina Krantz’s hamster wheel at Latter.

Big fan base

Henrik Fladseth, the comedian with the roaring belly move, has managed it, even behind the payment walls of the streaming services.

The VGTV success “Ikke lov å le på hytta” made Fladseth a common property in its second season, and the Lord of the Rings reference “Looks like meat’s back on the menu, boys” became (certainly annoying) synonymous with the name Henrik Fladseth for a long time afterwards.

This spring he has been successful with what I believe is one of the sharpest Norwegian comedy series of all time, “Føkkings Fladseth” on TV 2.

His boastful and loud appearance has many divided opinions, but around 1,000 people agreed on Friday night that he does not just howl and scream at random.

Offstage, Fladseth appears as an intellectually searching comedian with an analytical curiosity about the society around him.

Therefore, it feels like an apt clarification that his second solo performance is called “Low Culture”.

Here, it should not be intellectualized or tipped with a high-quality felt hat, it should be fucked and farted over a low shoe (Fladseth’s own words).

Dressy simple

After an excellent warm-up set by Hans Magne Skard, it doesn’t take long before it is completely clear that Fladseth and his title are not lying.

“Low culture” is built on the very most well-used format: human telling jokes.

When the person does not spend a single calorie on scenography, staffing or unnecessary things, the spartan approach to fix faxing is unbelievably relieving.

Those of us who remember Norwegian stand-up in its infancy in the 90s know this well. From story one to story two and story three, full of intermediate points and well-considered transitions, without significant digressions.

When the format is so little exploratory, it is important to have good text and good stage language.

Fortunately, Fladseth knows perfectly well what is his leadand sticks to it.

The banal is the genius

One of the reasons for Fladseth’s success is that one just feels that watching him interact with society for 24 hours would be a cavalcade of hysterical reactions and genuine outbursts of rage.

His gaze always seems exploratory, and although the points are often banal, bordering on childish, he manages to deliver them with a touch of intelligence.

It sounds condescending, but it’s actually an impressive feat to make piss sex not just plump and shock-based.

Weaker comedians would be content to mime a bit of urination and hang out those who indulge in it in the bin, but Fladseth instead explores how someone can manage to be neutral about such a polarizing kink.

A good example of how banal shock humor can hide a larger observation through good text craft.

The art of roaring

So to this with the shouting.

Another good example where Fladseth perfects something that is basically something the most primitive human is capable of doing.

“Is he the comedian who drives and roars all the time?”. Yes, he is, but watch out when he roars!

I may be trying to make up a pig (the yelling, not Fladseth), but I’ve never seen a comedian have better timing on his outbursts.

They often come completely unexpectedly, and even though they are also an important element in the entire stage language and the furious image, they still manage to surprise.

Textually brilliant

“Low culture” is not an exercise in formal innovation, nor is it a packed feast of well-considered dramaturgy or costumes, revue numbers and song like a kind of tornado that spins in all directions.

No, “Lavkultur” in all its modesty is a very good stage text with such strong self-confidence that it hardly needs formal ambitions.

The show is not always as innovative in its material either, but long, well-acted stories about, among other things, near-death experiences in Nissedal and small, simple parodies of comic book tropes are refreshing.

Attpåtil performed in a way that had not disappeared among the comedians of the 60s.

And there are very few people other than Henrik Fladseth who can do that.