Michael Barrymore, Wyndhams Theatre

Barrymore's not having fun, and seems not to care whether we do

A candidate for the title "The Rasputin of Light Entertainment", Michael Barrymore has survived brushes with drink and drugs, a public self-outing of his homosexuality, the pulling of publishing and television deals and, of course, the tragic events at his home in 2001.

But after a successful tour in Australia and New Zealand, Barrymore has returned to the West End. Live performances are his first love, as he wasted no time in saying during the run-up to tonight's show, though it's hard to believe he would resist any future lure of either the small or silver screens. It comes to something when you are offered a petition outside the theatre to demand his return on TV.

Despite effortlessly taking the audience through a scrapbook of comedy doodles and ditties, Barrymore knows he's having a difficult time. A press night was always bound to bring a sceptical audience and cutting heckles ("You sound like you're in a car park?" Barrymore says to one vocal audience member, "I wish" came the reply).

Thankfully he goes on to strike it lucky with Debs, a bubbly lady from Essex, who laughs like Basil Brush on helium. Her hysterical enthusiasm allow Barrymore to warm to an audience member for the first and only time, toying with her amiably and manipulating her like a ventriloquist's dummy. However, for the most part, here is a man who often looks like he is not enjoying his routine and seems hardly bothered if the rest of us are.

During the course of the evening you wonder if it is Barrymore's audience who are funny rather than the man himself. Their reverence for him produces amusing spurts of sycophancy (none to surpass Debs, though) and their willingness to say hello or shout out to him is not diminished by his less-than-playful put-downs. Here at least he is given the chance to demonstrate some tried and tested lines.

Dubbed in one recent article as a "comedian of errors", Barrymore's act makes mercifully little reference to his past troubles, with only one gag about press interference and the odd self-deprecating reference to rehab. Meanwhile of his homosexuality, the only play on this comes during a mock Shakespearian speech to a couple of heavies on stage. Essentially, though, Barrymore is a "straight" performer and is as suggestive and as physical with the ladies as he ever was.

A year ago, after an open verdict was returned on the death at Barrymore's home, a telephone poll asking whether he should return to TV screens found that 86 per cent were against. Today, there would be much less resistance - and a good thing too, as TV seems the only medium capable of using Barrymore's skills.