Leicester Square Theatre, London WC2
You have got to have a particular brand of chutzpah to get your revenge on someone by falsely accusing them of antisemitism and then celebrating the fact by dancing the horah while singing Hava Nagilah - on stage - in front of people, some of them gentiles.
This is one of the outrageous highlights of Joan Rivers's autobiographical play. Though ‘play' is not quite the right word. More accurately, this show, written by Rivers and comedy writing duo Douglas Bernstein and Denis Markell, is a cleverly constructed vehicle which allows its star to do a little acting and a lot of talking.
The setting is a grubby television network's dressing room where Rivers is getting ready to present one of the red-carpet awards shows that revived her TV career.
To her left is her incompetent assistant (Nathan Osgood), to her right is her incompetent Russian make-up artist (Emily Kosloski), and running through the middle is a creaky plot about a dress not arriving on time and a scary new TV executive, the only species on this planet Rivers fears, mainly for their ruthless ageism.