These were the first shows I booked for this year's Fringe. Elf Lyon's and Lara Ricote's shows were must-sees. The other two were calculated bankers.
Bob and I headed through at lunchtime, parking at Ingliston Park & Ride (eventually finding a parking bay at the furthest point from the tram station), then catching the tram to West End and walking over to the Underbelly at Cowgate. We bought drinks and sat in the bar until our first show was queuing.
15.10 (1hr) Adam Riches: The Critic's Way.
Cow Cafe at Underbelly, Cowgate. Ticket Price £15 (2 for 1)
Blurb:
Wanna be a comedy reviewer? Think you have what it takes to sit in a dark room watching something on your own without falling asleep? Then come join Caliban Munroe, 'the single most influential critic of our times' (The Caliban Munroe Podcast), and best-selling author of industry bible, The Critic's Way, as he hosts his award-winning once-in-an-afternoon seminar on how to live your dream and crush everyone else's. NB: there will be no press tickets available for this show.
As we enter the Cow Cafe, I'm not exactly sure what to expect. The venue is a cafe, with small round tables and low stools. The bar is closed, and a folded copy of the Scotsman sits wedged upright against the beer taps. A stage has been erected against the long wall, and upon it sits a coffee table with an artist's illustration pad, a massive pencil, and a book. Outside is the main thoroughfare to and from the other performance spaces, so curtains are used to close off the space once we're all in. Bob and I sit at the back of the room in front of the long high table with the bulk of the audience between us and the stage. I feel safe, because the latecomers have rearranged the seats in front of us so they can sit together.
However, as if to prove me wrong, Caliban is not a critic who remains on the stage. The East Coast Scotsman (think Alan Cumming with the gusto of Dominik Diamond) needs to get in amongst his attendees, engage with them, get them pumped up for his seminar on how to 'tique'. We chant back his catchphrases, make noises at his request and literally shake off our stress. One couple are asked to 'tique' each other. She gets a gold star on the forehead so he knows not to pick on her again. Another punter becomes a judge, Voice-style, sitting at the front facing Caliban, with instructions to turn around once he loses interest (the gag being once he turns around - and he does, to watch Caliban in the audience - he can't turn back and has to face the back wall for the rest of the show).
As all this is going on, Caliban drip-feeds us his backstory of being replaced at The Scotsman, a narrative which drives the show to its conclusion.
I loved the exhilaration of this show. The script and performance were laugh-out-loud funny. A brilliant start to our day. I can see Adam bringing this character to Dictionary Corner on Cats Does Countdown.
17:40 (1hr) Lara Ricote: INKLING.
Monkey Barrel 3. Ticket Price: £15 (2 for 1)
Blurb:
You know when stuff happens to you, and you react in a certain way (read: cry), so then you lean in? To know thyself? A man in a museum was mean to me (classic), and I’ve gotten a lot out of it (hell yeah). My stupidest and smartest show yet (alright!). INKLING is a show about How to Salute to the Mystery of Being Alive (ok?). Might that be of intrigue...? To you? Big kisses to you and yours. Love, Lara. PS I am trying my best. Edinburgh Best Newcomer winner 2022. As seen on TV.
The usher police insist we fill every seat, encouraging us to move to the end of the row, so, not willing to sit in the front row, I once again end up against the wall. I can't see the pictures on the stage hanging against the wall.
There are three microphones, the middle one notably higher, with stools acting as a platform to reach it.
Lara starts on these stools, shrieking in tongues with a scarf around her head. Blackout. She moves to another microphone and introduces the show, speaking quickly, almost unintelligibly, telling us about her deafness, how she hears about 65%. Blackout. She gabbers on about the philosophical aspects of life, using the framed mottos as examples of universal truths. Thankfully, she turns the frames so those of us at the sides can see them. Blackout. She talks about how she came out of a long-term relationship last year. Blackout. She plays out an encounter with a man in a museum, a Londoner she can barely understand. And so on, and so on.
Sounds a bit arty. It is, but it's also hilarious. Lara uses her clown skills to prick any pomposity in proceedings. The stage floor is soaking by the end of the show, as every mouthful of water she gulps never gets swallowed as she continues to talk at a million miles an hour, earnestly pleading with us to understand. Tears are represented by pouring water down her cheeks.
I understood about 65% of what she said, and that was the point. If you have no Inkling about what the show is about from this review, that's on me, but that too is the point. You need to work it out for yourself, and go see it. But please, try to get a seat where you face the stage.
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| The clean-up begins |
19:30 (1hr) Ahir Shah: Golden.
Pleasance One. Ticket Price: £20 (2 for 1)
Blurb:
Ahir Shah discusses love, money, family, responsibility, fear, forever and frogs. His last show, Ends, won the Edinburgh Comedy Award, toured to international acclaim and is streaming on Netflix. As seen on Live at the Apollo, Mock the Week, QI, that sort of thing. 'The most important stand-up of the year, if not decade’ (Stephen Armstrong). ***** (Guardian, Independent, Telegraph, Standard, Chortle.co.uk).
This show is a stand-up performance about becoming an adult, where Ahir sells every joke, every nuance, every thought in a well-practised manner, teasing out the details of how he became an adult, with all the stress and responsibility that comes with it. The joke rate is not high, and he almost oversells them. The underlying message, though, is powerful. The ending is delivered like a theatrical monologue.
This show was something different. It felt like an Edinburgh show. I learned many things about Ahir's life that defied my expectations, to the show's benefit. It was deep, meaningful and started conversations post-gig about when life changes from being a child to becoming an adult and how we respond to that through our daily life.
Comedy for thinking grown-ups.
21.30 (1hr) Elf Lyons is The Woman on the EdgePleasance Beyond. Ticket Price: £18 (2 for 1)
'I'm sorry, I've said too much...' Sky Arts Award-winning comedian Elf Lyons is The Woman on the Edge. A completely normal, autobiographical (and in no way complex) – observational stand-up show about love. A perfect show to take yourself to. Inspired by Vertigo, Apollo 13, the opera Pagliacci. Directed by Ingmar Bergman. One of The Telegraph's 50 Funniest Comedians of the 21st Century. 'Praise her genius – and go' ***** (Telegraph). 'Expert clowning' **** (Sunday Times). **** (Guardian).
At the end of Elf's last tour show, Horses, she previewed ideas for a very early work-in-progress about her breakup, her fiancee dumping her by WhatsApp weeks before their wedding. The Woman on the Edge is the show born from those ideas. She dropped all the stuff about her agent and getting on Taskmaster in favour of mining her soul.
On social media, Elf takes great pains to remind reviewers that this is NOT a break-up show. Who am I to disagree? I mean, it is, but it's a whole lot more.
Elf comes on stage in a blue dress with massive, frilly shoulder straps, walking about off-balance in high heels (only she's barefoot). She's smoking an imaginary cigarette, producing real smoke from her chest. As this overwrought 40s starlet character, she subverts the narrative, talks exposition on her banana (only it was the wrong banana), lip-syncs to pre-recorded sound bites from Apollo 13 and from the crowd member she plucked from the front row to narrate her scripted experiences. She makes allusions to Pagliacci, the old joke being that a man goes to the doctor feeling depressed. The doctor recommends he cheer himself up by going to see Pagliacci, the funniest clown in the world, who's playing in town that night. The man says, "I can't. I am Pagliacci."
Sidebar: Glenn Moore had his own take on this. Pagliacci feels even worse because, if tickets are still available on the day, he hasn't sold out.
Over the course of the hour, we come to understand the turmoil Elf was in, still performing her tour show while her personal life imploded. She was oblivious to how much her support network of family and friends guided her back to safety.
The show feels raw. When she's acting out the school dance, acquiescing to each partner who abandons her, I want to step in and look into her sparkly eyes to tell her, 'I see you, I hear you, I love you, and I'm here for you'. Obviously, other than in that moment, that wouldn't be true, but that was the feeling it brought out in me (that's a whole school dance can of worms inside my head, waiting to be carried to my grave).
Elf's show is an experience. It's funny, it's silly, it's technically amazing, and it's sad. An artist laid bare beneath the guise of a Fringe show. I hope she finds happiness. If it's any consolation, she says she's really good at anal.
And that was our day. I spotted Angelone Vittorio walking along the Cowgate. Rory Bremner was chatting to Matt Forde as they left Matt's venue (not sure if he was participating or watching). Ahir was drinking with friends in the bar after his show.
We didn't get home to Paisley till after1 am, despite the last show finishing at 10.30 pm. Between the time it took to shuffle out of the venue, then walk to the tram stop (diverting via McDonald's for a cheeky milkshake), then missing the tram by seconds, we didn't get back to Ingliston till midnight.
It was worth it though. A great day, even if my dinner at the City Cafe was yuck.
