My original choice for this timeslot, Ian Smith, sold out while I was thinking about it, so this was a punt. It ticked the box of being by an overseas performer, so I was unlikely to catch her locally. It fell under the Theatre listing, so I lowered my laugh expectations. Would I regret choosing this over my third choice, Stuart Goldsmith's WIP?
This is a show about Brooke's horrific ordeals, involving an amputation (unspecified), organ failure resulting in numerous operations and losing her identity. But Brooke, being Brooke, it's all told with perfect teeth, a broad smile and a show-must-go-on mentality. Her confidence is supreme, despite the room being less than half full. The only time she takes a breather from her tight script is for brief video montages from her childhood.
Her excessive upbeatness grates against my cynical Scottish sensibilities. I say wallow in your misery. To be fair to her, she's had it hard. I'm happy that she's happy. She's living her dream, even when her life has been a nightmare. I just don't need a repeat performance.
Simon Evans "Have We Met?" (£16) 14:10 at Just The Fancy Room at Just The Tonic at the Caves
This show didn't tick the overseas box. It was an old show from 2023 that Simon was giving another airing after a tour upgrade. It piqued my interest as I thought it was about Simon's personal descent into early-stage dementia. It wasn't. The closest that got was the standard 'old man walks into a room and forgets why' routine.
Instead, the show dealt more with mortality. The number of comedy greats who died before they reached sixty, which Simon has now surpassed, troubles him. 'Sniper Alley', he calls it, the best being picked off before their time. He pays tribute to many of them, Benny Hill, Frankie Howerd, Tommy Cooper and Sean Lock, for whom he used to write. The latter, I felt, was a valid mention, but perhaps included more to paint Simon in a better light, given his right-wing views, aired semi-regularly on GB News, had resulted in his work being reappraised and called out for punching down rather than being ironic. Not quite cancelled, because he doesn't have a big enough career to take it away. He bemoans how Jimmy Carr and Ricky Gervais can convert their cancellations into viewing figures, ticket sales and, ultimately, cash.
It is telling that the first big laugh in the room came after he declared, almost in passing, how much he doesn't like minorities. This audience was primarily older and English, bar the 21-year-old in the front row, who hadn't heard of any of the comedy greats, not even Little Britain.
The hour suffered rather than benefited from being a recut of his tour show. Themes felt contracted rather than developed. The ending was poor, reciting from memory a section of the poem Ulysses, linking it to a previous Scissors bit. Good for you, mate!
Michelle Wolf (£20) 16:00 at Pleasance One, Pleasance Courtyard
One of the reasons I headed to Edinburgh today was to see Michelle Wolf. I expected an hour of biting satire, laying into both sides of American politics (but mainly Trump). While Trump did receive some bashing in the first five minutes, the rest of the hour delved more into man-bashing and babies, not surprising given she is eight months pregnant. Her jokes are good, but don't land well with a male demographic. The women in the audience were howling with laughter, but it's not as funny when you are the butt of the joke, no matter how true it is.
Hopefully, after she pops out this new one, she'll get back to writing satire (by that, I mean a Netflix special - what did you think I meant?)
Dan Rath: "Tropical Depression" (£13) 18:40 Cab Vol 1 at Monkey Barrel Comedy
A five-star review from Chortle for his show at the Melbourne Comedy Festival spurred me to book a ticket for this one over other choices. I wasn't disappointed.
Dan has an oblique, peculiar view of life, skewed through mental health issues. The material gets dark quickly, but clever at the same time. He sounds like an Antipodean Steven Wright, rolling out one-liners and short jokes, rarely making eye contact with the audience as he runs his fingers through his hair, rubbing his head as if to squeeze out another tortured funny.
It's laugh after laugh, with only an occasional dud, which he remarks about, making it funny, as if deliberate. Maybe it was. It was time well spent.
Cat Cohen: "Broad Strokes" (£20) 21:00 Pleasance One Pleasance Courtyard
I saw some of Cat Cohen's Netflix special and thought it was excruciating and unwatchable. Her over-the-top onstage Millennial personality was unfunny. However, this wasn't a live experience, so perhaps I should see for myself what she's like in person. She did win the Edinburgh Newcomer Award in 2019, after all. This show was about her stroke, so it might have some comedy depth to it.
Whoops.
While a large section of the audience found her hilarious, with so much loud adulation over the most minor things - a flick of her hair or a pout - she left me cold. Maybe my seating position affected the sound quality, but I occasionally struggled to make out what she was saying, and I couldn't follow some of the song lyrics. It could have been her accent, the pitch of the song or just my hearing. I don't think she deserved the huge guffaws and finger whistles in appreciation of her work.
The story itself and its telling were funny, just not as amusing as some of the audience thought it was. Maybe I'm just the wrong age and demographic to understand the funny.
Julia Masli: ha ha ha ha ha ha ha (£20) was 23:15, now 23.30 at Queen Dome, Pleasance Dome
An award-winning, five-star show, originally from 2023, with audience participation. That was all I knew about it. I had to see it for myself.
Boy, was this GREAT!
(THIS REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS!)
We pack the room. I choose to sit in the second row, then realise it's on the same flat level as the front row, and I can't see past the big unit in front of me. I skip back a row, taking the aisle seat. I witness others doing the same, a party of Americans joining me, others switching to the seating across the aisle. I then remember the audience participation bit. I'm on an aisle. Oh dear!
The lights go out. We're in almost total darkness. I detect light out of the corner of my eye coming from the top of the stairs behind me. Others turn around to see what's going on. Julia is at the top of the stairs, a torch on her wrist illuminating her face. "Ha", she barely whispers, repeating the word each time she takes another step down to the stage area, which is set up with a desk and curtains, and items hanging from the ceiling. One of her arms is a plastic mannequin leg, and she has unusual electronic headwear meshed into her costume.
She approaches an audience member in the front row and says, "Ha". They are expected to repeat the word back in the same pitch and tone. When someone gets it wrong, she shouts, 'NO!!!!' in their face and floats away again to find someone new. When someone gets it wrong twice, they are removed from their seat, which she then smashes into pieces at the back of the stage, leaving them to crouch in place. And so it goes on...
When she moves onto the next phase of the show, it gets wild. With a microphone now taped to her plastic leg-arm, she approaches someone in the audience and says, "Praaaaaaw-blem?" They then have to tell her a problem they are experiencing. One person says they are tired. She takes them from their seat and leads them onto the stage, then pulls out a single bed for them to sleep upon, giving them a blindfold and a pair of headphones, over which she hears Julia's meditative chant of "We're all going to die". Another needs to pee, so he's sent away with a specimen bottle to fill and bring back. One cleverclogs declares he has no problems (which I was going to use if picked). She kicks him out. "This show is for people with problems. You have no problems. You must go," the words spoken softly with a faint Eastern European accent. He returns but is kicked out again. She only lets him stay a third time when he insists he paid to see the show.
One woman has responded that her problem is her ability to move on from a recent breakup. She's commanded to let it go. Julia moves across to me. Her eyes are mesmerising as she comes closer, pointing the microphone close to my mouth.
"You."
I qualify what she wants me to tell her. "Do you mean what do I want to let go?"
"Yes".
I mutter quietly, "My breath?"
"Why do you say your breath?" she insists.
"Because I'm holding it. I'm nervous." A titter of recognition ripples around the room.
"Breeeaaath," she commands me, before moving on. As she does, she glances back at me with a slight smirk. "I have not heard that one before."
I get off easy. One poor guy agrees to be washed clean of the world's evil, ending up naked in an actual shower, his dignity protected by frosted glass. It is then that I realise that some of the audience are probably stooges. But not every one. I know I'm not.
The effect of the show is exhilarating. Julia has a powerful presence, intimidating yet playful. I would return to see this show again in a heartbeat, despite it finishing later than billed at 12:50 a.m. (from an 11:30 start). I want to know how much is staged.
Booking fee total £7.50 (two transactions)
