FESTIVAL COMEDY | Reviews
TOM SHILLUE Gentle musings from a genuine guy ●●●●●
When you’re an aspiring stand-up, having your comedy stamped with the word ‘approval’ by a big name can matter a great deal. Eddie Izzard has been a pioneer for comics coming to the Fringe from overseas (Trevor Noah being the most notable success) and there’s a band of European acts for whom English is not their first language who are here ‘in association’ with both Dylan Moran as well as the Better Together campaign’s most notable surrealist (insert own gag here). Erudite American Tom Shillue looks like he could make his own way in the comedy world without anyone’s leg-up, thank you very much, but it appears that Daniel Kitson was the man to ease his path to Edinburgh. Given that celebrity endorsement, it comes as no surprise to learn Shillue is cut from the same storytelling cloth. Like Kitson (nowadays), you can’t imagine Shillue getting up in the faces of his front row to berate them with barbed insults: he’s more likely to politely ask them if he could join in with their conversation.
Once he gets through his opening banter about how you
could get away with all manner of offensive things in 1970s ad campaigns, he nibbles into the meat of his show: a set of stories mainly about his family and friends and a couple of curious incidents. The tales certainly arise from his own perspective (could he really be responsible for creating one of America’s most iconic 80s dance crazes?) but he does paint some truly delightful pictures. It can be shown that subtle imagery-led comedy can go down
well with Edinburgh audiences (Kitson himself and Demetri Martin for two), but Tom Shillue’s gentle odes don’t offer up much that will still be with you in a couple of weeks’ time. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Assembly Rooms, 0844 693 3008, until 24 Aug (not 11), 9pm, £10 (£9).
TWISTED LOAF: HALF BAKED Comedy on a knife edge ●●●●●
STEPHEN BAILEY Sparkly but slight tale of heartbreak ●●●●● TIFF STEVENSON Slightly dated examination of positivity ●●●●●
The first thing that will flash through your mind as you stagger out of Half Baked is: ‘what the fuck have I just witnessed?’ You will struggle to comprehend the barrage of weirdness that has filled the last hour. Opening with probably the most unexpected entrance at this year’s Fringe, Twisted Loaf is a fearless female double act. Libby Northedge is statuesque and aloof while Nina Smith often plays the fool as they invade the audience with their madness. The tiny studio space at the Counting House can barely contain the physicality of their grotesque creations.
You have to admire their total commitment. Scenes featuring a ballet, some horsey poshos and an overly sexualised home-help are among their most coherent sketches. But none of this is conventional: there’s no beginning, middle or end, they’re more snippets of situations, extreme characters, songs and mime. Reminiscent of John Kearns’ award-winning Fringe
debut Sight Gags for Perverts, this patently isn’t for everyone. Half Baked balances on a knife edge of genius and mental instability. Uncomfortable and dark, it will alienate as many as it enthrals. Edgy, dangerous, disturbing, confusing and completely unpredictable. (Henry Northmore) ■ Laughing Horse @ The Counting House, 667 7533, until 25 Aug (not 12), 8.45pm, free.
52 THE LIST FESTIVAL 7–14 Aug 2014
Stephen Bailey has had his heart broken and, from his outfit, all signs indicate it bleeds glitter. The camp Manc takes us through the ups and downs of his love life, spinning rejection and heartache into a charming confection. We hear of his coming out (no one was surprised), his misadventures with social media and dating sites, and his less-than-balanced reaction to the end of a relationship.
No gay stereotype is ignored, from the need for
paternal approval to the image of the predator making all the straight men in the vicinity clench their buttocks. It's not necessarily ground-breaking but Bailey’s delivery, end-of-the-pier charm and willingness to nudge-nudge, wink-wink with the audience engenders a lot of good will. A highlight is the section in which he recounts an
epistolary battle with his mobile phone company. At this rate, there must be whole customer service departments employed to deal with comedians creating bits for their shows. Unless they make this stuff up. Surely not? Whether heartfelt or feigned, Bailey’s mix of the tried-and-tested and the inventive ends with a cracking finale wrapping the hour up with a metaphorical, sparkly bow. (Suzanne Black) ■ Gilded Balloon Teviot, 622 6552, until 24 Aug (not 11), 4.15pm, £7.50–£8.50 (£6.50–£7.50).
Under the premise of examining her own optimistic (or not) nature, Tiff Stevenson takes the pulse of the nation and a few well-aimed pot-shots at its ills. From celebrity domination to George Osborne, she offers a politicised rundown of contemporary society which, being both a feminist and a socialist, leaves her less than pleased. The NRA, female objectification and university fees provide plenty of fodder for her vitriol, which is energetically and engagingly delivered.
Amid the left-leaning polemic is more personal material. The story of a recent health scare leads into a defence of the NHS and her use of a Twitter campaign to rekindle the country’s affection for the institution. She also bravely opens up about her previous mental health issues in a way that grounds her political views and ties together her distaste for the amount of media coverage the Kardashians get with a struggle to find meaning in her own life. Though some of the pop culture references are a
little dated, Stevenson manages to find the funny in some of modernity’s biggest flaws, providing something for both the optimists and the pessimists of the world, whether their glass is half empty or not. (Suzanne Black) ■ Gilded Balloon Teviot, 622 6552, until 23 Aug, 9.15pm, £8.50–£10 (£7–£9).