list.co.uk/festival Reviews | FESTIVAL COMEDY
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ELF LYONS: SWAN Puzzling yet captivating slapstick ●●●●● NAOMI SHELDON: GOOD GIRL Uplifting show about tight friendship ●●●●●
She plays a shark, lizard and several swans at the same time, stripteases an audience member, speaks Frenglish, and completely changes the ending of Swan Lake. In short, Elf Lyons is one of the most bizarre yet captivating stand-up comics at this year’s Fringe. After leaping onto the stage in a parrot costume to the sounds of Notorious B.I.G, she explains (in French, or English: we’re not quite sure) the basic concept of ballet. The audience are then taken through all three acts of Swan Lake, but not quite how Tchaikovsky intended. Her interpretation of the ballet is so beyond the bounds of possibility that it perfectly captures her obscure likeability. Stressing her annoyance at the use of mime in traditional ballet, she comically commentates scenes to clarify any confusion; none of which is any benefit to those puzzled from the moment she arrived.
Lyons is a master of her game, and although not everyone’s cup of tea, her self-assurance and natural style is admirable. Or as she puts it, ‘even if you don’t find me funny, we can all agree that I’d make a great imaginary friend’. An hour of sheer, silly fun with well-timed slapstick. (Louise Stoddart) ■ Underbelly Med Quad, until 28 Aug (not 15), 9.30pm, £9–£10 (£8–£9).
GG has been told she is, or should be, a ‘good girl’ many times in her life, but what exactly do they expect? And should she conform? This is a beautifully penned one-woman show from Naomi Sheldon. From its opening evocative scene of a moment of rebellion at a swimming gala and taking us through her teenage years in Sheffield before moving to London for her literature degree, all of it explores her emotional response: or lack of it.
The entire enjoyable hour is poetically conjured and precisely performed, particularly the uncannily depicted tight female friendship between the four friends whose ‘emergency conferences’ are convened on Laura’s pink bedroom carpet, usually to frankly discuss something newly discovered about their vaginas.
But the main theme snaking through the show is GG’s struggle with overwhelming emotion not just in the turmoil of adolescence but beyond too; she feels anger, sadness or joy so fiercely it feels like it’s going to break out of her skin. A perfectly pitched and utterly identifiable debut, this moving, feisty and uplifting show proves that Naomi Sheldon is certainly one to watch. (Marissa Burgess) ■ Just The Tonic at The Mash House, until 27 Aug (not 14), 1pm, £6–£8 (£5–£6) or Pay What You Want.
DAN ANTOPOLSKI: RETURN OF THE DAN ANTOPOLSKI A stirring return Fringe comeback ●●●●●
After a seven-year gap from doing solo shows, Dan Antopolski returns to the Fringe. He’s been busy doing sketch comedy and kids telly, for anyone wondering, and also went through a difficult separation. His description of the ‘cloud of hatred’ descending on the ‘ghoulish simulacrum’ of what was once a happy relationship is dark and eloquently to-the-bone. The horror is palpable as he talks of ‘muffled screams’ coming from his soul before he and his ex split, but six years on, he’s able to spin comedy gold out of that traumatic phase. He talks affectionately (and cuttingly) about
bringing up his daughters, and recognises his own gothic and absurd leanings in each of their senses of humour. He also touches on the therapy that’s helped him get a better handle on his feelings. Now when he and his male friends get together, ‘there’s a lot of oestrogen in the room’, he nods. As ever, his wordplay is excellent (probably through training from his ‘Scrabble nemesis’ mum) and there is still plenty room for jokes about embarrassing moments with his genitals among the sincere, sage stuff too. (Claire Sawers) ■ Assembly George Square Studios, until 27 Aug, 9.15pm, £10–£12 (£9–£11).
ANNIE SERTICH: HOW TO NOT KILL YOURSELF FOR 30 DAYS . . . AND THE NEXT 330 A gloomy tale lifted by an effervescent approach ●●●●●
Americans at the Fringe have mined a rich seam from their own misery in recent times. Last year Chris Gethard charmed watchers with his morbid story of crippling mental health issues, and Sean Patton is currently storytelling the hell out of severe frailties, natural disasters and road accidents. To that list you can safely add Annie Sertich. This actor and improv star of the legendary Groundlings troupe in LA has been through quite the wringer on her road to this Edinburgh debut (and hats off to her for, more or less, pronouncing Scotland’s capital city correctly).
Cheated on not once, but twice, by her video-games obsessed husband, the trauma and paranoia she suffers leads Sertich to thinking she might be better off not being on this planet. Battling suicidal thoughts, she comes up with a day-to-day plan to stave off ending her life. Sounds like a depressing hour, right? Well, not in Sertich’s capable hands as she effervescently walks us through the story of how she got to that desperate point.
As she teases with a couple of false happy-ish endings, we
are drawn into the moving story of her relationship with her dad. Through old slides (not for nothing was she known as Tan Ann as a teenager), and a thankfully brief introductory appearance from a life-coach character, we get the context of Sertich’s less than charmed life (as a jobbing actor she had to consider such artistic triumphs as an ad for I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter) while she takes comfort from sharing Nicolas Cage’s birthday and seeing Luke Wilson almost everywhere. The joy of Sertich’s debut is in the details, forming a fascinating
collective, which make this a satisfying show as she portrays friends and family with levity and love. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, until 27 Aug (not 14), 8.30pm, £9.50–£12.50 (£8.50–£11.50).
10–17 Aug 2017 THE LIST FESTIVAL 51