FESTIVAL COMEDY | Reviews
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ROB AUTON: THE HAIR SHOW Hirsute funniness from the genre-bending comic ●●●●●
Rob Auton is nothing if not committed to his craft. Since September, he’s been growing his hair and beard for his latest hour and he’s not going to stop until the very last performance. Not just in August: ever. Much to his parents’ ire, he’s got a few bookings for next spring already. His previous Fringe outings have also focused on one theme: yellow (The Yellow Show), water (The Water Show), sleep (you get the gist). But The Hair Show is one of his best yet. With his face already reaching Brian Blessed-levels of hairiness, Auton saunters on stage donned in a cape dripping with fake hair and an even hairier tie. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was auditioning to play a wildling.
Instead, he launches into a typically meandering set of jokes, poetic musings and playful crowd interactions touching on a range of hirsute themes, from his mixed feelings about hairdressers to the way people’s perceptions of him have changed since he’s grown more dishevelled.
As always, it’s endearingly shambolic but artfully put together. It feels like Auton is growing into his chaotic form; the final third particularly is the closest he’s got to a cohesive stand-up set in the last few years, and had some in the crowd experiencing uncontrollable giggles. Today, his audience game is on point too: he turns the dial from hysterical to really very sad (there are tears) with ease, and he makes light, hilarious work of the reviewer in his front row taking conspicuous notes. Auton is a generous, charming performer, with a strong
fanbase, but if you’re new to his work, The Hair Show is an excellent start. It’s a warm, wonderful hour that proves there’s no one quite like him at the Fringe. (Yasmin Sulaiman) ■ Just the Tonic at The Caves, until 26 Aug (not 14), 3.55pm, £5 or Pay What You Want.
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CARMEN LYNCH: LYNCHED A sour and lacklustre set ●●●●●
CHRISTOPHER BLISS: WRITING WRONGS Fine character creation from Rob Carter ●●●●● SIMON EVANS: GENIUS Magnificently pessimistic hour ●●●●●
She may be playing in one of the Fringe’s balmiest cupboards, but Carmen Lynch’s stage persona borders on the chilly. Dubbing stand-up as a lot like therapy where she’s complaining in a room to people who can’t leave, Lynch certainly does a lot of whining. All of which would be fine if it was backed up by memorable punchlines, but there’s not a whole heap of them kicking about in Lynched. Among the stuff that gets on Lynch’s wick are public displays of affection, the morning-after pill and unnecessary use of ‘super’ (which doesn’t stop her from describing her mother as ‘super-Spanish’). Somewhat sadly, she receives her biggest laugh in the final minute for drawing attention to the fact that she looks a bit like Mr Bean.
But it’s Lynch’s attitude to her gathering that leaves behind a little sour note; it’s unclear what benefit there is to having a go at an audience for looking at her in a curious manner. Maybe we’re all on the edge of our seats just waiting for the jokes. Still, the fact that Amy Schumer thinks she’s the bees knees will more than compensate for any negativity coming her way from Edinburgh crowds. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Laughing Horse @ The Counting House, until 27 Aug, 4pm, free.
48 THE LIST FESTIVAL 17–28 Aug 2017
Christopher Bliss might claim to be an author but he falls down on the most basic of levels. For one thing, most writers know the difference between novels and chapters, but this gap in his knowledge is just one failing of the ignorant Bliss. Sending us on our way with a copy of ‘A Murder and a Robbery at the Same Time on the Train from London to Shropshire’, Bliss has to deal early on with a walk-out from a couple who were presumably here believing that a book event was taking place. Where once human civilisation had the genius of Albert Einstein, John Stuart Mill and Plato, now we have memes and ‘motivational quotes about fish’. This troubles Simon Evans who, observing the modern world, doesn’t like what he sees one bit and wants to get some things off his chest. After an hour in Evans’ company, you’ll come round to his infectious pessimism. Genius is a magnificent work that has Evans castigating our political leaders, skewering the DUP, and wondering what the hell led us to consume mindless television like Love Island.
So lovingly crafted has Rob Carter moulded Bliss This obsession with decline stems from Evans’
that such a reaction is not a surprise: the book he hands out contains his mobile number just in case you want to keep in touch with Bliss during Fringe time. After his initial gambit of a spooky ghost story, it’s clear that another spirit haunts this place: saddled with slightly impeded vocals and hampered with a vaguely over-enthusiastic superiority, Bliss has more than a touch of the Rik Mayalls about him.
Conjuring up fictional characters such as Peter Book, Moira Wisp and Nicholas Bigboy, Bliss leads us in recreating some excerpts for this often hilarious depiction of a man who believes his own hype. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Voodoo Rooms, until 27 Aug, 2.55pm, free.
own physical and mental faculties being supposedly past their sell-by date. We can take him on his word, but his ability to tell a joke is untempered. Cloaked in corduroy, he sips from a whisky glass and delivers an unrelenting deconstruction of everything that’s wrong with us. No one is safe. Genius contains two routines in particular that have the room howling with laughter. Evans is so hilarious that you stop caring whether he’s on your exact political wavelength. It feels insignificant. Genius is a formidably funny show of fantastic intellect. (Craig Angus) ■ Assembly George Square Studios, until 27 Aug, 8.20pm (& 9.40pm 18 Aug) , £13–£14 (£12–£13).