Comedy

Oops: Olivia Raine Attwood

16/08/26

Gilded Balloon, Teviot (The Billiard Room), Edinburgh

As we file into the Billiard Room, Olivia Raine Attwood is waiting there to greet us: a lean, hyperactive American in bright orange dungarees. She tells us that she’s an expert in matchmaking, a skill she acquired back in high school. Even from her earliest days, she assures us, she kept journals about her various classmates, listing their attributes and their failings. Indeed, she’s brought said journals along with her and shares pages of them via a PowerPoint display. Heartbreakingly, her teenage self also features prominently in the pages, always listed at the bottom of the league, somebody with no allure, no boobs and therefore no hope of ever attracting a partner.

There are recollections of early dates, most of them ending in disaster – and one man from the audience is enticed onto the stage to recreate a pivotal moment: her first kiss in a boy’s car. Attwood has a quirky physicality, her exaggerated gestures and gawky movements serving to amp up the humour. This is shown to its best effect in an extended sequence depicting a more recent event: she goes for a morning run after eating an Indian meal the night before – and halfway across the (very long) bridge between Brooklyn and Manhattan, suddenly realises she needs to take an urgent dump. As she frantically tries to extricate herself from the situation, her energy becomes ever more exaggerated and the laughter rises.

Okay, so she’s not exactly reinventing the wheel here but, if the object of the exercise is to make the audience laugh out loud, she succeeds in spades. Establishing a great rapport from the get-go, Attwood has us in her perfectly-manicured grip throughout her hour on stage.

Those looking to let off steam via raucous laughter will be sure to find it in Oops.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Shaun Guff: Enuff is Enuff

12/08/26

Hoots Potterow, Edinburgh

Do you want to be happier? More successful? Have you had enuff? If so, get yourself to Shaun Guff’s self-funded seminar. He’s hit rock bottom so you don’t have to, and he’s ready to share his sensational life lessons via a very Y2K PowerPoint.

Guff is the third solo show from talented actor-comedian Clementine Bogg-Hargroves, who clearly isn’t one to keep churning out the same old stuff: the three productions could hardly be more different. 2021’s Skank was a heart-wrenching comic drama about a young woman with extreme health anxiety; 2023’s Please Love Me was an exploration of societal expectations, accompanied by pole dancing. And now here’s a character comedy, featuring an unqualified life coach called Shaun Guff, whose pronouncements are, well… You’ll have to pop along and see for yourself.

Created by Bogg-Hargroves and Lewis Coleman, this is cringe-comedy at its best: think Alan Partridge with a dash of David Brent or Larry David. Guff’s lack of self-awareness is cleverly depicted, the moments of social awkwardness he creates are genuinely mortifying. Bogg-Hargroves is an engaging performer anyway, but she turns that up to eleven in this show, forcing eye contact for just a bit too long, standing just that little bit too close. It’s wonderfully excruciating.

There is some audience participation but don’t let that put you off. Bogg-Hargroves is a lot more sensitive than her alter-ego, and she knows how to pick the right people. (And let’s face it, there’s never a shortage of willing performers watching a Fringe show.)

The show is laugh-out-loud funny from start to finish – a joyous, silly hour of nonsense.

And who knows? It might just open the door to a brand new you.

4.3 stars

Susan Singfield

Kirsty Mann: Corpse

12/08/26

Summerhall, Red Lecture Theatre

Do you believe in ghosts?

Kirsty Mann opens Corpse with that very question and asks the audience to vote one way or the other by raising a hand. I am one of several people who vote ‘no’ without hesitation, even though I’ve published plenty of supernatural fiction over the years, and even won the Scottish Children’s Book Award for The Piper. But do I actually believe in ghosts? Nah.

Mann assures us that what she is about to tell us is a true story, something that recently happened to her. She informs us she’s a doctor – and yes, that’s easy to check; she has long led a double life, working in the NHS as well as doing comedy. Now she wants to tell us about the time when she and her husband, Mark, are thinking about starting a family, but can’t because they are living in a tiny one-room flat in London. She sees this house advertised: a big three-bedroom affair with stairs and everything… and, because it is in such a terrible state of repair, the two of them can just about to afford to buy it.

Okay, so the old woman who owned the house has recently died, and the woman’s sister still lives next door and has a strange habit of standing in the garden at night, eating the apples from an old tree, but… a foot on the property ladder, right? A step up! It’s not to be sneezed at.

So they buy the house.

The set couldn’t be simpler: an old double bed, a heap of assorted junk in the corner and some distinctly dodgy-looking paintings, purportedly the work of the house’s late owner. But Mann doesn’t need a complex set; she’s a fabulous storyteller, taking us through her early days in her new home, the different people she encounters, the strange discoveries she makes. She coaxes laughter from the odd little things that happen to her as she tries to adapt to the unfamiliar environment – but steadily, unsettlingly, her experiences become more and more unnerving, so that all those easy laughs increasingly become interspersed with moments of absolute dread.

I can see how Mann is doing it, of course: simple lighting and sound effects, perfectly-timed jump scares. But somehow, along with everybody else in the packed room, I’m flinching at every new twist. My heartbeat is raised and, on a couple of occasions, it’s all I can do not to jump right out of my seat.

It would be criminal to give any more away. Suffice to say that Corpse is a highly effective piece of storytelling masterfully delivered. It achieves the almost impossible, a perfect blend of laughter and screams. A comedy of terrors, if you will.

And it works like gangbusters.

So, let me ask you a question. Do you believe in ghosts?

5 stars

Philip Caveney

The Shocking Truth about Flat Earth

10/08/26

Pleasance Dome (Queen Dome), Edinburgh

Most years at the Fringe we chance upon a show that’s so unashamedly good-natured and uproariously entertaining that it’s impossible to resist its pull – and more often than not, that show can be found at the Pleasance Dome. Coincidence? Or are there darker forces at work? (Cue eerie music.)

This year, that show rejoices under the unlikely title The Shocking Truth About Flat Earth – and the fact that the Queen Dome is absolutely sold out suggests that word has already got around about this feel-good lunchtime production. Meet Sharon Hargreaves (Emma Norman), a woman of a certain age, who – like a lot of characters at this year’s Fringe – is coming to terms with a bereavement, though in this case, it’s her beloved dog Sam who has… trotted off. Sharon is spending a little too much time on YouTube and is getting particularly interested in the titular topic, because – well, why not? You have to pass the hours somehow. Sharon’s best friend, Debs (Emma Thornett), is worried about Sharon and impulsively books two tickets for a trip to Las Vegas to watch Adele in concert. As you do.

But at the hotel where the twosome are staying, a Flat Earth Society is having a convention and somehow Sharon gets mistaken for guest speaker, Angela (Leonie Wall). Before she quite knows what’s happening, Sharon has er…agreed to lead an expedition to Patagonia to establish once and for all that the world really is flat. Accompanied by dim-witted online influencers, Bobby (Tom Dickerson) and Brodie (Wall, again), along with ‘just-passing-by’ explorer Dave (Michael Joseph), the intrepid Sharon sets off with high hopes and absolutely no skills whatsoever.

With a book and score by Alex Moneypenny and Adam Tuffrey, this Wolverhampton Grand Theatre production takes off at a sprint, Karl Steele ensuring that his directorial foot is kept firmly on the accelerator throughout. The five-strong cast work their socks off to deliver a hilarious and exhilarating series of songs, dances and quick-fire asides. There’s plenty of audience interaction, the singing and dancing is surprisingly impressive and, while we all kind of know that the expedition is going to ultimately slam into a brick wall because… flat earth… it matters not one jot. Bobby, Brodie & Co. have their red Make Earth Flat Again caps on and huge grins on their faces as the audience delivers a heartfelt standing ovation.

If you’re looking for something deep and meaningful, well, maybe look elsewhere. If on the other hand, you’re seeking an hour of pure unadulterated enjoyment, head for the Queen Dome without further delay – and don’t forget to take your protein bars. It’s a long hike to Patagonia.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

Cathy

09/08/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Cathy has all the hallmarks of a sitcom: distinctive characters, familiar settings and a serious of humorous conflicts. Like the best of the genre, it also carries some real emotional weight.

The eponymous Cathy (Elaine C Smith) is based on writer-director Eilidh Loan’s own grandmother. She’s a spiky, complicated woman, struggling to deal with the death of her beloved husband, Tommy. She’s angry in her grief, lashing out at everyone she cares for: her daughter, Florence (Michele Gallagher), son-in-law, Colin (Alan Orr), and pregnant granddaughter, Amy (Chloe Hodgson).

She’s furious with God too. She’s been a good Catholic all her life, done everything He’s asked. So where is He when she needs Him? Cathy is adrift, unable to imagine a future without Tommy. But when she takes his clothes to the local charity shop, she meets an unlikely angel of deliverance in the form of Lizzie (Sally Reid), who manages the store. Boho, woo-woo and musically ignorant, Lizzie isn’t the sort of person Cathy normally warms to. But there’s something disarming about the cheerful, crystal-wearing volunteer – and Lizzie has her own experience of devastating loss.

I don’t usually like a stage full of props, but Kenny Miller’s set design perfectly complements the play’s themes: the stuff that accumulates over a long life; the items we cling to and those we have to learn to let go. The transitions are complicated but extremely well-managed, so that we move with ease between realistic sets, from funeral home to Cathy’s dining room to Lizzie’s busy, bustling shop.

Unsurprisingly, this is very much Cathy’s play, and Smith’s performance is flawless, allowing us to see the central character’s hidden warmth and vulnerability, as well as delivering every gag with deadly precision. The supporting cast are very good too, Reid in particular lighting up the stage.

Cathy makes me laugh and cry. Part Christmas play, part family drama, it feels like the start of something bigger, with characters that could easily be drawn out over a series.

If you want all the feels, this is the show for you.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Bog Witch

09/08/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Bog Witch is an elusive concept that initially wrong-foots me. The opening minutes of Bryony Kimmings’ semi-autobiographical show are like a gentle stand-up routine, built around the idea of a contemporary woman, addicted to doom-scrolling and online-ordering, pouring scorn on all those silly people wringing their hands over climate change and plastic pollution. All they really need to do is knock back some alcohol and get out on the dance floor! But happily, as it develops, the story turns out to be much more nuanced than that.

Kimmings relates the events of one year in her life, when she falls in love with ‘Will,’ a man with an urgent need to get back to the soil, where he can grow his own food and live at peace with the land. To Kimmings, it sounds like a perfect nightmare but she loves Will and, against her better judgement, decides to move with him to the countryside. They each have a child from a previous relationship and fresh starts are good, right? What can possibly go wrong? She just needs to ensure that she doesn’t turn into the titular creature…

As the year unfolds, season by season, Kimmings gamely attempts to adapt to her new life – and, despite all her misgivings, she is beginning to change…

Kimmings has clearly put her heart and soul into this, taking the directorial reins and really exploring the possibilities of the central concept – and trust me, it’s a lot more fun than I’ve made that sound. She’s assisted by a whole team of talented individuals: Tom Rogers’ set and costume designs are fabulous, as are the linking animations from Raf Vartanian and Nathan Fernée. In addition, Tom Parkinson has written some suitably plaintive folk songs, which Kimmings sings beautifully.

She’s an accomplished storyteller, acerbically funny in the earlier sections and confidently steering her ship into darker waters as a bleak autumn heads inexorably into a tragic winter. My only reservation here is with a concluding section where she invites nine audience members to join her on stage for ‘the great council meeting.’ Though there are some magnificent costumes for the participants to put on (with masks by Kiera Saunders), the lengthy set-up disrupts the momentum and I find myself wondering if it would work just as well with fewer participants. But that’s a niggle, really, because Kimmings does make it work – and naturally two shows are never going to be the same.

Bog Witch is an accomplished production with so much to commend it. Anyone toying with the idea of moving out to the sticks might want to check this out first. Or be like Kimmings and watch that helpful documentary before you head off. You know the one: The Wicker Man.

4.5 stars

Philip Caveney

Inter Alia: NT Live

07/09/25

Cineworld, Edinburgh

What Suzie (Miller) Did Next was bound to garner a lot of attention. The mega-success of Prima Facie, starring the inimitable Jodie Comer, has catapulted the Aussie playwright into the limelight, and left the theatre world waiting with baited breath to see what else she has up her silk sleeve.

Inter Alia, a three-hander starring Rosamund Pike, serves as a kind of companion piece to the 2019 monologue, this time examining the legal system’s response to sexual assault from the vantage point of the Bench. Pike plays Judge Jessica Parks, a high-flying professional, juggling work and family life. She’s got the drive and energy to give both her all, but there’s no escaping ‘mom guilt’, however feminist you are. Still, she and her barrister husband, Michael (Jamie Glover), seem to be managing well: their teenage son, Harry (Jasper Talbot), isn’t exactly happy – he doesn’t really fit in at school and is the victim of some mild bullying – but he’s generally okay, mooching through his days and studying for A levels. He’s a gentle, sensitive boy, nothing like the entitled defendants Jess encounters in court, with their swaggering justifications for rape…

Until, one fateful night, when the ideals Jessica has long-espoused are suddenly called into question, along with her integrity. Who is to blame when a floundering young man commits a crime? And is it possible to be guilty and innocent at the same time?

Prima Facie‘s director, Justin Martin, is back on board for this follow-up polemic, and it’s just as gorgeously kinetic as the earlier piece, perfectly encapsulating the frantic nature of Jess’s life as she hurtles from conviction to kitchen, from case files to karaoke. The set, designed by Miriam Buether, is ingenious, a combination of the domestic and the professional, with props, costumes and doorways cunningly concealed in the kitchen units. At key moments, a wooded park is revealed beyond the dominant interiors, a glimpse into the outside world – both real and online – where Jessica isn’t in control, and which Harry has to learn to navigate for himself.

This is a gentler play than its predecessor, but no less audacious or thought-provoking. Pike is extraordinary in the lead role, and ably supported by her fellow actors. Miller doesn’t offer any easy answers or let anyone off the hook, but she expertly straddles the fine line between trying to understand assailants without diminishing their victims. Like those around us, we leave the cinema deep in discussion, trawling through our own experiences, trying to work out what we would do in Judge Jessica’s place.

I’m still not sure. But I do solemnly, sincerely and truly declare and affirm that Inter Alia is another searing commentary on our times, and – as such – another must-see from the National Theatre.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

Wodehouse in Wonderland

22/08/25

Assembly George Square (Studio 3), Edinburgh

Not so much an impersonation as a celebration, Robert Daws is clearly having a whale of a time in William Humble’s Wodehouse in Wonderland, and, after a few minutes of uncertainty while I tune in to the tone of the piece, so am I. Wodehouse is, of course, one of those writers who almost defy belief: incredibly prolific, very successful in his own lifetime – but remembered now for the accusations levelled at him for his ‘collaboration’ with the Nazis during World War Two.

We meet him in the 1950s, living in exile in Long Island and reluctant to return to his British homeland. He’s still writing fiction (though a book now takes him six months rather than three) and he’s also hankering after another shot at writing for the theatre with his old partner, Guy Bolton, who lives nearby.

Daws offers a relaxed and jovial performance as Wodehouse, mixing martinis as he talks, expressing his intense dislike for the great Russian authors (too gloomy) and making slyly humorous observations about his wife, Bunny’s profligacy. He also speaks lovingly about his adopted daughter, Leonora – or ‘Snorkles’ as he prefers to call her – who he claims is his ‘Number 1 critic.’

He talks – with great reluctance – to his American biographer, who eventually nudges him in the direction of that unfortunate business with the Germans… and, lest the tone grow too serious, every so often, Daws interrupts proceedings to launch into a rendition of one of the author’s comic songs.

Wodehouse in Wonderland is a revelation in many ways. I was a fan of Jeeves and Wooster back in the day and read several of their adventures when (just like Wodehouse in his youth) I was sequestered in a rather unpleasant boarding school. I learn quite a lot about the author over the hour and realise that I have been misinformed about that ‘collaboration’ business – so it’s nice to have the record set straight.

Towards the conclusion, there’s also a moment of sweet sadness, which Daws handles with absolute assurance. While this may be best suited to those familiar with Wodehouse’s work, it’s not essential. Those looking to spend a pleasant and rewarding hour on the Fringe should find plenty here to keep them thoroughly entertained.

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney

Fly, You Fools!

16/08/25

Pleasance Courtyard (Beyond), Edinburgh

New York-based theatre company Recent Cutbacks specialise in producing no-budget parodies of epic films. Last year, their Hold Onto Your Butts (an unlicensed version of Jurassic Park) gave us plenty of cheap laughs and, as predicted in our review, they’ve returned with that show – and also a companion piece, Fly, You Fools!, their interpretation of Peter Jackson’s The Fellowship of the Rings.

Three performers – Nick Abeel, Kyle Schafer and Regan Sims – team up with Foley artist Kelly Robinson, plus a collection of props that look like they’ve been salvaged from the back of a wardrobe, and do their damnedest to perform a version of the movie for a packed crowd at the Pleasance.

I have to confess to being a fan of the Rings trilogy, which for three years of my life were a birthday go-to for me and my daughter – but I can’t deny that they have more than their fair share of pomposity and illogical happenings, which makes them fair game for a debunk. Clearly today’s audience is in full agreement. There’s raucous laughter as the performers switch from character to character and height to height, doing their level best to depict Frodo and his crew making their way to Mordor – or as they prefer to say it, Morrrrrrdddddoooooor.

And yes, that most pertinent of questions does get a mention: why didn’t they just fly there there on the back of an eagle and save themselves a lot of hassle?

The story was developed by Matt Zambrano and directed by Kristen McCarthy Parker. It’s a fun way to spend an hour but is it as strong as HOYB? For my money, Fly, You Fools! doesn’t er… land quite as effectively as its predecessor – a lengthy sequence featuring crap shadow theatre slows down the pace somewhat – but there are close to three hundred people at Beyond who appear to be having the time of their lives.

Mission accomplished. (Now there’s a franchise they might have some fun with…)

3.8 stars

Philip Caveney

Lachlan Werner: Wondertwunk

15/08/25

Pleasance Dome (10 Dome), Edinburgh

Originality counts for a great deal at the Fringe and I have to say that Lachlan Werner has that commodity in spades. We’re here to catch his act mostly because a publicist we work with casually mentioned that she thought it would be ‘right up our street.’ The fact that it so definitely is probably says something about us, because this is utterly weird – but, I should add, in a good way. And it’s clear from the audience reaction that we’re far from the only ones delighted by what we’re viewing.

Werner plays Jack Hammer, the Strongest Boy in the World. He might not look the type to be lifting weights and bending steel bars, what with his impeccably-plaited curls, his grotesquely-painted features and his cupids-bow lips; and yet, thanks to some shonky-looking props, he manages these macho skills with ease. He performs every night in a circus owned by his clearly dodgy dad (depicted by a monstrous life-sized puppet), and his only friend in the world is a talented sea lion called Slippy, who, it turns out, can balance wine glasses on his nose.

Werner is a gifted ventriloquist, able to switch from his own cartoonish little voice to his dad’s gruff tones (or the distinctive bark of a sea lion) with apparent ease – and, while on paper the ‘jokes’ are simply a string of lame puns and outlandish boasts, there’s something so utterly beguiling in Werner’s delivery that I find myself laughing helplessly along from start to finish.

There are elements of horror in the story which put me in mind of the theatre of Grand Guignol, as Jack slowly begins to uncover grisly secrets about his father and, ultimately, himself. A guy from the audience is invited onto the stage to become his assistant and ends up as the object of his affection, an integral part of the show, as Werner flirts outrageously with him. By the show’s final stages, the entire audience is cheering Jack on, wanting him to to vanquish the powers of evil, to find a new identity and a suitably happy ending.

This show takes me completely by surprise and I’m fairly confident that other first-timers will have the same experience. One thing’s for certain: unless you’re already a fan of Lachlan Werner, you won’t have seen anything quite like it before. It’s sublime.

5 stars

Philip Caveney