Jen Brister: Under Privilege

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VENUE: Monkey Barrel Comedy

TIME: 7:45pm – 8:45pm, 1–25 Aug, not 12

TICKETS: £7 – £8

The uncertain future of an unstable world will naturally lead to existential crises and a serious consideration of whether children should be brought into the world, and how they should be raised. Jen Brister is discussing motherhood at this year’s festival. In her own way she’s made a slick comedy show, taking on society’s problems and discussing her own role as a parent as part of that big picture. In short, how can she avoid raising "two little bellends"?

Under Privilege is sentimental in small doses. Brister is honest about the challenge of raising kids, from the boring repetition of stints at the playpark, the claustrophobic nature

Chris McGlade: Forgiveness

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VENUE: Laughing Horse @ City Cafe

TIME: 9:15pm – 10:15pm, 1–25 Aug

TICKETS: FREE of taking a holiday, to the lack of stimulating conversation ("we have nothing in common", is how she boils it down). There’s love in this show; but Brister also considers what happens when children are raised to do whatever they want without fear of consequences. Or indeed when adults (mostly rich, white men) are bailed out of tricky situations by wealthy parents. An attack on Toby Young might be classifiable as shooting "evil looking Heston Blumenthal lookalikes" in a barrel, but Brister is spot on with it. Brister, a gay woman, turns it back on herself, considering the middle-class luxuries she’s afforded even in a white man’s world. This is the joy of Under Privilege. Brister’s conscious the festival is an echo chamber. She isn’t afraid to be confrontational with us and knows there’s no value in low-hanging fruit. Self-aware and whip smart, this is a commanding, authoritative hour. ✏︎ Craig Angus

In one respect, Chris McGlade’s latest hour is a typical Fringe offering, in that he’s mining personal trauma for his narrative. Yet the Middlesbrough grandfather isn’t your typical standup. He’s a product of the working men’s club circuit and avowed sceptic of oversensitive, political correctness. Moreover, the pain he’s exorcising is the brutal murder of his father.

And his challenge has been twofold. How can he justify forgiving his father’s killer? And how can he make it funny?

Performing off-mic in his intimate venue, the expressive McGlade appeals directly to his audience, imploring them to engage with his tale. Offering a comprehensive, unvarnished tableaux of a working-class family with dark Irish blood in their veins and domestic violence, criminality and marital tension lurking in the background, he nevertheless finds plentiful humour in their eccentricities and contradictions, sharp-elbowed laughter their coping mechanism when times have been hardest. McGlade’s relationship with his late father was particularly complicated. His dad’s outward difficulty in expressing affection and crushing of his son’s adolescent dream, yet generous, forgiving nature, leading inexorably to this show being performed.

McGlade has had other serious struggles in his life. And while he may not have always reacted in his best interests, his instinctive recourse to jokes in his bleakest moments is self-evidently cathartic and has gone a long way towards making him the accomplished storyteller he is now, a twinkle in his eyes reinforcing his stated optimism for what lies ahead. ✏︎ Jay

Richardson

Garry Starr Conquers Troy

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VENUE: Underbelly, Cowgate

TIME: 8pm – 9pm, 1–25 Aug, not 12, 19

TICKETS: £11.50 – £12.50

Garry Starr leads a masterclass in silliness. Dressed as a gladiator with a Shakespearean ruff, Damien Warren-Smith’s character creation guides us through a series of dramatic exercises where unapologetically dumb wordplay turns the tropes of a failed actor into cackles and lettuce-covered mayhem.

Following his debut solo show,

Eleanor Morton: Post-Morton HHHH

VENUE: The Stand Comedy Club 3 & 4

TIME: 12:05pm – 1:05pm, 1–25 Aug, not 12, 19

TICKETS: £10

Eleanor Morton says a few times that she’s no good at structure, but it turns out to be a red herring as the narrative threads weave in and out. Post Morton is a portrait of where she is now in life. At 27 her friends are getting married and having babies.

There are tales of hen party hell and Morton’s irresponsible attitude to babysitting. She is still single, sitting about in her pants watching the wildlife eat from the birdfeeder stuck to her window and generally getting to grips

Garry Starr Performs Everything, Warren-Smith returns with his overly-confident alias. A consistently out-of-work actor, Starr faux earnestly takes us through the chapters of his upcoming new book, An Actor Pretends. The Greeks invented acting, he says, but he wants to return to the good old days of pretending. Spitting on method acting, he unloads his utterly awful tips and tricks. Delightfully groan-worthy puns are made literal as he catches an agent with a physical casting net. Each chapter leads to a new dose of chaos. Pathetically hopeful and stubbornly proud, Starr is the perfect host of anarchy.

There’s a heavy focus on with being an adult. It’s familiar comedy territory particularly for Morton’s generation. Plus there’s another niggle to her life – her sister is clinically depressed. Morton’s need, as the older sibling, to resolve her sister’s illness is an undercurrent running through the hour.

Despite her youth—this is already her fifth Edinburgh show in six years—there’s no dip in quality for Morton’s prolific act. There’s bite here too, espeically on some common-sense feminism within a routine on the incredulity of male friends at the #MeToo revelations and in her views on marriage. Elsewhere there are digs at white privilege. But a particularly enjoyable inclusion in the show is her depiction of her conservationist dad, portrayed as a deadpan, practical foil to any of his daughter’s joyful sentimentalism towards animals. ✏︎

Marissa Burgess

audience participation. He may have forgotten to put it on the posters but there’s a high chance his floppy penis may at any moment waggle near your face, possibly while he hand-feeds you dinner. And beware: after a gag about absorbing his lines, you might want to be careful where his hands have been.

While it makes such good use of theatrical conceits, much of the set focuses on acting for film, with boldly punny movie references and double entendres shoehorned in at every corner. His acting career may be doomed, but his comedy is gold. In this one-man show, Starr is a worthy protagonist. Why go to the cinema when you’ve got it all here? ✏︎

Kate Wyver