Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

It may sound immodest to say so, but it feels like the Chortle Student Comedy Award has unearthed a cracking batch of new comedians again this year. Nothing to do with us, of course, and all to do with the stand-ups who entered.

The final at the Pleasance last night kicked off with a flash of energy from Jack Dearnley, who has a touch of the Russell Brand in his hyperactive delivery. His opening gag about forest fires is darkly imaginative, and his Mr Men routine is a fine example of a disproportionate rage against the petty. A song about masculinity didn’t share the same invention, but he got the night off to a lively start.

‘Me and Jack, we have very different vibes,’ admitted the more conversational Alex Mason, one of many comments that showed her willingness to go off-script and address the energy in the room, including her own infectious giggling.  She’s at home with a corny pun and is friendly and relatable as she uses talk of her ideal man to frame a few other jokes. Her material’s not spectacular yet, but she’s a thoroughly engaging presence.

A little more awkward, Henry Whaley has a witty smart-but-dumb take on binmen and a hopefully exaggerated tale where his social clumsiness definitely got the better of him. The second half of his set was put to a smooth jazz background, giving it the air of a noirish detective voiceover – which is a little distancing for the audience but showcases some creative writing, and enforces a languid pace of delivery.

Even more deadpan, Caitriona Dowden performs in a monotone that reflects the lack of emotion and empathy she describes in her set, including her apparent misunderstanding of the tragedy in the six-word short story attributed to Ernest Hemingway: ‘For sale: baby shoes, never worn.’ This is typical of her unique and imaginative set, which ranges from arguing why Fleabag shouldn’t be hailed as a feminist breakthrough to the words of medieval writer the Monk of Byland. He barely ever comes up on Live At The Apollo – and the distinctiveness of Dowden’s voice combined with her clear attitude led to her taking the first prize.

Jin Hao Li also served up the unexpected, from imagining a spider in a nightclub to a needlessly aggressive rap about a toothbrush. The surrealism can be hit-or-miss, but often leads to a proper punchline in its roundabout style. He’s a little confrontational with the audience – but in a good way, as  leaning right into them, gives the performance added dynamism.

Hasan Al-Habib is probably the slickest of the class of 2022, with a club-ready set based around his Iraqi background, and how Birmingham compares to war-ravaged Baghdad. There are some great jokes here – especially in a story about a visit to the 9/11 memorial in New York – although it would also have been interesting to see what other topics he had in his kitbag. He might not have been placed but I feel he’ll do just fine in comedy.

Charlie Humphrey is a lot less polished, and some of her set-ups – such as comparing possible dates to buffet items – seem contrived. But she has a charming, if underpowered, energy and some relatable content, ending with a depiction of a terrible meditation app.

Something very different next as Stepan Mysko von Schultz took to the stage in a modest vintage dress to perform a monologue in the guise of a woman whose husband is away in the trenches of the First World War. A bit of a slow burner, the routine gradually built thanks to the ingenuity of the writing, mixing anachronisms, surrealism, witty metaphors and a wistful naivety in one appealingly quirky package. He took send place in a crowded field, taking home £250 – the price of a small stately home in 1915…

Ethan Willmer-Anderson’s signature routine, taking literally  the cheesy chat-up premise ‘if I could rearrange the alphabet’ and doing just that, is a similarly inventive one, and quite some feat of memory. Other gags are a patchier, especially his technique of offering up a hoary old dad joke set-up then giving a literal answer – even if it does fit his slightly nerdy persona.

Harry Shannon is a new sort of prop comedian – using bespoke items he 3D-printed himself, making real some memorably absurd and disturbing creations like a comedy Doctor Moreau. There’s another fantastic visual gag as he takes a drink mid-set, and while the stand-up links could benefit from more polish, these set pieces display enjoyably offbeat comedy sensibilities.

And finally Sascha LO in character – we can only hope – as an awfully entitled ex-public schoolgirl telling us about her gap year, and her struggles to find a ‘boyf’ without having any decent male role models to measure potential partners against. It’s a winning variation on the many ‘posh boy’ characters on the comedy circuit: a mild-mannered monster unaware of her own privilege, and with some solid punchlines to boot.

Another act – like all those tonight – we are likely to be seeing a lot more of.

Review date: 16 Aug 2022
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