Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

Alex Kitson has clearly been studying narrative techniques, as he pitches his whole debut around the reveal of his ‘biggest secret’– a moment that happens at around the 45-minute mark and is given the show’s weight to carry on its back.

Until that point (and arguably beyond) this is pretty by-the-numbers Fringe show material. A boy from Devon breaks up with his girlfriend and moves back in with his Mum, prompting the requisite introductory material about who he is (Alex), where he’s from (Devon), and what’s on his mind. I wouldn’t presume to give advice, but I have noticed that if you’re going to do five minutes’ worth of material on your own name and make it work, you really need to have a pretty interesting name.

He has the ADHD-fuelled performance style of a natural comic in that he speaks (and clearly thinks) at a mile a minute, jerking his head around with the floppy hair in tow. The energy is almost Robin Williams level and doesn’t let up until the serious bit at the end, but it’s the kind of energy that often papers over cracks in the writing, as is the case here.

Fundamentally,  there are a few good lines and a reliable stage presence, but they’re not yet being used to say much of interest. Athlete’s foot doesn’t just affect athletes, Hitler must have been weird to date, being named Alex is… well, it doesn’t quite get the blood pumping. 

The old workhorse of the teenage diary comes out at the end, but there’s a severe lack of verisimilitude to this one.

Kitson’s scary-sounding experience in New York forms the emotional crux of the show, but is slightly mis-leveraged here – it should either have been given more room and more jokes, or been cut altogether. As it is, it functions as a screeching tonal U-turn after 45 minutes of high-energy bobbleheading. 

Kitson is the type of comic who could kill a ten-minute slot, but the grasp of structure and tone is not quite there to warrant a full Fringe hour just yet.

Review date: 13 Aug 2024
Reviewed by: Tim Harding
Reviewed at: Hoots @ Potterow