Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

By this point there have been plenty of comedy shows about cancer, but Grace Helbig’s is among the most high-energy and raucous.

She is a former YouTuber – in fact, she was one of the first – which is often a red flag in the live arena. But she’s not only a mesmerisingly high-impact performer, she’s got sharp comic observations and proper jokes – and lots of them.

Before the illness struck, she was already struggling with the demands of being a  content creator, finding herself trapped by the limited online version of herself she had created years before. Therapy helped – she says she enjoys it as a hobby far more engaging than knitting – and drops in all the buzzwords  from the field about ‘holding space’ for her ‘lived experience’, tongue in cheek. 

The comedian similarly mocks the potentially mawkish ‘white woman on a healing journey’ narrative, well aware that’s exactly what she is, following her breast cancer diagnosis at 37.

Yes, in its early moments the wittily-titled Let Me Get This Off My Chest can sometimes feel like a TED Talk, but a very good, very funny one, artfully structured with the empowering message of survival matched by self-deprecating anecdotes and full-on act-outs which she throws herself into, body and soul.

Understandably, some of the jokes are quite bleak as she talks about her medical travails, and how the system is not always great at breaking bad news or explaining test results. At times Helbig – who wrongly thought she didn’t have the build to conquer cancer – felt like an anonymous component in the treatment machine, though there are advantages of barely having to think for yourself.

The story has its poignant moments, of course, as devastating news is broken, but once the impact is felt, she never lingers, moving on to the next big incident.

As with any medical story, the savage stripping of personal dignity is a comedic fuel, and Helbig  fills up on it. Her story of giving a stool sample is especially bleak, reducing her to a helpless, animalistic version of herself. With the healing passage of time, this is spun into comedy gold, backed by her hugely animated performance. 

Even when recalling the grimmest of incidents, the charismatic Helbig beams with an upbeat energy that feels warm and genuine, to the extent that she’s almost grateful for the experience for teaching her a lot about herself. Spreading that positivity across the hour – with more than enough self-deprecation to ever feel like she’s selling any sort of glib message – makes this a delight.

Review date: 6 Aug 2025
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Pleasance Dome