Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

Goblins starts off as a comedy of sweetly awkward adolescence, but ends so bleakly that the increasingly bitter humour can no longer penetrate the gloom.

Derek Mitchell couldn’t look more perfect as Elliot, a 15-year-old emo kid in Decatur, Illinois, in 2007, with his Noel Fielding haircut, skinny jeans, chequered wristbands and Jack Skellington T-shirt, his massive innocent eyes heightened by dramatic eyeshadow.

Goblin is his imaginary friend, played by us, the audience, though it’s never quite sure what energy he wants from us, some punters are too eager, some too reticent.

He tells us all about his bestie Mia and his family – his mum with her weird diets and his dad with his conspiracy theories – both of whom are distant following the tragic death of his brother, a defining moment mentioned almost only in passing. 

Then there’s the awkward sexual awakening at Christian summer camp where he fell for a counsellor. His account is peppered with pop culture references and the sort of gags you might expect a teenage boy to enjoy.

Mitchell’s so convincing at portraying Elliot that the whole show feels entirely autobiographical (although in interviews the performer has said it’s only loosely based on his own upbringing).  The connection is such that when he confides in us that he feels unlovable, it’s genuinely heartbreaking.

That vulnerability makes him the perfect victim for a controlling British reality TV star he hooks up with in a nightclub, the start of an agonisingly coercive relationship defined by a toxicity Elliot is entirely unaware of. Life with this meth-smoking fitness influencer called Max is misery, and as  weeks slip into years the tender teen evolves into a nihilistic, empty young man. 

It’s painful to watch Elliot make so many bad choices to remain under the influence of this appalling emotional bully. Max drains the humanity and self-effacing wit out of Elliot, making life, and the show, ever-grimmer. No wonder Goblin is categorised as theatre rather than comedy, despite Mitchell's work as a stand-up and the comedic elements of the first act.

Getting a Brazilian butt lift to please his partner is a bleak pantomime  – a visual comedy sketch without a laugh track – and when it becomes infected it’s just another step towards the oblivion of his soul.

The performance is compelling, keeping the audience  transfixed despite the heat of the venue, and the fact the actor’s relationship with us as Goblin remains a bumpy one. Mitchell displays a fine-tuned physicality throughout and a tender naivety as the young Elliot that engenders huge empathy. Although in the final act you might want for more understanding as to why he would stick with Max, a one-dimensional villain in every way. 

However, there’s no doubt this monologue – back at the Fringe following a limited run in a yurt last year – is a fine showcase for Mitchell’s outstanding talents as an actor.

Review date: 26 Aug 2025
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Summerhall