US comedian's show about grief

Directly mining grief and other traumas for comedy is so commonplace now, it’s almost more noteworthy when a comedian doesn’t draw on such experiences.

Sam Morrison’s contribution to the genre – covering the death of his partner from Covid – has certainly attracted some heavyweight support. Sugar Daddy counts Alan Cumming and Billy Porter as star-name executive producers, while its director is Amrou Al-Kadhi. The acclaimed comedy performance artist has overseen some changes between this show’s Edinburgh Fringe debut in 2022, when emotions were still raw, and its new run at London’s Underbelly Boulevard, though it still doesn’t run that smoothly.

The show is not the most artful example of its type, despite Morrison’s obvious charms and a decent smattering of great lines. Instead, its USP is the way it puts a horny, hedonistic gay lifestyle front and centre. Morrison met his partner Jonathan at Spooky Bear, a sexy hook-up festival held in the queer enclave of Provincetown, Massachusetts, and that randy spirit permeates the show.

We don’t actually get to know Jonathan all that well beyond the fact that he’s chubby and older, just the way Morrison likes ’em. The Florida-born, New York-based comic tells us his lover was always high on life - not MDMA, as Morrison initially suspected – but it’s more tell than show. That said, the affection is apparent, and there’s a tenderly described scene of them barking their love in nonsensical affirmations that conveys that very effectively.

Morrison’s frequently-used technique is to cut between emotional expressions of his loss and either graphic sexual descriptions or the sort of arch, acidic quip you might associate with an aloof drag queen. Sometimes this works well, but some of the transitions are jarring and the device is certainly overused. The disarmingly blunt dick jokes that got us to like him become a barrier to us loving him.

Having the voice of his therapist/inner critic interrupt is also a clumsily used device, and sometimes the interjections are so terse we barely catch what’s being said, it’s just a jarring interruption.

However, the point this voice makes about Morrison’s inability to address the reality of the situation, is central to both the show and its flaws. That reluctance, after all, is why he succumbs to the sex gags so readily to deflect real feelings. Yet he doesn’t need to. Once he has us on side, there’s plenty of  unexplored space for him to reveal the real him beneath the shallow surface of sex and drugs and campness, yet he keeps pulling back.

That said, Morrison also serves up plenty of pithy observations across the hour-and-a-bit that come from truth and land hard. His cynical view of what grief means to an always-on performer, his description of the imbalance between tops and bottoms in the gay community and his mother stumbling over gender terminology are all splendid highlights that demonstrate an astute comedy instinct. That’s the tool he has to process his grief, too, and the more delicately he uses it, the better the monologue.

• Sam Morrison: Sugar Daddy at Underbelly Boulevard until April 4

Review date: 11 Mar 2026
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Underbelly Boulevard