Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

What could possibly draw a Fringe performer to create a show about an artist who spent their life in absolute poverty, unrecognised as one of the world's greatest geniuses?  

Donna Oblongata has gone all-in for her charmingly named Van Gogh Shogh, dressing as the troubled artist as in his haunting 1889 self-portrait, with black fur hat, green coat and a bandage covering the ear he’d sliced open.

The post-impressionist master bursts into this space – apparently now being used to host a 360-degree immersive art experience dedicated to his work – as an impoverished Uber Eats driver, and quickly becomes shocked to learn how much his painting go for these day, and righteously outraged at how unfair it is that others are profiting from him.

Satirical points about the exploitation of art become a little softer as Oblongata turns to its broader commercialisation – and the pressures to supply what the market wants. Vincent’s art dealer brother Theo sounds like countless TV executives when he urges more commercial, mainstream  output. ‘I respect your artistic autonomy,’ he insists. ‘But it freaks people out.’

Themes having been established, the show turns more towards the traditional clown (or even TV gameshow) territory of getting audience members to do something challenging. In this case, recreating the The Starry Night masterpiece with limited time and resources.

Philadelphia-based Oblongata is good with her pupils, largely encouraging them but not beyond a sarcastic comment when required – in the same way she holds understated power over the room yet rolls with the ups and down of crowd interaction.

Away from the tutoring, she portrays Van Gogh as a mardy teenager spoiling for a fight with his parents for not renting him a studio in Paris like Manet’s posh mum and dad did – while other biographical details, such as his lusting over a cousin, are snuck in. You could almost call this educational.

There’s parody, too, of artistic pretension. The painter asks such questions as: ‘What is blue?’ or noting that the moon only reflects light, not generates it, so proving that you can be dead inside and still attractive. Hints of the anxieties that gnaw at almost every artist are also sprinkled across the hour.

Ultimately the message is that artistic endeavour is still worth it, even though all of the pertinent points raised end up rather rather forgotten under the fun but frivolous acts of creating four Starry Nights and, erm, doing karaoke? That ending definitely felt tacked-on.

Still, if you’re looking for an entertaining hour with some ambition to be more than its parts, this is worth a gogh.

Review date: 25 Aug 2026
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett