Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

Larry Owens won awards for his starring role in the breakout off-Broadway hit A Strange Loop, about a frustrated large, black, queer man struggling to find space to have his voice heard in an entertainment business that could neither see his talent nor fit it into one of their pigeonholes. And now, in his own one-man show, he takes a look about a frustrated large, black, queer man struggling to find space… you get the idea.

He opens with a bold, catchy number that makes full use of that powerful musical theatre voice, a strong, defiant statement of his place in the world ‘too black for gay people, too white for black people, too fierce for basic people…’ and on and on the list goes. It’s a brilliant introduction to the multi-faceted multi-hyphenate, the perfect way to kick off this high-octane entertainment. 

It leaves no doubt about the validity of ‘songwriter’ as one of those hyphenations and leads into some musical sketches drawn from his experience of pitching tracks to musical A-listers. He captures the voice of Billie Eilish in his bleak song about America’s opioid epidemic, or Lil Nas X singing about his sexuality. And there are some real bangers across the soundtrack to this show, yet still he couldn’t apparently find a berth as a songwriter.

What about comedy then? We get a recreation of the audition tape he sent to SNL featuring impersonations of the likes of Viola Davis, Lupita Nyong’o and Oprah Winfrey. The jokes in that last one might go over a British audience’s head, with its constant references to her Stedman. From context, I presumed it might be a sex toy. A post-show google revealed in to be the name of her partner. Oops.

In his Davis impression, Owens proves he can literally make reading a shopping list funny while also making a sardonic point about how much better black actors have to be than white ones to achieve the same recognition. 

Producers think him too niche. Nor can he conjure up the tragic backstory executives want. Instead, he has to borrow the lyrics of the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme tune, which he sets to a more poignant melody.

The dilemma at the centre of the show is whether Owens should try to beat down the doors of the industry, sticking firmly to who he is, or instead try to play the game and charm his way in, maybe compromise. And charm is definitely his superpower. 

Then what if he does make it? Will he become detached from the experiences that made him the artist he is in the first place? 

His subsequent success is touched upon here, this POC (person of colour) becoming a different form of POC (proof of concept) that creative forces like him can storm the business – although all the issues he so artfully raises are not fully resolved, given what the very top of showbusiness looks like. 

Nonetheless, a reprisal of that sinewy opening number becomes a powerful call to arms for all those who don’t fit neatly into how society’s been structured to celebrate who they are. Don’t compromise on your dreams is something of a pat sentiment for a Fringe show, but the way we get there, via a tour-de-force performance that triggers a standing ovation, is quite something.

Review date: 12 Aug 2023
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Assembly Roxy