Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

Cara Connor’s show - like so many others – is all about identity. And the identity that defines her appears to be that of Looney Tunes character.

She’s distinctively animated on stage, leaping around in her frilled cowboy trousers and demonstrating an impressive range of over-the-top voices for those who populate her stories. They range from the ‘fun’ drunk aunt at a post-wedding disco, a creepy uncle, a formal English accent and own untreated childhood speech impediment. If she’s not getting plenty of voice work back in LA, she should fire her agent.

The story she relays here is relatively simple. She was married to a bloke, discovered or accepted she was gay, and now isn’t. What took her so long to wake up is quite the mystery, given that her teenage nickname was ‘Lesbo’. But then she was also brought up Catholic, not a faith exactly known for encouraging people to explore their sexuality.

Although broadly chronological, her story pings from topic to topic, and feels refreshingly loose. We cover her elementary school experience to where she is now, post-divorce, flat-sharing with two 22-year-old boys and dating Gen Zs, who ‘talk too much shit’ and have jobs like ‘anarchist gardener’. Along the way, Connors scoops up all manner of comic observations, from aggressive dad sneezing to ‘save the date’ wedding invitations.

The difference between men and women is an enduring topic in comedy and she is well-placed to offer commentary. It’s hard to date women, she’s concluded, as they know everything – rarely a charge levelled at men. At least not unsarcastically.

As for her, she’s something of an oddball, but owns it well, funnelling her eccentricities into an engaging stage presence, in more control of the chaos than you might think. However, this remains a frivolous rather than a serious account of her journey.

For all her energy, there are lulls. The recreation of a Lindsay Lohan scene from The Parent Trap left me a bit cold, but she won it round – she always does – with her one example of audience participation, recruiting one punter to mimic a prurient old man with a sinister leer.

With a light touch, this is a relatable hour, even if you’ve never accidentally married someone of the wrong gender.

Review date: 12 Aug 2023
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Pleasance Courtyard