Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

Much of Sam See’s previous work has revolved around his sexuality, which was, until two years ago, illegal in his native  Singapore. For that, and many other reasons, he increasingly felt like he didn’t belong there, and so has sought to make the UK his home.

With its unwieldy title, And I Can’t Feel At Home In This World Anymore – the name of a gospel song that’s also inspired an indie comedy-thriller film – is therefore See’s immigrant journey. One he made because of the opportunities on the British comedy circuit, as well as sharing our sarcastic sense of humour, unlike so many of his ever-businesslike countrymen.

Where the dapper, elfin See might not quite fit the stereotypical British personality is that he’s relentlessly upbeat. While he’s always impeccably dressed in suit and bow tie, the one accessory he nearly always sports is a broad smile, emblematic of his charming, welcoming style. It’s a bone of connection that he was always the host, never the headliner back home – but it’s understandable, given his affable personality would be a boon for any gig he was compering.

He bills this show as part-comedy, part-storytelling – with the expected disclaimer that if you’re not laughing, it’s story not stand-up – and he’s illuminating on life back home, especially about the peculiar jingoism that army conscription instils, creating an industry in cheerily patriotic propaganda movies.

Feeling out of place there, he has roamed the world as a wandering comic, finding his tribe among the comedians of the Edinburgh Fringe. But despite his best efforts, assimilating has not always been easy, culminating in an awkward New Year’s Eve party, awash with sex and drugs, where he never felt more alone when surrounded by so many people. And Britain has its problems too, such as the racism that hit him the moment he walked into a certain pub.

Yet he persists with the Home Office process that would grant him leave to stay in Britain as an entertainer of ‘exceptional promise’, despite all the hurdles.

See’s jokes are serviceable rather than spectacular, and his storytelling’s a bit lumpy, especially the turn into the poignant at the end when the apparently insurmountable obstacle is overcome almost as quickly as it was raised. That’s partly because he (understandably) doesn’t want to exploit a medical issue for pathos, and partly because the jeopardy never quite feels real as a threat.

Still, the lesson he draws from his experiences is one worth learning, and hints at greater depths beyond the effusively warm demeanour that makes him such good company, especially when coupled with an authenticity he’s increasingly seeking in his work.

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Review date: 3 Aug 2024
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Laughing Horse @ The Counting House