Edinburgh Fringe theatre review

‘Talking doesn’t become theatre just because you put music underneath it,’ says Ivo Graham near the top of this piece, aware of the pitfalls and misplaced expectations of a comedian turning to the more dramatic genre.

To which we could possibly add ‘stand-up doesn’t become a play just because you say it in the second person’. Because the former Taskmaster contestant’s first foray into theatre is a deeply personal affair but delivered as if the comic is having a word with himself, reliving the pains of the past to condemn himself for the decisions he’s made.

It is as self-eviscerating as some of his most recent stand-up, but without the certain release of a forgiving laugh. He interrogates his every action harshly, earning himself the self-appointed title of ‘the most highly evolved narcissist in the whole of the Edinburgh Fringe’, a competitive category.

The soul-searching was prompted by a desperate dash the comedian made from the festival down to his London home, down on the last train with seconds to spare, back the next day just in time for his show. A mad endeavour just to spend a few hours with his daughter, Edie, now five.

Tender ruminations on fatherhood are tainted by the sad truth that he and  Edie’s mother are no longer together. Here, he rakes over the embers of that relationship, depicting her as a Jekyll and Hyde character, but he is far from blameless in the split, too.

The story is told through the device ten things he’ll never throw away, including photos, ticket stubs (what mementoes will future generations have of their formative gigs? QR codes?) and a hideous sculpture he made, a talisman for his awkwardness. Memories of friends and family are recalled with a wistful, potent nostalgia.

Even scenes that are objectively funny, such as setting up a printer on a night out in a Belushi’s sports bar, are told relatively soberly, so as not to crack too deeply the reflective atmosphere Graham so effectively establishes. That’s helped by the evocative soundtrack, expertly selected from this sometime DJ.

There is joy: with Edie, with his marathon running. But even the latter, like his love of raving, is enjoyed because it blocks out his inner critical thoughts, forcing him against his instincts to live in the moment and not in his head. 

All the mistakes he recalls are his alone – ‘no one else lives like you do’ is a refrain – but there’s a universality to them, too. Combined with an elegance of writing, well-deployed theatrical devices, and Graham’s innate likability even through the moments of shame, makes this a storytelling show that cuts deeper than the sum of its parts.

Review date: 12 Aug 2024
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Assembly George Square