Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

Thoughts and ideas come cascading out of Rose Matafeo at such a cracking rate, she appears to be racing through two shows’ worth of material in one.

Driven by her freewheeling, chaotic energy, her first show since 2018’s Horndog will certainly appeal to fans of Starstruck, the BBC romcom she created in intervening years, as it revolves around how she doggedly pursues romance above almost anything else.

However, the story of her involuntary singledom is so much more than a catalogue of ex-boyfriends and bad dates would be. Instead, it’s a more personal look at her place in the universe, what drives her and why she isn’t coupled up, taking in some astute observations about the wider world along the way.

She has an arms-length relationship with self-analysis, adopting a silly voice when she mentions ‘healing herself’, as she’s not really at ease with such concepts.  And her cleaner, a no-nonsense Cockney geezer, seems better at doling out advice than any therapist.

That said, Matafeo does turn to online relationship coaches despite thinking it all a scam to prey on the desperate at their weakest ebb. The comic doesn’t seem to be at that nadir, but she’s keen to understand why she’s still solo and takes the audience on the same journey of discovery with a winning honesty, tinged with self-deprecation.

If she doesn’t quite find the solution, that’s fine. ‘I’m very bad at endings,’ she says at the start – which is a lie as far as the show’s concerned, as it wraps up very eloquently. Likewise, she laments that ‘endings give things meaning’, but there’s plenty of meaning to be found amid what superficially seems like a random download of the comic’s insecurities.

Matafeo contrasts dating and dumping in your 20s, when you have a malleable personality, to doing the same in your 30s when any traits are now set in stone, and it is definitely your actual self that is being rejected. She talks eloquently, too, of the solitude of London, where she now lives and where it’s so easy to get lost in the crowd.

The lively show gambols from the ridiculous to the sublime, with a side order of whimsy, too. We learn of her first encounters with posh people – they are not native to her New Zealand homeland – the dumpster fire of thoughts she has committed to the iPhone Notes app, and how googling in incognito mode reveals your true self. She fears for the state of self-absorbed Gen Z, though the youngest adult generation was probably always this, and  bashes Taylor Swift fans for being basic.

Consistent with the perpetually insecure self-analysis, Matefeo offers a running commentary on the gig, highlighting which bits go down well, and which don’t but are staying in just for her. It’s overused, taking the audience out of the moment when they are so on her side, especially as  there’s nothing here you could ever identify as letting the charming show down.

The emotionally intelligent narrative of the comedian’s romantic aims shifts under us, but remains essentially the same, even with a supposed big reveal close to the end. It’s an invigorating ride from a comedian in total command of her work, if not her love life. 

Review date: 14 Aug 2024
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Pleasance Courtyard