Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

Flat And The Curves are three-quarters of their usual selves this year, with an absent Arabella Rodrigo, but they offer no lesser a musical comedy extravaganza because of it.

However, there is a slightly different tone than how they started as an act, with anthems of female empowerment out, to be replaced by a ribald warts-and-all celebration of girls’ nights out.

It’s a hot mess of prosecco swigging, throwing up and inappropriate flirting by the trio as they hit the nightclub. And all that’s in the first song. 

Impractical clothing, tensions in hen dos and even the WhatsApp groups it takes to arrange the revelries all feature in a show whose tone is halfway between 2023’s Barbie trend – there’s a lot of pink – and 2024’s brat girl summer, even if they should be old enough to know better.

As always, it’s a powerhouse of performance, well-choreographed, passionately sung and with a dash of burlesque to their punchy cabaret. All three have range, but Issy Wroe Wright is the strongest with a powerful operatic voice, often comically undercut by Katy Baker’s earthier, full-throated tones.

The pair’s differences is the main axis of the show, with Wright upper-middle class and Baker common as muck. The latter has also nailed drunk-acting and is adept at shooting conspiratorial glances to the audience, making us complicit in the hedonistic shenanigans.

Meanwhile, Charlotte Brooke, who’s also the pianist, is the most unhinged one – as best proved by a hauntingly surreal Easter Bunny song entirely out of keeping with the rest of the hour.

Later she becomes the ‘nice guy’, lamenting how people like him never get the girl, oblivious to how creepy and desperate he comes across.  Dating’s further covered by a sultry lounge song about dick pics and another track suggesting, tongue-in-cheek that the only thing worse than being catcalled is not being catcalled. Don’t take that at face value, lads.

After the wild night, the morning after, and the pounding party r&b is replaced by a sombre beat poem set to a bassy jazz backing track, the deep notes reverberating through your skull. ‘Never again’ is the vow, certain to be broken.

Embarrassingly relatable, Rosé Tinted offers the prospect of a vicarious party night out, without the hangover. Unless, of course, you go for some drinks after…

Review date: 14 Aug 2024
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Underbelly Bristo Square