Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

An authentically open-hearted comedian so optimistic she even thought her home town of Consett, County Durham, was the bees’ knees, Elaine Robertson sparkles with personality and joy on stage.

Her Fringe debut is packed full of wonderfully warm stories engagingly told – not necessarily in the service of some grand story arc, but giving a delightful introduction to who she is and where she’s come from.

The comedian probably owes her upbeat nature to her father, a carpe diem sort of a man who will leap into a Tom Jones impersonation at the drop of a knicker and so emotionally open he’ll weep at a Disney film. In recreating him – squat and neckless – she demonstrates a skilful comic physicality.

However happy she appears on the outside, Robertson confesses to simultaneously thinking she’s the best person in the world and a passive piece of shit. Could she be clinically delulu? 

Robertson touches on some potentially disturbing mental health themes, but she is savvy enough to know both when her brain’s playing tricks on her, and how to make such incidents funny when they are rear-view mirror. Played for laughs far more than sympathy, her stories sound surreal – although they were genuine in her head – and the crazier they are, the more the audience like it.

A shining example of what social mobility can achieve, she went to Oxford, where she was treated as ‘exotic’ as a working-class Northerner. But although it wasn’t her natural environment , there she was inspired by those in academia who were so proud of their passions, however arcane. 

Cue a PowerPoint interlude about oxbow lakes that has no business being here, but her show, her rules. And as with everything else in this hour, her spirited commitment to whatever she’s doing is infectious.

After graduating she found a perfect job in care home, letting her indulge her playful side and making the residents’ lives more gleeful. They found her as easy to love as comedy audiences do today.

And then came Covid.

You can see the joy bleed from her as she recalls those days and the terrible burden placed on frontline workers like her who were left to make life-or-death decisions about the vulnerable people in their care with no guidance, shamefully abandoned by a Tory government ill-equipped to cope when confronted with the fact politics has real implications, and isn’t just a Burlington Club game.

It’s powerful, emotive stuff that could have you blubbing like her dad at a Bambi screening. 

But she won’t leave us on that, and we are returned to Robertson’s default exuberance for the celebratory, happy-go-lucky payoff. We’ve been through all the emotions in the last hour, but the main take-out  is what a natural comedy performer Robertson is. 
 

Review date: 23 Aug 2024
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Stand 3 and 4