Fringe comedy reviews: Marty Gleeson | Tom Houghton | Nathan Cassidy + more

Marty Gleeson: Dog Ear | Rachel Sherlock

Marty Gleeson: Dog Ear ★ ★ ★ ★

Pleasance Courtyard (Venue 33) until 30 August

Marty Gleeson's a rogue talent, a messer with the soul of an artist and the capricious wit of an inveterate trickster. Raised Catholic in rough and ready Limerick, she's all about highlighting her juicy booty, while cosplaying as an aged fella trapped in a young woman's body, shapeshifting to dispense the wisdom of an “aul’ wan” whenever she feels like it.

Employing her art school training for some beautifully executed pullback-and-reveal gags, and with a canny capacity for callbacks, she can impressively modulate her voice to cycle through a series of different registers, never quite allowing you to pin down what she's being honest about. For example, when she relates that she was briefly a rollercoaster operator in America, it has the twang of authenticity but you're never really sure.

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A highly scripted news bulletin from her native Ireland is a beautiful study in escalating absurdism, a series of neat gags given life by her controlled performance. But generally she's a much freer spirit. Roaming the room, engaging different sections of the crowd, rarely lording her status as the one with the microphone, she takes you with her into her relatable but gently cracked universe. Working-class female comics are rarely afforded the latitude to be arty without pretentiousness and a prickly agenda.

But the always amiable Gleeson is down-to-earth and very easy to warm to, shrewd and intelligent but only ever grandstanding with the most endearing, swaggering exaggeration. She's understandably wary of being patronised as “adorable”, retaining just enough spikiness to not be seen as some fey, whimsical Celtic figure by well-meaning, middle-class Fringe audiences. But with her persona already so strongly established, her potential appears near-limitless, her distinctive worldview and mischievous inclinations ripe for further showcasing. Jay Richardson

Tom Houghton: New Stuff ★ ★ ★ ★

Liquid Room (Venue 276) until 27 August

The line between “savagely upper middle class” (which is how Tom Houghton describes himself) and “smug git” can be a delicate one to negotiate. Tom strolls along it like a 21st century Charles Blondin. He has the kind of self-assurance that makes his anecdotal material more attractive than his routines. Although it is pretty much all good stuff. Even the sections about 9/11, conscription of performers and the racism suffered by white people are saved by his performance.

This is his fifth show which, he warns us, does not bode well. Almost no one in the house has seen him before, we discover, so perhaps that doesn't matter. Despite being out and proud pinky ring posh, Tom manages to get away with sharing with us his loathing of the Irish, his lack of patience with the sheer amount of news coming at us from the most unreliable of online commentators, his belief that these are difficult times for privileged white men (and he should know) and the fallacy that losing your health is the worst of problems.

Of course there is pathos here – Tom has been dumped – but this seems like more of a grocery delivery problem for him than emotional turmoil. He has met the King, as you might expect of a chap whose father used to run the army and is now a Lord and a Field Marshall and several other honourable things to do with killing.

Tom himself finds that, now 40, he no longer has any hills to die on, although he is irritated that we are no longer allowed to read Harry Potter. He does mention (although it is not in the programme) that this is work in progress. I think it is progressing rather well. Kate Copstick

Nathan Cassidy: From the Ashes ★ ★ ★

Counting House (Venue 170) until 30 August

Nathan Cassidy: Ewwww! ★ ★ ★

Hoots @ Potterrow (Venue 243) until 31 August

Much thought has gone into both of these shows. Structurally, they are impressive: the first weaving the comedy material in and out of Cassidy's commentary for a cricket match (the Aussies do not come out well from it) and the second springing from a chance encounter with a young girl on the London underground.

There is quite a confrontational feel to both shows, and in both hours, other performers come in for more than a little stick: Jimmy Carr in the first show and Garry Starr in the second. It is a genuinely interesting experience to see both shows back to back. I recommend it. In the first show Nathan's family issues extend vertically in both directions. He looked for love from both his dad and his son and definitely didn't get it from his (now ex) wife.

By the end of the hour he is having quite the go about all women. But these are the jokes, folks. In the midst of this we pause to ask the question “what is art?”, decry crowd-work comics and examine “tall privilege”.

The second show takes as its main theme age – specifically age-gap relationships and how unfairly we judge them and that encounter with a young girl who looked at him and said “ewwww”, marking him for life. And giving us this show.

Nathan makes a lot of good points about age, in many contexts, worrying whether he is even allowed to find a 20-year-old attractive nowadays.

There are a handful of caveats here. There is quite a lot of graphically descriptive talk of a naked Garry Starr, naked boys in school showers, “cock dysmorphia”, and quite an unsettling depiction of a little old lady offering sex for clearing paths. I rather like it.

Nathan is now, he tells us, rebuilding himself piece by piece and, of course, is about to reveal one specific piece to us. “This is why you came” he says, and in the final moments of the show, rips off his gold trunks. The audience, who have been quite quiet until then, are, interestingly, loudly appreciative. Kate Copstick

Silky in ‘No, YOU'RE Poster Syndrome' ★ ★ ★

Stand Comedy Club (Venue 5b) until 30 August

Silky by name and silky by comedy style is how I would describe him. This is a gentle, personal hour of chuckles and warmth. Silky explains how he came to humour as a way to diffuse school violence and talks about his own particular strain of imposter syndrome and how he is dealing with it.

Having revealed himself to be an inveterate and creative liar, though, he admits to ruining his sister's life and leaving her with what she calls “the cheese in my mind”. So maybe not always silky. He also prides himself on being able to time a laugh perfectly to create the most physical and greatest lasting impression – with gravy, and marshmallows, for example. I will tell you no more.

So, contrary to what he fears, he is certainly still in people's minds, and even on their ceilings, even when he is not with them. He gives us ten-word songs, tells us (quite often, actually) of how he came to have his portrait beside Ross Noble's in a much-loved comedy venue in Sheffield, and shares a happy memory of “bride pegging”. Silky enjoys the reputation of being the ‘comedian's comedian’. But he really should be yours too. Kate Copstick

READ MORE: The Scotsman Festival Sessions: Gregor Fisher's Fringe memories

Maya Ricote: Ay Am! ★ ★

Pleasance Courtyard (Venue 33) until 30 August

With enormous inflatable boobs and a gigantic inflatable bum, Lara Ricote is the Venus of the Kardashian era. Except she’s just emerged from a deep freeze and she’s supposed to be ninety – which makes her Joan Collins. So far, so confusing.

Despite the fabulous costume, Maya Ricote, apparently the sister of stand-up Lara Ricote, does not do enough with her grotesque sex-bomb character. She goes to an audition. She opens and closes lots of invisible doors. She rides in a taxi.

I like the bit where she cries lots of tears and the ending, when she finally escapes the costume, is visually arresting. Claire Smith

Em Humble: Lady of the Lakes ★ ★

Pleasance Courtyard (Venue 33) until 30 August

Em Humble never got around to reading Le Morte d'Arthur for her degree. But she's trying to make up for that now in her ambitious but clumsily executed Fringe debut. Hailing from the Lake District, she's conflated Lake Windermere and King Arthur's legend. But mindful of the latter's patriarchal, feudal anachronism, the funniest bits are dedicated to a lake maintenance man trying to unionise Camelot.

In period costume, with childlike animation, a Merlin guest appearance and a talking book huffily chiding Humble for her fast and loose retelling of the tale, Lady of the Lakes looks the part, with amusement sprinkled throughout. But its messy and less than the sum of its parts. Jay Richardson

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