Edinburgh Fringe comedy reviews: Colin Hoult: Colin | Damien Power: Not So Funny Now Is It? + more

Colin Hoult: Colin | Ed Moore

Colin Hoult: Colin ★★★★

Pleasance Courtyard (Cabaret Bar) (Venue 33) until 25 August

Having bid farewell to his excitable thespian character Anna Mann in order to perform as himself, Colin Hoult has created an uproariously funny expression of mental health struggles and grief spanning three generations.

Raised in a working-class, 1980s Nottingham household overlooked by a mental hospital, and named after his father, Big Colin, his more eccentric tendencies used to be dismissed with the catch-all terminology: “he's not right”.

Now diagnosed with ADHD and a suspicion that he's autistic, aspects of which he's parlayed into a moderately successful performing career, he can reflect upon the character of his mother and siblings, and that of his children, and realise that successive apples haven't fallen too far from too many trees, all the while recalling his father's despairing love as “the normal one” in the dynasty.

Leaning into his ADHD, setting up successive conversational digressions with his front row and beyond, fostering a sense of wider mental health diversion in the room, Hoult nevertheless keeps his story ticking along tightly.

Retaining plenty of Anna's flamboyant theatricality, he makes a “woo woo” noise for the obvious and rare occasions when he's made something up, vividly and lovingly bringing to life his Elvis obsession, his gently touched older brothers, intense daughter and almost feral son, as well as his barely comprehending father and wife.

The show is densely packed with the details of his backstory and yet his giddily energetic performance powers it through.

As a reinvention it's overwhelmingly successful. And while the laugh count is consistently, admirably high, the show also serves as a useful, easily absorbed introduction to neurodiversity for those who suspect it might also exist in their loved ones.

Jay Richardson

Damien Power: Not So Funny Now Is It? ★★★★

Pleasance Courtyard (Beside) (Venue 33) until 25 August

Opening with a despairing gripe about being a single, 42-year-old man staying in student accommodation during the Fringe, Damien Power is a seething mass of resentments, not least as he's only temporarily escaping from living with his reactionary, Boomer generation father, a man entirely resistant to change.

As a seasoned stand-up, Power is piqued by the TikTok generation of comics who've swept in and are now stealing the thunder and acclaim that the Australian feels is rightfully his. But his frustration is the sustaining energy for some sharp observations on some of the most pressing subjects of the day.

Wittily, he takes the immigrant experience of integration through spreading culinary diversity and suggests that might be a way forward for other persecuted groups. He's similarly persuasive on the toxicity of modern discourse, with meaningless small talk having been replaced by upfront statements of tribal leanings and conspiracy theories, at least as far as he perceives it.

And he's waggishly dismissive of the bizarre, once distinct, now seemingly compatible series of interests of Joe Rogan's podcast listeners.

Though unafraid of making some pretty sweeping generalisations and completely lacking in sentimentality, Power treads a fairly expert line between woke sensitivity and telling it how he sees it, able to understand and critique casual misogyny and homophobia from a position of familiarity, while never participating in it himself.

Occasionally, he'll reach for gratuitous offence, being shocking for shocking's sake. But the excess is part of his outspoken appeal. Like his maddening father, he's got views and by God, he's going to use his platform to share them.

Whether that's a route to greater career recognition and a more materially comfortable existence is a moot point because right now, at this festival, he's in barnstorming form.

Jay Richardson

Lewis Garnham: Choosing the Wrong Story to Tell ★★★★

Underbelly, Bristo Square (Clover) (Venue 302) until 25 August

Inspired by a chance encounter with an amnesia sufferer and the children with extra needs he helps as a teacher's aide, Lewis Garnham's delightful Fringe debut is a storytelling show about the way we communicate.

The Australian is a very natural, assured raconteur. But lately, he's been troubled by the feeling that too many of our interactions with others are rigidly scripted, pre-ordained and not properly experienced in the moment. While disconcerting on a personal basis, at the macro level of a culture passively scrolling constantly through our phones, we're sleepwalking into a climate catastrophe and post-truth society.

That might sound grim and even a little worthy. But Garnham doesn't present it that way. His autopilot may in part be concerned with his partial deafness, for which he has some self-mocking material. But rather more so when he tries to inhabit the authority of his teaching position, exposing the gaps in his knowledge and prompting a truly mortifying episode in front of all of his charges.

The account of the amnesia sufferer is charming, the sort of thing Wes Anderson might make a quirky independent film out of. Yet there's a significant kicker in the tale for the comic. And it's matched by the embarrassment he and a girlfriend experienced when they went to pick up a hitch-hiker, no good deed going unpunished.

Garnham may have been struggling to make meaningful connections in his day-to-day life. But related on stage, these episodes are rich, relatable appeals to our shared humanity.

Moreover, any philosophical pretentiousness or fey whimsy in them is more than tempered by him invariably being the big ridiculed butt of his own routines. Lovely stuff.

Jay Richardson

Paul Black: All Sorts ★★★

Gilded Balloon Patter House (Venue 24) until 25 August

Seeing Paul Black performing live is like reuniting with old friends. Having amassed a vast following for his online sketches, he’s become a Scottish comic treasure, and everyone in this packed room feels like they know him.

All Sorts is a blend of sketches with Alana Malone and his brother Mark, with familiar topics including Brendan’s matchmaking service (featuring poor Angie’s obvious unrequited love for him) and the trust fund digital nomad from Bearsden trying his luck in Thailand.

There’s also a gorgeous spoof of Choices for Life, the cheesy educational video warning young people about peer pressure and how vaping is just as bad as smack, and a wonderful moment when Brendan rehearses something special for his grandad’s eulogy.

In between the sketches, Black does a little stand-up, which takes the form of funny observations about his family (his grandmother sounds like a real character), rebranding young people’s inability to afford home ownership and how hard it is to do anything in your home town without one of your mates clocking you.

He also tells us the tragi-comic tale of how he got out of the bleep test at school, leaving us hungry for more drawn-out narratives from this funny, likeable guy. See him at SEC Armadillo on 22 November if you can’t get Edinburgh tickets.

Ashley Davies

Jeff Stark: An Old Fart Gassing    ★★

Greenside @ George Street (Venue 236) until 25 August

Jeff Stark is here to light the way to old age and point out a few of life's wrinkles along the way. There is some impressively oblique fun with pickles and smashed avocado, rewilding gets some fresh funny, and a painful but hilarious story involving Zadie Smith and a woman on a bus is a joy.

Of course there is incontinence, wind and things that droop in the night - good grief, the man is 81. But, if you can manage three flights of stairs, Jeff is worth a visit. Let's face it, he may not be around for much longer.

Kate Copstick