Edinburgh Fringe comedy, musical and opera reviews: Grubby Little Mitts | Jaz Mattu | Phil Kay | A Comedy of Operas

An unpredictable show about coupledom and a walking tour around Edinburgh with Fringe veteran Phil Kay are among the highlights in our critics’ latest round-up

Grubby Little Mitts: Hello, Hi, Assembly George Square Studios (Studio Four) (Venue 17) ****

Until 28 August

Making explicit what was latent in Grubby Little Mitts’ self-titled Fringe debut (the sense of them as a couple), if they have a thread running through their second show, it's on the ebbs and flows of a relationship. An early skit features a tortuously lengthy asking out of someone (rejection comes first, then affirmation) while a later effort plays with the toxicity of Rosie Nicholls and Sullivan Beau Brown mutually contemplating splitting up. At the conclusion of their sketches the pair sometimes snipe and lay blame over who wrote what. Their opener, in which they lose control in a Pandora's Box scenario of escalating violence, threatens a more formally daring and manic hour, and their closer is a heavily primed, bad-taste splash through Singin' In The Rain. But in between these extremes there's more of a sense of Grubby Little Mitts working through their on and offstage dynamic.

Their title sketch erupts into carnality. And there's repeated declarations of love in successive crisis scenarios, with the rhythm of these quickies perhaps suggesting more of a payoff than what actually transpires. No big deal though, because one returning character, Father Hen – a sort of dufferish, yet randy, yet sexually naïve old cockerel in a (children's?) television series – invariably amuses, the beleaguered chicken increasingly humiliated as the stakes are raised ever higher. It almost goes without saying that Nicholls and Brown have an easy chemistry, but the seamlessness with which they flit between being the protagonist or subverter of their little playlets, the defensive party or the aggressor, means you can rarely predict where any sketch will go next. Less varied than their first show, Hello, Hi nevertheless has a warm, loveable centre and the duo's foregrounding of their coupledom gives it extra frisson. Jay Richardson

Jaz Mattu Emerges, Gilded Balloon Patter Hoose (Snug) (Venue 24) **

Until 27August

Performed with commitment but fatally ill-conceived, Jaz Mattu's debut tries to satirise bad comedy with bad comedy and fails. With big underdog energy, the comic protests that it's his lack of agent, producer or mentor holding him back and that it's the gimmicks of merchandise, a flashy entrance or spilling some confected trauma on a podcast that are needed to make it in stand-up. Crucially, as Mattu surely knows, while he indulges in so much deflection and cack-handed satire about the industry, it's better jokes and a stronger stage persona that he would be better advised to acquire, his abiding message of simply trying to spread joy ringing hollow. Jay Richardson

Rosie Nicholls and Sullivan Beau Brown of Grubby Little Mitts: Hello, Hi. Picture: Contributed.

Phil Kay: Silent DiscoVery… (Walking Tour), BlundaGardens (Venue 212) ****

Until 26 August

Phil Kay is taking it outside, leading the funniest walk round the block on the Fringe. A comedian used to operating on the hoof should make an ideal tour guide and, as he admits, it’s one way to avoid walk-outs.

His Silent DiscoVery walking tour is simply mobile Kay in nostalgic mode, recalling exploits from Fringes past, occasionally on, near or opposite the room where it happened. There are points of interest – to Kay. Points about Edinburgh’s cobbles, the greatest comedy laugh and the legendary Penny Black pub. These may not be your points of interest. Other points of interest are available, they’re just not as riotously rendered.

Kay is in raconteur mode – most of the historical sites on this tour are places where Kay has got up to some mischief, like that time he and six of his fellow comedians stormed the Castle naked. What larks. He stops opposite a venue which has had various Fringe incarnations over the years and recounts “the best way to be thrown out of a club”. Should you wish to test his claim, you will need a broom, a mirrorball and a dance-off.

Being Phil Kay, he attracts attention as he spins his extempore yarns. He beats a performer pushing flyers at their own game with his impromptu guide to proffering a flyer. That’ll show the upstaged gent for interrupting another artist’s flow. Stopping outside a hostelry frequented by comedians, he is naturally recognised by his fellow funnymen, hoping to inherit a bit of that fantastical fairy dust. As any tour guide knows, one should never let the facts get in the way of a good story. For Kay, a good story is simply a fact of life. Fiona Shepherd

A Comedy of Operas, Pleasance at EICC (Venue 150) ***

Until 27 August

Fancy a bit of opera without having to cope with the confusing storylines, supertitles, terrifying ticket prices, long running times and bits that aren’t on adverts? A Comedy of Operas is the show for you – offering a crowd-pleasing trot through the world’s most famous arias while making few demands of its audience.

Presumably inspired by the jukebox musicals that clog up regional theatres, it takes the sections of opera you already know and glues them together with a rudimentary plot (it’s about love). Contemporary pop songs (Whitney! Celine! Mika?) are included to hold the attention of the opera-phobic, while the comedy of the title is largely a case of the performers mugging at the audience. A welcome darker section prompts the wonderful content warning: “The show contains a scene where a character ‘operatically’ considers taking their own life”.

The cast are admittedly superb, delivering sublime vocal performances and making a genuine connection with the crowd, but calling it lightweight is more of an accurate description than a criticism. Still, as it concludes with Nessun Dorma (of course it does) and a medley familiar to fans of Fringe stalwarts ‘Axis of Awesome’, it would be impossible not to leave with both a grin and a multitude of earworms. David Hepburn