Sam See: Government Approved Sex

VENUE: Laughing Horse

@ The Counting House

TIME: 7:30pm – 8:30pm, 4–28 Aug

It is, you have to admit, an intriguing title. What happens when a gay comedian is asked to run a series of sex seminars in the National Library of Singapore, a nation where being a gay anything is definitely not encouraged? He takes the job and writes a show about it, naturally. Quite a few weeks it was too, as those panel discussions were the catalyst for an intense affair with a leading medical figure, and an eventual revelation that leads See to look at relationships in a whole new light. And he’s very keen to share the knowledge he amassed during that process: you will walk out of this show armed with facts about our procreational proclivities that should enliven even the dreariest dinner party. Not that our host is big on important take-homes: “Don’t take advice from comedians!” he yelps, and cites the ludicrous amounts many comics are gambling to stage Fringe shows. Admittedly that’s the set-up for an excellent bucket speech – there’s an entertaining donation chart, and rewards – and lots of thought has clearly gone into this show generally. It has a bit of everything: romance, global politics, explicit sex scenes, graphs, a virginity guessing game and, most importantly, Sam See, who radiates effervescent positivity even when the subject turns darker.

He even provides branded hand-fans, having played the toasty Attic before –which then advertise this show everywhere else they’re flapped, of course. See really has thought of everything. ✏︎ Si Hawkins

HHHHH

VENUE: Gilded Balloon Patter Hoose

TIME: 9:15pm – 10:15pm, 8–21 Aug

In the way he moves his limbs and body, as though they’re separate from each other, but still somehow in sync, Jazz Emu is like someone crossed Jarvis Cocker with his eponymous flightless bird. His absurd physicality, added to impressive wordsmithery and musical aptitude, puts Jazz

Emu up there as a master of most of the trades he’s plying.

Emu’s back after a disastrous 2016 Scandinavian gig where he accidentally insulted one of his biggest fans, and this is his mission to get everyone in the world to like him again. With his dad on his back – beaming in on FaceTime to explain how disappointed in him he is –and an irate goblin to win over, he tries all the tricks to make himself more palatable to his global audience.

This is achieved mainly through a combination of musical comedy, quick-fire multimedia and unexpected existentialism – although mashed together in Emu’s inimitable way, they do make You Shouldn’t Have feel like a mild fever dream. There’s just something not quite right about how E mu’s mind works, and the introduction of Rice Krispies’ uncanny fourth mascot, alongside Emu’s unforgiving goblin nemesis, gives the show the off-kilter bent that makes it worth spending an hour in his company.

Kirstyn Smith

VENUE: Gilded Balloon Teviot

TIME: 8:30pm – 9:30pm, 3–29 Aug, not 15

How many people live inside the tall, wiry frame of Elf Lyons? How many voices? How can the svelte mannerisms and (inexplicably) French accent of Lyons’ mother live alongside the furious snarling and dick-chopping of the monster she has in there? How can Lyons function with the appalling ghost of her boarding school matron inside, every night victim shaming her for sexual assault?

There’s an awful lot to unpack in what amounts to an hour of horror-inspired psycho drama. Maybe even too much. One key theme is around the psychological trauma adults inflict upon children, which they then completely disown – a theme lovingly linked to the novels of Stephen King whose child protagonists know they can see monsters, though the adults responsible for them deny it. A repeated motif of her mother and others delivering bizarre truths at bedtime provides reliable, complicated laughs, and a great deal to think about as Lyons’ grapples with her own daytime profession as a teacher trying to both validate and nurture the young people in her charge. A further theme is around sexual violence, and there’s a fantastic exposition of the ways performance and clowning can be used to confront and externalise rather than internalise this trauma. Lyons is a) hilariously self-aware about her Philippe Gaulier training and b) able to put it to use in one of a handful of utterly inspired set pieces. The final one of these amounts to an orgy of violence against fruit and veg which is entirely artistically justified. And hilarious. But the whole isn’t quite as slickly delivered as these extraordinary parts. There’s a deliberate, Hammer-horror vibe to a lot of this which strays sometimes into haphazard. I still can’t work out why Lyons spent half the show with mop heads down her tights.

Evan Beswick