As I cross the threshold of US comedian Moses Storm’s Edinburgh fringe show, I’m handed a white coat. Now part of an identically dressed crowd, I descend into the basement venue. Ambient music hums and fairy lights twinkle. Then a drumbeat punctuates our chatter and two figures wearing ram’s head masks march slowly into sight. A bell rings. For some reason, we all stand.
Storm spent his childhood in a “failed cult”: in a way, he is embarrassed that it wasn’t a more successful one. So tonight, with our help, he is going to form the perfect cult. “As far as starting a cult, trying to get people on board with an idea, there’s just such an obvious parallel with comedy,” he says. “It’s the same struggle.”
Perfect Cult is one of many shows at this year’s fringe in which the audience is at the heart of the performance. Elsewhere, Rachel Creeger invites people to ask her anything by dropping questions into her chicken soup pot in Ultimate Jewish Mother and Benjamin Alborough’s Absolute Monopoly brings the board game to life: “Every single night, the audience create a version of Monopoly that is their own.” Sian Clarke’s show iCON is a musing on the meaning of life, segmented by silly movie scenes. But she needs a narrator and co-star to accompany her. Volunteers step into her scenes, reading from scripts and following prompts to action – one person gets to make it rain.
Some performers have suggested that post-Covid crowds have forgotten how to behave at live shows.But last year, as audiences returned to the fringe after the pandemic, they were more subdued, says Clarke. “When things first started opening up, audiences behaved as if they were at the cinema. People had forgotten how to respond. As performers, we’d probably forgotten how to bring them in. Now we’ve got to a point where we really do want to be back in the room and interacting.”
Creeger, who often MCs shows, says that last year it was as if “you were retraining audiences. If you’re watching something online at home, you might chuckle to yourself but wouldn’t necessarily laugh out loud.” She now makes an extra effort to encourage audiences to be vocal in their appreciation. The pandemic directly inspired Clarke’s theme – the need for joyful respite when the world seems bleak – but also its manner of audience participation. “Because we weren’t allowed to be in a room with each other for so long, I was desperate for that connection.”
That idea of connection is palpable in Choir!Choir!Choir!, in which Nobu Adilman and Daveed Goldman bring a roomful of strangers together in musical harmony. “It’s a playful space. We’re going to get them to connect with people in ways they didn’t think they would,” says Adilman.
Goldman says time away from performance during the pandemic has heightened the participatory element of their shows. “When Nobu and I are on stage connecting with the audience, I know how cathartic it is for me. It feels more gratifying now because of what we’ve been through.” It’s not risk-free though. “You try to bend the audience every night without breaking them,” says Storm. “You push them to where it’s art and it’s exciting, and it feels like anything could happen. But I’m so aware that you don’t want to push it too far.”
Storm’s research into successful cult leaders is useful here: “If the audience don’t accept me as their leader, they don’t believe I’m in command and have their best interests at heart, then this show is a struggle. I need them to participate and make this thing with me. If they don’t trust me, the show’s not good.”
Other performers lay out that danger for the audience. “We explicitly tell everybody: you are the show. If you have a bad time, you’re partly responsible,” says Adilman. “Everyone has to participate, right?” The Choir! guys, who have been running the show for more than a decade, have plenty of experience in turning things around. “There’s tons of humour in the space, so if something goes horribly wrong, it’s funny, says Goldman. “We lean into that and laugh about it.”
There have been reports of audience misbehaviour in the UK recently, with people wanting to shout out or sing along uninvited. “Sometimes there’s the risk of people showing up way too drunk, they’re way too excited So we have to get them onside without being adversarial,” Adilman says.
Does allowing people to participate ease those tensions? In Absolute Monopoly, Alborough has constructed his game to account for both reluctant audiences and individuals vying for attention. “There are always people who want to be funnier than you on stage,” he says. His audience draw chance cards that set rules: “One of them is: you’re free to leave, but you have to drink these two pints of milk first. Once you have that mechanic, you can direct people who are being a bit annoying towards it. Even though in another show, it might be a disruptive moment, it becomes quite fun.”
There is always the risk no one will volunteer. Creeger’s participation is relatively light touch, with audience members choosing to submit questions. But on the off-chance no one does, she has prepared enough material to last the hour.
Whether these shows succeed relies heavily on the performer’s skill and the show’s construction. Clarke rigorously tested her participatory scenes to make them funny without being uncomfortable. The scripting is crucial – she does the heavy lifting, volunteers are a calm foil to her dramatic characters. “I’ve tried to find the best way to give the audience member a moment of fun,” she says. “As the performer, I still run the show.”
Creeger creates a warm atmosphere. “I’m super motherly, I relax people and it ends up being a big chat,” she says. Breaking down barriers is key: “I feel responsibility as the only Orthodox Jewish act on the circuit to make people understand that we can all relate. We create a community for that hour.”
Absolute Monopoly works, Alborough says, when he exhibits “gameshow host charisma … I’m the dynamo at the centre”. Once people are immersed in the show: “You enter this liminal state where the most important thing in your entire life is winning Monopoly. I’ve had people sell their souls and reveal controversial opinions on stage just to avoid paying rent.”
When these shows succeed, it can lead to the ultimate fringe experience, with everyone immersed in the moment, experiencing something that might never happen again. “When it’s going right, the funniest thing that’s ever going to happen is not the well-crafted joke you spent six years on, it’s what happens in that room that night,” says Storm.
After the pandemic years of us all watching shows on our devices, this is something you can’t get at home. “A show like Absolute Monopoly can only exist in person,” Alborough says. “That experience is not replicable.” It can be difficult to ignore distractions when you’re watching at home too. Clarke wants to offer a reminder: “It doesn’t mean you’re a bad person if you switch off from the horrors of the world for a moment.”
The performers understand that many people fear being picked on. Storm makes fun of combative crowd-work clips that often go viral on TikTok. “I don’t want to be a comedian who bullies the audience,” he says. “If I sense you’re uncomfortable with something, you don’t have to participate.”
The ideal audience member doesn’t have to do much, says Alborough. “You want someone who is not seeking to be the centre of attention but who you can turn to on occasion. Once you’re in the game, there are basically no wrong answers.” He’s already seen people go from reluctance to merrily shouting out as shows unfold.
The Choir! guys know many people have an added fear of singing. Their show is “the perfect space to get over that fear”, Goldman says. Adilman adds: “You are coming into a room with other people who are feeling the same way to different degrees. You’re doing this together.” There’s comedy and chat in their show, but “music is the ultimate communication device”.
These shows might not be perfectly polished, but that’s the point. “Come and be part of the chaos and see us pull it together or fall apart beautifully. Then we’ll do it again the next night,” says Adilman.
Moses Storm: Perfect Cult is at Pleasance Courtyard until 27 August. Rachel Creeger: Ultimate Jewish Mother is at PBH’s Free Fringe @ Whistlebinkies until 27 August. Benjamin Alborough: Absolute Monopoly is at Assembly, George Square until 28 August. Choir!Choir!Choir! is at Underbelly, George Square until 27 August. Sian Clarke: iCON is at Summerhall until 27 August.
