By the end of the Edinburgh fringe, anyone who has been here all month will tell you how tired they are. There have been highs – after a tentative return last year, most people feel the fringe has found its feet again and audiences are back in bigger numbers. But also lows – not all performers saw those audiences in their rooms and everyone mentions accommodation costs.
“It is a tough and stressful month,” says Zach Zucker, comedian and producer at Stamptown. “Last year, it was three years since we’d had a proper fringe; everything felt harder.” Despite that, 2022 was a triumph for Stamptown. They sold out their namesake variety night, while two of their acts, Jordan Gray and Emily Wilson, received glowing reviews and Edinburgh comedy award nominations. This year, the group built on that momentum, bringing 17 shows, including Edinburgh comedy award nominee Martin Urbano, and are likely to have sold out 11 of those. Ticket pre-sales have been their highest ever, and they’re on track to leave with a healthy profit.
Across the festival though, many had a more mixed experience. Some only had one review all month; others struggled to sell tickets. Emily Beecher is doing the fringe for the first time as producer of three shows with The REcreate Agency, but also performer of one of the three, Summer Camp for Broken People. “One day is great; the next day is not,” she says. “Each show has a life of its own.”
People strive to find the magic formula to crack the fringe, but with her producer hat on, Beecher says it’s not clearcut. “I know we’re doing the same things on all three shows, but the outcome is different. We haven’t unpicked it enough to figure out what it is.”
One show seems to be benefiting from its location and flyering. Beecher’s own show, on the other hand, which addresses sexual assault, mental health and recovery, is in her ideal room, but she questions its time slot. “Is it something they don’t want to engage with at 1.30pm? Maybe audiences don’t want heavy stuff right now,” she says. “I’m proud of the other shows, but it’s mine that’s not working, and it’s hard not to take that personally.”
Beecher and team have noticed the impact of positive reviews – bringing in sales and other reviewers. In terms of comedy and comic theatre at least, the British Comedy Guide’s database shows that there have been 4,424 reviews this year. That’s more than last year (3,738), but a dip from 2019 (4,535). The stats suggest national papers have less coverage, with blogs boosting numbers.
Some feel people of colour have struggled harder to get reviewers in, others spotted unconscious bias in reviews they did receive, and others report racist heckles. There were also anti-LGBTQ+ flyers handed out on the streets, and numerous performers reported abuse. “I’ve been working at the fringe for 17 years and this year feels like a real step back for the safety of queer people,” says producer and programmer Pax Lowey. “As a visibly trans person, this year I’ve had slurs directed at me on the street every single day. Multiple comedians have shared horrendous incidents of homophobic and transphobic abuse.”
Zoë Coombs Marr, whose show The Opener references the mainstreaming of transphobia, has also noticed a backlash against queer people. Lowey says: “This issue isn’t limited to the fringe … but it does feel quite jarring. Throughout history there’s always been backlash against progress, and every incident makes me more proud of working alongside outspoken queer artists like Zoë Coombs Marr and Leila Navabi.”
Costs remain a hot topic. Almost everyone has paid more for their accommodation and venue than ever before. Cerys Bradley received the Keep It Fringe fund and decided to move from one of the big four venues to the Free Fringe. Last year, “my room meant that I couldn’t make money,” Bradley says. “I also felt guilty about how much I was charging for tickets – the venue has a lower limit on ticket prices and my target audience is neurodiverse and queer, so charging more than £10 a ticket felt like an access barrier.”
This year has been “a much better experience”. Numbers are up, and despite running the show on a pay-what-you-can basis, many people have paid higher amounts in advance. The more relaxed setup has attracted warmer audiences: “They seem to be more willing to enter into the spirit of the show.”
Bilal Zafar stuck with his Underbelly venue after a good run there last year. Nevertheless, he arrived in Edinburgh sure that this was the last fringe he’d do in a long time – if not ever. “The cost of it is getting silly,” he says, citing a £300 rent increase, plus PR and other expenses he feels are necessary to bring in reviewers and sales. (While Zafar is happy to have paid for PR, I hear from performers and producers who feel some publicists have taken on too many acts to properly service their full roster.)
This is Zafar’s fifth fringe, and he’s gathered loyal fans along the way, plus an online following built on Twitch. But it can be tough to predict how a show will perform: “Last year ended up selling out, because it was about me working in a care home and so was accidentally topical. This year, even though I think the show is better, it’s not always selling out.”
Although he has enjoyed the month in the end, he has an alternative strategy for next year: “My plan is to tour this show, then I don’t think I’ll write a new show for a while. I want to build up my online following. I’d love to come here and not worry about reviews or awards because I’d have my own audience.”
Zucker feels Stamptown’s online presence boosted their audiences this year, and their past fringe experience equipped them to deal with any problems. “We’re there to pick up all the pieces around performers, so they can achieve what they want,” he says.
That’s involved boosting morale. Past fringes have highlighted the mental health of participants. Beecher says she would factor in more artist rest days next time. Many people this year had a sober fringe. “I’ve stayed sober the last three years while doing this festival because if my show goes down, I’m not going to be the reason,” Zucker says.
Zucker still feels the community vibe the fringe is known for though. “We’re all working a bit harder than we feel like we’re being paid for, but we’re all doing it because we believe in it,” he says. “The spirit of this is that everyone is welcome.”
Has it been worth it?
Before the fringe, we spoke to three acts about their costs. Now it’s over, how do they feel?
The Thelmas: Guleraana Mir and Madelaine Moore say of their play Santi & Naz: “It’s been equal parts heartening and frustrating. We’ve noticed how the fringe has changed since we were last here. Audiences are definitely more risk-averse to taking a punt on something new.” Winning the Pleasance Charlie Hartill fund tempted them to return to Edinburgh: “We have been able to focus on the show, rather than fundraising.” The company should break even but may not leave in significant profit. However, they have achieved nonfinancial goals, including industry interest in touring the show and finding the right audience. “We have reached the south Asian audiences we wanted to. They are who we made this show for.”
RoguePlay: Kim Wildborne says RoguePlay has had a successful year with its show Forests. “[It] felt like audiences were out spending money again. Forests averaged circa 40% ticket sales, which is a little lower than we expected but we had many other achievements,” she says. “The costs were very much worth it.” The company began a new collaboration with Rainforest Foundation UK, and made connections with Chinese programmers. “We have pencilled dates both nationally and internationally,” Wildborne says. “We are very confident that a significant number of tour dates will take place because of being at the fringe this year.”
Tamsyn Kelly: “The fringe now feels more like a nice little add-on for comedians if they can do it, but it’s not the big career move that it once was,” Kelly says. “It’s been good for me as a performer to keep pushing myself.” Her show, Crying in TK Maxx, has proven popular, filling its room at Pleasance Courtyard. “Money-wise, I haven’t even looked at ticket sales at this stage – it’s too stressful – but I think I’ll be OK,” she says. “There are still class and diversity issues here. I’ve had comments like: ‘It’s a really good club set.’ I think that’s only said to working-class artists. But I’ve had loads of support – all the women in comedy are so supportive; I’ve had a great team around me; I feel valued by the industry.”
