Australian comedians Jenny Tian, Amy Hetherington, Emma Holland and Alex Hines are all performing at their first Edinburgh Fringe Festival this month.
comedian Jenny Tian is doing two shows almost every day this month, but doesn’t expect to make a cent. Instead, she’s paid about $6000 for the pleasure of performing and is slowly recouping costs by perfecting her “bucket speech” – in which she asks people to throw money in a bucket after performing in a Scottish pub.
This is the reality for the hundreds of Aussie performers who have made the pilgrimage to Edinburgh Fringe Festival this month. In fact, Tian is one of the lucky ones: despite this being her first time at the festival, she’s drawing decent crowds thanks to her strong social media following. And her costs are far lower than the $10,000 or more others often have to front up.
“The rumoured expectation is you always have at least one mental breakdown during this thing, if not more,” Tian says, speaking from her accommodation with six other comedians and one shower. “[But still] it feels like such a privilege to be here”.
After all, the Fringe is the biggest performing arts festival in the world. It’s launched the careers of some of entertainment’s biggest names like Phoebe Waller-Bridge (Fleabag), Noel Fielding (The Mighty Boosh) and Richard Gadd (Baby Reindeer) – and Australian comedians are historically well-respected, taking out three of the past seven main comedy awards. One of those shows, Hannah Gadsby’s Nanette, went on to become an Emmy-award-winning global Netflix sensation.
Although that did come after a decade of punishment. “[Fringe is] a prohibitively expensive enterprise and putting on a show there is closer to gambling than to acting,” they wrote in The Guardian last week. Gadsby recalled sleeping in a closet during their first festival and performing to fewer than 100 people across the full run.
Colin Lane, who won the top gong back in 1994 as part of now-iconic duo Lano & Woodley, remembers performing at a venue where “if they didn’t like you, they’d throw pint glasses at your head”.
So, is it all worth the effort? It depends on who you talk to (and how their show went the night before).
‘You don’t go into this expecting to earn anything’
After guidance from other comedians, Emma Holland landed in Edinburgh this month with “very, very realistic expectations”: “I expected super low audience numbers; the show to be reviewed fine, if not badly; and basically every audience not responding.”
And by those metrics, she’s doing extraordinarily well. Holland, who was nominated for most outstanding show at the 2023 Melbourne International Comedy Festival (MICF), has performed to some full rooms and even scored a four-star review in the festival magazine. But she’s still had her fair share of “duds”.
‘It’s a rite of passage for getting through it’: Emma Holland
“Two days ago, it was pouring rain outside [which means less foot traffic for people to pick up flyers for gigs],” she says. “I had eight old Scottish people in and a reviewer. It was like someone had died in the room … One guy fell asleep, and another woman, every time she didn’t understand a joke, she would look at my tech to get him to explain.”
“I felt proud of myself, though. It’s a rite of passage for getting through it.”
Alex Hines, who has enjoyed sold-out runs at MICF, at the time of speaking is “careening into a weekend with zero presales” and has been playing shows to a handful of people “in a shipping container” – a fact made more difficult as her show is more surreal and theatrical than straightforward stand-up.
“At least in stand-up you can kind of address it, it’s more conversational. But I’m standing there in front of five people thinking, f---ing hell, just wait ’til I put on my umbilical cord costume. Wait ’til a massive, inflatable Grimace comes out here.”
Both comedians – who see the festival as an exciting opportunity to get a foot in the UK – are so grateful for the experience, though, and particularly thankful they didn’t have to personally take on the financial risk. Their management (which also represents Sam Campbell, who won the top comedy award in 2022) is paying for flights, accommodation, venue hire and marketing for a handful of comedians – an investment in exporting their talent overseas.
Other artists, like Tian, have their costs partially subsidised by management. And many have thrown a budget together on their own.
‘I don’t know whether I’m the smartest person dragging a toddler into the chaos of Fringe’: Amy HetheringtonCredit: Karen Lowe/Supplied
Darwin-based comedian Amy Hetherington is able to attend Fringe thanks to a Northern Territory government grant, but, as a mum to a three-year-old, she’s choosing to limit her shows to 10 days at the end of the festival and travel with her family.
“My social media went mad when I said I was going to Edinburgh,” she says. “There’s something so validating about it. It sounds so much bigger and fancier [than doing festivals here], even though it might not be. I’m still performing at a pub, just like any gig at Kununurra.”
So what makes it special?
Though Hetherington is very realistic about what awaits her in Scotland, she says there’s an undeniable cultural narrative around the festival – “that people get discovered at Edinburgh” – and the past winners of the main prize are proof of that.
Colin Lane says his 1994 win “just opened doors”. Lano and Woodley, who had only just formed as a duo, were quickly in talks with production companies, doing shows on the West End and comedy nights in the UK. British film studio Working Title financed their TV series that premiered on the ABC three years later and then sold it all around the world.
Colin Lane and Frank Woodley won the top prize in Edinburgh, then called the Perrier, in 1994.Credit: Fairfax Archives
“It was incredible to work with a British TV director who’d done Absolutely Fabulous and The Goodies and Dad’s Army and The Young Ones … just having those conversations with people where they kind of just get it.” And success in Edinburgh, he says, led to Australians standing up and taking notice too.
This is a frustration for Hines who, like many young comedians, feels that it’s become a “necessity” for Australians to try their luck overseas.
“Anybody who makes work that is fast-paced or innovative, bold or crazy, you have to go overseas because Australia just doesn’t want it,” she says. “I find it embarrassing.”
Alex Hines is one of many local comedians who feel Australia is overlooking young, eccentric talent.
“Nobody wants to take a risk … And then once someone overseas validates it, then it’s like, ‘oh, okay, that is acceptable’.”
It’s become a common criticism for all networks but especially the ABC, which once championed young and offbeat talent.
“It is frustrating,” Lane says, choosing his words carefully. “But I think Australian networks have always been averse to risk because it’s a small market, and they have to be … and with the ABC’s budgetary constraints, they had to shift the way they think. Comedians behind panels are cheaper to make than narrative single-camera comedy [which is what we did].”
For most comedians – Hines included – getting “discovered” at Edinburgh is the last thing on their minds, though. Instead, it’s all about honing their comedy, experimenting with different audiences and absorbing other people’s creativity.
“I want to come out at the end of the month being inspired and feeling hungry to write another show,” Tian says.
And though Hetherington is looking forward to meeting people and thinking about her next steps, ultimately Edinburgh is one for the bucket list: “If comedy just stopped for me, I would love to be able to say to my daughter that one time I did the Edinburgh Fringe.”
A cultural guide to going out and loving your city. Sign up to our Culture Fix newsletter here.