What I learned filming five comedians for a whole Fringe, by Stuart Laws
In 2022, Stuart Laws spent the Fringe filming five comedians’ best and worst moments.
Edinburgh Fringe 2022. After a two year hiatus due to the pandemic, I followed Sikisa, Amy Gledhill, Anthony DeVito, Lily Phillips and Josh Jones around with a camera to show exactly what happens when a comedian brings their debut solo show to the festival.
I’ve been performing comedy shows at the Fringe since 2013 and have worked with dozens of comedians over the years, but I never really truly comprehended the pressure they put themselves under. I’d always treated the Fringe as a chance to enjoy doing comedy every day and hang out with friends, knowing that once September comes I would be back to fully splitting my life between comedy and film-making. I run an indie production company and over the years we’ve made a huge number of comedy specials including James Acaster, Nish Kumar and Sindhu Vee, as well as a bunch of TV and online content. So I instinctively knew that my career wasn’t reliant on a month in Edinburgh.
To hundreds of comedians every year, though, the industry showcase and endurance trial of doing their show every day in a pub side room or dungeon is the most significant moment - a do or die pressure cooker that will define their comedy career. I filmed Sikisa, Amy Gledhill, Lily Phillips, Anthony DeVito and Josh Jones experiencing that intensity first hand. This is a gang of brilliant and lovely people who spent the month worrying about audience, reviews, money, mental and physical health as well as whether to hang out with their friend because he now insists on bringing a camera everywhere with him.
There were panics about a review that points out the negative thing that the comedian already feels about themselves, sweating over individual punchlines, and even worrying whether their partner will like the show. Throughout all of this was the looming spectre of the Edinburgh Comedy Awards, ostensibly a positive celebration of comedic brilliance but that also acts as a catalyst for all the stress, envy, disappointments and hopes of most comedians doing their debut show.
Sikisa solemnly told me she was giving me a little time off, which I believe was code for: I’m finding things so stressful I don’t need a camera in my face. So much footage got cut out of the final edit for time and narrative reasons, including me and Josh Jones getting a couple’s massage, Lily Phillips ordering a Chinese meal so big it was delivered in a box that filled the boot of a car, as well as dozens of times I tilted the camera down at Amy Gledhill’s boobs because she squeaked the dog toy hidden in her bra.
The main hazard was brought about by a workers’ strike, leading to overflowing rubbish bins and a rat surge, indirectly causing me to twice fall spectacularly whilst filming. Fall me once: a classic pratfall whilst walking backwards from Pleasance Courtyard to Bristol Square interviewing Sikisa and Josh. Fall me twice: more spectacular as I misjudged the kerb on Cowgate while dodging bin bags and filming a chat with Anthony DeVito about the differences between the US and UK comedy scenes. That scene didn’t make the final edit because the footage is simply unusable - my attempt to ensure the insured camera was safe resulted in the full weight of the fall being taken through my elbow: a crucial part of my body for camera operating. The remainder of the five minute interview was part me apologising, part trying to work out what the liquid on me was, and the rest was footage so shaky that it’s difficult to be certain I wasn’t just pointing the camera at myself. For the next few days the tripod got a lot more use.
I spent 24 days filming approximately 63 hours of material and cut that down into what I think is a compelling, intimate and accurate representation of the journey a comedian goes on for the month. In one hour it showcases everything I love about the Fringe experience and what drives people to sleepless nights and big career decisions. It was a documentary that only I could make. I was living with two of them, directing another, and am very good at operating a camera and asking questions. Though not so good at standing upright whilst doing that.
It was inspiring spending so much time with these comedians. They all arrived in Edinburgh with such different backgrounds and such different comedy styles but all wanted to come out of the month as better comedians. I saw them working hard every day and riding the emotional rollercoaster but coming out of the month with so many successes. There were tears, drunkenness, sombre reflections and jubilant moments by overflowing bins. I realised I had spent so many years doing shows but not having clear aims, things I wanted to get out of the month. What audiences might not realise is how hard the work is and how many people can go into making comedy and chasing dreams - writers, producers, agents, assistants, flyerers, venue staff, technicians, friends and family. Comedians start because they love the idea of making people laugh but they make a career of it by treating it like a business - the best maintain both sides.
In 2023 I returned to the Fringe with a new show and a new attitude - it resulted in my favourite year yet. I then got to take that show on tour and film it as a special. I’m bringing that attitude to a new show this year and hope to improve on last year, to get a bigger audience.
Stuart Laws’ documentary The Debuts premieres on 7 August at 12pm at Monkey Barrel 1, and will also be available via YouTube.com/TurtleCanyonComedy. His comedy show Stuart Laws Has To Be Joking? is at Monkey Barrel Hive 2, 4.45pm, 29 July until 25 August.
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