The Edinburgh festival is still a month away, and comedy award nominations are already open. Not the Comedy award, of course – although plenty of comics may already be plotting their route to the shortlist, with tiny figurines of critics, commissioners and the judging panel strategically placed on scale models of the Pleasance Courtyard and Bristo Square. No, I mean the Best Poster award, introduced last year (the winner was Holly Walsh) and revived to celebrate – well, it’s not exactly specified what. An aggregate, we must suppose, of the funniest, most effective and most creative comedy poster at the fringe.
There’s undeniably an art to it – even if “art” isn’t the word that leaps to mind when you have these lurid images pasted to your eyeballs wherever you go during the festival. When desperation to be noticed hits fever pitch, getting your poster right is essential. But what constitutes a good comedy poster? Is it an arresting image that stops passersby in their tracks? Is it a portrait of the performer that exudes funny or congenial, that says “an hour with me will be fun”? Does the poster need to include a visual joke, to demonstrate the top-level gag-smithery we can expect when we come see the comic at work?
Depends what you’re trying to communicate, of course. (For an alternative look at how comics present themselves, check out Louise Reay’s excellent article on Chortle about comedians and clothes.) In any given year at the fringe, there’ll be young male standups whose primary ambition, visually, is look a bit puppyish and keep Russell Howard’s fans onside. Consider Jimmy McGhie’s poster this year, in which he looks faintly apologetic for even having one. Then there’s the poster of generic good cheer, of which Andrew Ryan is toting a fine example this year, replete with some sort of yellow-brick road in the background, the relevance of which isn’t immediately apparent.
Posters are getting better; few acts these days palm us off with standard-issue gurning and googly eyes. Several strive to project cool and confident as much as comical. Witness James Acaster’s striking deep red affair, which says: come into my world, I’m not coming to yours. Or Nish Kumar’s retro offering, with its stylish turquoise wash. (The semi-seriousness of which is at least offset with a dopey show title.) Both images convey status, to some degree: Acaster and Kumar aren’t rookies any more; they no longer have to strain so hard to please.
Equally striking is last year’s best newcomer Alex Edelman’s image, which brings to mind the Open University logo and – in tandem with his title – gives the (probably mistaken) impression he’ll be meeting head-on those who saw his debut show and requested he check his privilege. Then there are the posters that grab the eye by dint of novelty alone: Matt Winning’s 3D image for Mugabe and Me; David O’Doherty’s, with a title in bold, white Helvetica that all but obscures the (lovable) image.
My #edfringe poster for Matt Winning: Mugabe and Me (3D) by the talented @JessMcFilm on @TheFreeFringe #3D pic.twitter.com/K1Cgpb13im
— Matt Winning (@mattywin85) June 5, 2015
Does it matter? I don’t think I’ve ever selected a show on the basis of its poster alone. But then that’s not the point: one or two acts must have lodged themselves in my subconscious thanks to a natty poster, before I saw them for what I told myself were more rational reasons. And I’m sure duff images have put me off seeing shows. Those who cook them up certainly deserve their award. If there was any doubt it’s an art wholly independent of the shows it promotes, bear in mind that the only comedy poster ever to attain legendary status at the fringe was Tim Vine’s in 2006. This humungous display, alongside a leering image of the great man and his name in lights, read: “Tim Vine is not appearing at this year’s Edinburgh festival …”
Three to see
Invisible Dot Cabaret
Joining Adam Buxton and Sara Pascoe on the Manchester International festival bill, the cream of boutique comedy producer the Invisible Dot’s crop (James Acaster, Sheeps, Nick Mohammed, etc) stage this late-night, mixed-bill event.
• In rep at Pavilion theatre, Festival Square, Manchester, until 17 July. Box office: 0844 871 7654.
Puddles Pity Party
The internet has made big box office out of this sad-eyed clown and cabaret star, formerly of the band Greasepaint Out of Atlanta. His version of Lorde’s Royals has had 11.5m views on YouTube; his run at the Soho theatre in London (“sad pop anthems for the party people”) is followed by a stint in Edinburgh.
• At Soho theatre, London, until 25 July. Box office: 020-7478 0100.
Cambridge comedy festival
Liam Williams, Tom Parry, Dane Baptiste and others (not many women, mind you) amuse Cambridge for a few days with new shows they’ll be taking to Edinburgh.
• At Cambridge Junction, 14-19 July. Box office: 01223 511511.
