In my years of attendance as spectator, reviewer and performer, I have left the Edinburgh Fringe with a renewed sense of creativity and hope for the arts. This year, though, Fringe left me and others more dejected than ever. So where did it all go wrong?
I used to find the Edniburgh Fringe inspiring, with more than 3,000 shows all competing for your time and attention. At any moment, you could turn the corner and bump into your favorite comedian,or stumble upon a show that becomes the next ‘Baby Reindeer.’
This year, though, I simply couldn’t muster the enthusiasm. Speaking to other performers and attendees, I found that I’m far from alone in this feeling.
Word of mouth
The Fringe is a place where art that wouldn’t be put on anywhere else not only survives, but thrives. Given that most shows sell tickets by accosting people in the street with a flyer, speaking to strangers isn’t much of a taboo. I take full advantage by asking everyone I meet about the best show they’ve seen. That way, I can go to the widest possible spread of good shows that I wouldn’t otherwise hear about.
The answer to this question has previously gone something like: “Ok, I know this sounds SO weird but trust me, it’s amazing.” Responses ranged from a one-man mime about circus clowns to an anti-historical imagining of Hitler surviving World War Two in Yorkshire. My own top pick of last year was a late-night bat impersonator, who I can only describe as inexplicably sexy. You get the picture.
Hot tickets
This year, most people’s responses centered around a few predictable safe bets. Summerhall Roundabout took both the top spots with “Playfight” or “My Mother’s Funeral: The Show.” While both of these shows were excellent, they don’t feel truly ‘Fringe’ to me — for a number of reasons.
At a hefty £17, the tickets were more expensive than the rest at Fringe, meaning that many festival-goers were priced out. The prestigious venue also has an unusual amount of input in the development of its shows. This means they are closer to what you’d expect to see in a non-festival theatre. Both are dramas tackling a contemporary ‘trendy’ issue: the cost of living crisis and female sexuality.
The situation became apparent when I spent a few days with an industry scout at Fringe to sniff out the next ‘big thing.’ I was stumped as to what to recommend. No one I had accosted had presented me with a truly intriguing recommendation, and we ended up being guided by professional reviews.
Success story?
Undeniably one of the best things that can happen to you at Fringe is seeing a relatively unknown show, enjoying it immensely, and then watching smugly as everyone else has the same reaction and the buzz begins to build.
I know this, because it’s what I felt in 2023 when I saw “What They Ate The Baby?” by New York-based clowning pair Xhloe and Natasha last year. It went on to win the Fringe First award the day after I saw it, and was one of the most talked-about shows of last year’s festival (including by me, as I recommended it to anyone who would listen).
We are without words… 💛 We are so excited to announce that we are once again recipients of @TheScotsman Fringe First Award for Outstanding Writing. Gratitude is an understatement… HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT#EdFringe24 pic.twitter.com/lTxmPXrAIB
— Xhloe and Natasha (@xhloeandnatasha) August 15, 2024
I was therefore incredibly excited to see their new show this year, “A Letter to Lyndon B Johnson or God, Whoever Reads This First,” which received the same award. But my excitement was marred by the fact that I saw these performers in the same situation as last year.
Despite being the runaway success story of last year’s Fringe, they were still performing in a small, cheap venue after having to crowd-fund to raise enough money for the run. They had transferred to a small London theatre for a short run in September but hadn’t been able to put the show on in their native New York for longer than a one-night preview.
It was disheartening to hear that even if you achieve every hallmark of Fringe success, this doesn’t necessarily translate to success in the wider theatre world — let alone a financial pay-off.
Money talks (or doesn’t)
So if performers aren’t making money off the Edinburgh Fringe, who is? Not the venue staff, I discovered. According to some graffiti that appeared overnight on a poster, “the Fringe pays 50p an hour.” While this shocking claim turned out to be untrue, the real picture isn’t much better. I was surprised to learn that one of the biggest venues, the Pleasance, doesn’t actually define their staff as workers at all but rather volunteers.
This definition allows them to provide a ‘subsistence’ allowance of £560 rather than a wage. Assuming the ‘volunteers’ work a 40-hour week, this works out to £3.50 an hour. More than the graffiti claimed, but still a shocking figure at less than half the UK minimum wage.
The Edinburgh Festival Fringe Association, meanwhile, got into hot water of their own after refusing to drop a controversial sponsor. The Edinburgh Books Festival dropped investment management firm Baillie Gifford after a campaign linked them to fossil fuels. But CEO of the Edinburgh Fringe Association Shona McCarthy defended them, maintaining that “clean money” doesn’t exist and she must take what she can get.
Admittedly, I didn’t hear anyone talking about the Fringe Association’s financial dealings whilst I was at the festival. People seemed far more interested in their own monetary woes to worry about the bigger picture. With one artist I know paying £3000 for a week’s accommodation, I can hardly blame them.
I’m reluctant to blame rising costs for a decline in quality, though. If anything, the situation seems to be driving creativity rather than stifling it. One of Summerhall’s triumphs was about a writer forced to create a play to pay for her mother’s funeral, while comedian John Tothill based his stand-up set around undergoing a malaria trial to pay for his run. All these stories tell us is that artists will do literally anything rather than miss the Fringe.
Stepping stones
So, what does the Edinburgh Fringe’s dodgy financial background have to do with the fact that I didn’t see a single sexy bat impersonator this year?
It’s pure chance at Fringe to stumble upon a fantastic show. However, it shouldn’t be hard to find those who made it doing better the next year. Successful companies should be able to reap the rewards of their success in the intervening year. For actors and writers, this means getting signed by an agent who helps them to secure paid work. A director or producer might be approached by theatres or production companies keen to develop their work.
Unfortunately, agents can’t create jobs from thin air. Struggling to find work for existing clients, they’re reluctant to add to their lists. Theatres are resorting to star power to bring in audiences, rather than taking risks on new talent.
Without this support, young creatives are unable to progress in their careers. The result, to borrow a buzzword of the moment, is a two-tier Fringe. Household-name comedians continue to pack out huge venues, while unknown performers scramble for the remaining ticket sales. The sorry situation looks set to continue, unless money can be found to plug the gap.
