Today we let Dru Cripps take the reigns and talk about the fun of having a late night show…
As an award winning clown, my absolute favourite time of the fringe was late night: it was with my uncle, Rob Duncan of “Printer of the year” fame. We walked into banshee Labyrinth and went to find somewhere to sit and drink, one of the venue spaces still had its mic plugged in so we jokingly started mucking about with each other: pretending that, we had a show on but no audience.
After welcoming In a few loiterers by the door, using one of my favourite lines from Rob’s show:
“Come in, this is a very normal show” the room was completely full in seconds. Late night drunks looking to do something. Anything. So we just carried on. For about an hour and forty. A highlight was Rob, using pure charm and the power of a NY times press Lanyard he had found to goad a drunk chap get up on stage to talk about all the hikes he had been on. Rob connected to the speakers and piped in some sad music underneath as accompaniment, giving the man thumbs up as he shared his beautiful journey. We both agreed it was the most beautiful bit of theatre we had seen all fringe. It was also absolute carnage. We lost control of the room and gained it back again multiple times, as is the danger/excitement of a late night crowd!
“…the later it gets, the less choice people have for a reason to justify why they’re still out of the house and boom! Suddenly your s***** show becomes an anchor…”
One drunk woman cottoned on that I was just mucking about and (enraged) tried to snatch at the mic.
“come on mum” I said, “that’s enough you’re embarrassing me, this is my fringe debut” she responded with “MUM?!” and cracked me across the head.
We had some death threats, Rob had a clown horn thrown at his head along with some strawberry laces. We got a rapturous applause and swiftly vacated as security bundled into the room to shut the show down, making our escape as a small kerfuffle broke out hearing someone in the crowd shout “It’s not even a show!!” As Rob and I fled into the night.
“we jokingly started mucking about with each other: pretending that, we had a show on but no audience…”
That’s the magic of a late show, you get people who are also drawn to the night. People that, like you, are taking a walk on the wild side, people that would want to see a man eat 8kg of cheese for an hour. (Mark Dean Quinn’s “Oh No That’s Not Your Cheese”)
Not the “we’re popping out to see the théatrè darling” folks. You want the ones who have just been broken up with, the ones who are a bit drunk, lost, following weird posters into yurts, banging on the door to hopefully get a seat. That’s who you want in your crowd, that’s who you’re making your s***** little show for – art should comfort the uncomfortable and blah blah blah. It’s also great fun to see a very serious reviewer sat next to a bloke who stinks of booze. Reviewers spend the first paragraph talking about venues anyway, if it’s dark, cold and late out – maybe they’ll be more complimentary of the hovel you’ve been lumped with.
During the day, You’re competing with sandwich shops and tartan tat retailers – the later it gets, the less choice people have for a reason to justify why they’re still out of the house and boom! Suddenly your s***** show becomes an anchor, you’re the answer to all their “ but the night is still young” Prayers.
Hoots Potterow is a prime place to catch booming late night shows and hang out with fellow artists – it’s a great place to have container or tent transform into what feels like the epicentre of the fringe. Like seeing “Master Clown” Dru Cripps Juicy Bits.
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