The Edinburgh Festival Fringe is the undisputed king of the UK comedy calendar, but skyrocketing costs are forcing many comedians to consider alternative ways of making it big. Sarah Kendell investigates.
As a young, innocent rookie on the Spoonfed Comedy desk, one tenet of my comedy education was drilled into me pretty quick – that the Edinburgh Festival Fringe was the be-all and end-all of comedy events. Like some sacred international meeting of the minds (but with booze), for four weeks in August every comic worth his salt would tread the boards of the Royal Mile, network with PRs and theatre reps and hope for that all important, career-cementing five star review. For the other eleven months of the year, London may well have been the undisputed cultural ruler of the roost, but come August, for comedians, it was Scotland or bust.
What I learned later on in my critic’s crash course was that for many comedians, it was in fact Scotland and bust. Literally. Interviewing Eddie nominee Pete Johansson last year about his upcoming Fringe run, the comic expounded that “I figure I’m going to lose about £3,000 on the show, so if I’m going to lose that kind of money, I’m going to say what I want.” What did he mean, I enquired? That was when I learned the shocking truth – that despite the festival’s rising ticket and drink prices, as well as considerable injections of cash from corporate sponsors, many comics struggle simply to break even in Edinburgh.
For those UK natives and arts aficionados who have been following the festival since its early days, this will come as no surprise. As the world’s largest open-access arts festival, with tickets rarely costing above £10 up until the mid-noughties, the purpose of the Fringe has never been for its performers to make money – only for lesser-known, or more leftfield artists to have a platform to display their work. However, as the festival has grown rapidly in popularity as a tourist attraction, so too, equally rapidly, have the associated costs for performers, whilst the profit to be made – ie, zilch – has remained the same.
Money, money, money – not so funny
Though acts at the Edinburgh Fringe are not vetted in any way, thus allowing the festival to maintain its ‘open-access’ claim to fame, they must still register with the Festival Fringe Society in order to be part of the official program and have their tickets sold through the EdFringe website. The registration fee this year for a full-run show (three or more performances) is £246, which does not include venue rental. With all venues responsible for their own programming, management and staffing, as well as skyrocketing licence fees – the Guardian estimates these have risen by a whopping 763% between 2005 and 2010 – it’s no surprise they’re passing these gargantuan costs onto the performers.
According to the Society’s Venue Guide for participants, venues close to the tourist hotspots of the Royal Mile, Cowgate and George Street charge an average rental price of around £150 per hour-long slot. Multiply that by the 20-25 shows in an average Fringe run, plus the 40-50% cut of box office sales that most venues take, and add-on charges for audio technicians and pre-run rehearsals, and you’ve got a pretty hefty financial loss on your hands.
Despite its huge running costs, the sheer volume of comedians, publicists, journalists and talent scouts that converge on the Fringe every year make it a worthwhile place for any performer to be, and since comedy overtook theatre in 2009 as the festival’s dominant genre, it’s arguably become even more so for comedians. But with more viable options now taking shape in London’s August comedy calendar, and more competition and expense than ever before, is it wise – or even necessary – for those starting out in the industry to come to Edinburgh to ‘make it’?
James Mullinger thinks not. A former editor at GQ, Mullinger is no stranger to how the publicity machine works, and he’s already garnered rave reviews from the Guardian, a spot in the finals of Jimmy Carr’s Comedy Idol competition and a limited run at the Soho Theatre – all without taking a single solo show to Edinburgh. “I just do not understand how other comedians do it,” says Mullinger, who worked three jobs to support himself when he began in stand-up six years ago. “I have done the sums many years running on going to Edinburgh and I just would not be able to do it without selling my son. I don’t have anything against the Fringe and I’m not ruling out doing it in the future, but I just cannot afford to go to a place where landlords and restaurants and venues are ramping up their prices tenfold to screw you.”
Cracking on in Camden
Far from being detrimental to his comedy career, Mullinger reckons not going to the Fringe actually helped him get booked when he was starting out. “I got my first bookings from big name promoters because I wasn’t doing Edinburgh and was available in August,” he recalls. Similarly, debuting his first solo hour, James Mullinger is the Bad Boy of Feminism, at the Camden Fringe as one of a smaller group of hotly-tipped newcomers, rather than amongst a sea of indistinguishable faces at Edinburgh, helped him stand out. “I have done Camden Fringe for three years running now and I love it,” Mullinger says. “You can do as many or as few shows as you want, you are not competing with multi-millionaire capitalist comedians and you can go home every night. What’s not to love?”
Indeed, despite only having been in existence for six years, London’s largest Edinburgh Fringe alternative is slowly starting to garner a reputation amongst comics as a platform where newcomers can try their hand at a solo hour without going broke, and where old hands can take a break from the pressure of success on the Royal Mile without retiring completely. One of these is Luke Toulson, a former Perrier nominee who’s enjoyed success both as part of acclaimed comedy duo Toulson and Harvey, and as a solo artist. “I’d done the last six Edinburghs and I felt I’d hit a bit of a glass ceiling, with interest passing to newer acts,” explains Toulson of his decision to trade Edinburgh for Camden this year. “I thought I’d take a year off, freshen up, and spend two years writing my show, rather than the ten or eleven months you usually have.”
Conversely to Mullinger, Toulson took a show to Edinburgh within months of starting on the circuit with comedy partner Stephen Harvey, and it paid off with a Perrier award nomination for the pair in 2005. Despite this early success, Toulson is the first to admit that there are not only financial, but creative factors to consider before rushing into an Edinburgh run. “I definitely wouldn’t advise going until you have something worth presenting,” he says. “With my double act, we did our first Edinburgh within eight months of forming, and I did my first solo show within two years of my first stand-up gig, which I think most stand-ups would regard as way too soon. As a result, you feel like you’re always running to catch up in terms of material.”
Johansson, who has also opted not to take a new show to Fringe this year, cites burn-out as a factor in his decision making too. “I needed a break”, he admits. “I love the Edinburgh Festival, but it takes a huge toll both physically and more so emotionally. I like the idea of taking two years to write my show rather than rushing it out in one.”
The future of the Fringe
From its beginnings as a renegade, bohemian break-off from the more establishment-friendly Edinburgh International Festival, it’s a sad but undeniable fact that a full-length run at the Edinburgh Fringe is no longer something every comedian can or should attempt. “Doing one good show definitely helps”, says Johansson. “But unless the goal is to become an Edinburgh legend, I don’t see the benefit of killing yourself every year to do it, especially if the financial risks in this economy are as great as they are.”
Nevertheless, no-one – audience or participant – can deny that the vibrant, collaborative atmosphere of Edinburgh in August still holds a certain appeal. For those in the comedy industry, it’s as much a social occasion as a business one, explains Toulson. “For stand-ups, life is a very solitary existence, travelling on your own, performing on your own, writing on your own, often living inside your head”, he says. “Suddenly for one month of the year, you get to hang out and get drunk with other comics. It’s like going back to university.” Mullinger also admits that despite never having done a full run at Edinburgh,“I do still pop up to see shows and hang out with friends. I’m going up for two days to do Richard Sandling’s Perfect Movie and Scott Cappurro’s chat show.”
It is this atmosphere that organisers of similar, rival festivals in the capital have yet to be able to fully harness. Last year’s fledgling London Festival Fringe, having discovered the difficulties of competing with Edinburgh, has now moved its program back to July, whilst the Royal Vauxhall Tavern’s Hot August Fringe, another of the main London alternatives to Edinburgh, has focused its program more towards cabaret acts in 2011.
The Camden Fringe, it would seem, is London’s great white hope for an alternative to Edinburgh. With cheaper, less rigid performance costs, a bill of acts that is steadily improving year on year, and located in an area well-known for its bohemian atmosphere, given the decades to flourish that Edinburgh has had, it could well become a contender on the world arts scene. This, of course, all depends on local support and good word of mouth, which Mullinger for one is more than willing to provide. “I may do Edinburgh one day, but for now I am too well looked after by the Camden Fringe to even consider not spending my August in Camden”, he says.
The pricing out of many performers from the Edinburgh Fringe has meant that scouts are slowly starting to look elsewhere when sourcing acts for the next year’s bookings, so it’s by no means impossible to achieve comedic success without an Edinburgh show. “I don’t see too much of a difference between a year I participate and not anymore”, says Johansson. “Gig-wise, in the UK, I am pretty comfortable regardless when it comes to club bookings.”
What is more of a pressing issue, it seems, is the feeling of missing out on the fun that comes with the festival. “There really isn’t any place on earth like Edinburgh Festival, and every person, comic or otherwise, should experience it once in their lives,” says Toulson. Much like Glastonbury, it seems the thrill of the Edinburgh experience, rather than any material or career gains, is what will for the foreseeable future continue to keep performers coming back.
Luke Toulson's solo show 'Laid Back Grouch' will be at the Camden Head from August 23-25. James Mullinger's 'One Hour of Killer Stand-Up' is at Leicester Square Theater on October 13. Pete Johansson will headline the Comedy Store this weekend.
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