Silly and surreal comedian Ben O’Sullivan answers the big questions everyone reaches in their 30s. Am I a narcissist or is it just the piercing? His show Bermuda Rhombus is playing at Manahatta Bar from the 17th – 24th of August for Edinburgh Fringe and at Aces and Eights on the 4th and 10th of August for Camden Fringe. Get your tickets here.
Your show plays with the idea of narcissism, but not in the obvious, loud way. How do you think narcissism shows up in quieter, background ways — especially in artists or performers?
You definitely have to be somewhat of a narcissist to pursue comedy. We spend our whole lives performing in pubs. It’s either because we want to tell jokes or we’re alcoholics or narcissists most of the time it’s all three, and since working on this show I found it hard to come to terms with my narcissistic tendencies because as an artist it’s super easy to let that part of you completely takeover in the pursuit of creative expression but then what kind of person does that make you if you can’t reign it in?
I think narcissism is interesting because it’s inherently subtextual. It’s deep rooted within people. It’s easy to not see it in someone until you realise you’ve known someone for years and they’ve never asked you what you think or how you feel you know? Then you feel dumb for giving so much of your time to someone.
I believe it’s a very subtle trait and I want the show to reflect that for example I talk a lot about my new ear piercing, now you could see that as a lot of silly jokes (which it is) or you could see it as a character engulfed in his own ego that he assumes everyone needs to hear everything about this pretty mundane change in lifestyle.
There’s a constant tension in creative work: do you want to be popular, or do you want to be original? Where do you fall on that spectrum?
That’s the eternal question isn’t it? I fall on the side of striving for originality above all else and hope you eventually find a group of diehards that love your comedic voice and that’s maybe naive faith but the thought of writing something with the specific intention of being relatable makes me feel a bit hollow, I’m a weird guy and it’s fighting the tide not to embrace that. I see comics that do relatable stuff really well and it’s impressive and they’re funny but that’s never been who I am. Originality and difference is a great thing it may stop you from immediate success and it may be a longer road but it’ll make you funnier and funny wins above everything that’s my take on it.
You describe Bermuda Rhombus as not an inherently personal debut. Why make that choice, especially when so many debut shows lean hard into autobiography?
I guess I’m at a point in my life where i don’t want people to know me I want people to know my jokes and my idea, and a certain part of me is petulant and thinks ‘okay I’m suppose to do an introspective personal show because this is my debut and that’s the formula. So I’m going to do something deeply impersonal’ it’s not a smart career move to zag when everyone zigs but in my opinion it makes for something more interesting.
Last year I did a 45 minute show and it was all about Bowling (no I don’t like Bowling) and it was an objectively dumb idea a whole show about something so benign and pointless but it was fun and it forced me to be creative with my writing, now this show is somewhat different as I’m trying to explore broader ideas but surrealism and silliness and dumbness that’s what really makes me laugh. I saw the great Mark Silcox do a show last year called ‘Women Only’ and he explored serious topics but he did it in a way that only Mark Silcox could’ve and that really stood out to me and made me think, you can just do whatever show you want and if it’s funny enough and creative enough people will like it.
How much of writing this show was about accepting yourself as an artist, and trusting your voice?
I felt truly lucky early on in my comedy journey I had a friend who is maybe the best comedy brain I’ve ever come across and he always told me follow your instincts no matter what and he was the first true believer in me not an idea of what I could be or should be but a believer in the way I’d say things and the angles I would take.
I guess after a few years of doing comedy you come to a crossroads you can either give up or trust that your voice is unique and pray that your inner self isn’t a hack.
And it’s tough right because you see some amazing comics ahead of you writing great jokes and killing it. Like especially in London you’ve got some absolute geniuses on the scene Louie McLean, Candace Bryan, Marty Gleeson and I look up to them because they’re all different and they’re all unique but you can tell they grind out their bits in a notebook
In your mind, what matters more: the writing of the material, or the performance of it?
I think broadly speaking in my opinion great writing can make up for poor performance but poor writing can’t be saved by a good performance. My favourite part of comedy is writing stuff in a notebook working for hours trying to find the right tag or the right line. The greatest comics ever were all the ones who had super dumb ideas but wrote them really well and that’s badass. I think I’m attracted to the writing more because I don’t consider myself a good writer it’s not a natural talent of mine I have to scrape and claw for every bit and maybe that’s why I hold it in such high regard?
Finally, what do you hope people leave the show thinking?
I want people to leave crying of laughter thinking that guy is weird as well but fair play he does look great with an earring.