Leo Hincks debut comedy show ‘Emotional Cowboy’ will be at the Gilded Balloon Teviot – Turret at 3.50pm for tickets go to http://www.edfringe.com.
How does Emotional Cowboy balance heightened theatricality with the vulnerability of discussing grief, insecurity and self-doubt on stage?
When I first set out to make the show, I wanted it to be an hour of unconventional stand-up. My stage persona is a narcissistic version of myself; for a 10-minute set, I can just be ridiculous, but for an hour I would have to give the audience a bit more. The show is partly about how heightened theatricality can be used as a mask, both on stage and in social situations. As the show goes on, it becomes harder for me to hide my anxieties from the audience, causing the show to spiral out of control. There’s an expectation in alternative comedy that you have to “commit to the bit” for it to work, and Emotional Cowboy challenges that idea.
Returning to Edinburgh after what you describe as a “career-altering” loss, did revisiting that experience reshape the way you think about failure and ambition in comedy?
I love describing the Chortle finals like that because it couldn’t be further from the truth. I like to make fun of losing, but in reality it opened a lot of amazing doors for me. Saying that, failure creeps up on me in so many odd ways. I’m told that 22 is a very young age, but I couldn’t feel more behind. My brain comes up with a billion different reasons why I’m not doing enough for my career. It sounds pretentious to say, but none of those stresses matter when I’m on stage because my whole world suddenly revolves around the people in that room, and I love having fun with them.
Your work seems to blur the line between stand-up, character performance and theatre — what excites you most about working in that space between art forms?
The only way I got myself to start doing stand-up was by telling myself that I wasn’t doing stand-up — I was doing a “performance”. Growing up, I never felt like I wanted to do stand-up. I was obsessed with comedy, but the thought of being on stage and saying, “What’s the deal with insert observation?” felt completely out of character.
I think the most exciting part of doing comedy like this is subverting the audience’s expectations of what you can do in a comedy set. I did my first gig outside the UK at Club Cumming in NYC. It was a sea of strangers, and I got them to play members of my family while I came out to them. This “performance” aspect really eases my anxiety because I can just channel it through my unstable persona.
The show explores the pressure of being perceived as either a “comedian” or an “actor”; why do you think performers still feel pushed to fit into one clear identity?
Within the show, the struggle between whether I want to be seen as a comedian or an actor is nothing to do with the industry but more about self acceptance. In the show I give myself the impossible standard that I should be perceived as untouchable yet relatable. The comedian is well liked but not taken seriously, the actor is highly praised but seen as a robot. I think there is a fear that if you commit to one, you’re stuck forever. I disagree and think some of the most amazing work comes from comedian/actors: Robin Williams, Hannah Einbinder and most recently John Early with his film Maddie’s Secret. I’m proud to call myself a comedian/actor – even if I don’t have any professional acting credits!
You cite comics like John Mulaney, Maria Bamford and Kate Berlant as influences — how have their approaches helped shape your own comedic voice?
Mulaney and Bamford were the first comics I really followed growing up, I used to listen to their albums to get to sleep. I adore the way Mulaney wasn’t always the hero of his jokes, and Bamford is just on a completely different level with her spontaneity. Seeing Berlant’s workshop of her one-woman show Kate kickstarted me into actually trying stand-up. I know people say this phrase a lot but that show literally changed my life. Berlant’s ability to blur the line between character and self as well as her use of playing with the form really influenced me. What I learn from Berlant is the concept that the idea in the back of your head might be hilarious, and if its not, try and work with it.
Emotional Cowboy moves between dreams, meditations and imagined futures; what does surrealism allow you to express that straightforward stand-up perhaps cannot?
If playing a character helped me with stand-up, then playing with a script, lights, and sound really helped me make a one-man show. Sometimes when I find an idea funny it’s like ‘how can I translate that into a stand-up joke’. With Emotional Cowboy, I was able to just do the funny idea, no translation needed.
With the help of pre-recorded sound, the stage can become the Graham Norton sofa or the Olivier Awards. Julio Torres is such an inspiration because of his approach: instead of trying to make your humour generally accessible, stick with your original ideas and see who likes them.
I don’t have a big set (it’s basically a chair) but the sound gives the show a more cinematic feel, which adds to its absurdity.