How far is too far to commit to the bit? Ask Harriet Richardson.
Harriet Richardson arrives at this year’s Fringe as a performance artist turned comedian, bringing her comedic debut Creep to sold-out audiences. Built from the “allegedly” true stories of performance art gone awry, the show unfolds as a deliciously uncomfortable hour of dubious DMs, salacious screenshots and increasingly ridiculous redactions.
For someone who insists she is “not a comic”, Richardson does a remarkably convincing impression of one. Creep is less traditional stand-up than a theatrical excavation of obsession, desire and the strange digital detritus that relationships leave behind. Richardson rummages through the evidence with the enthusiasm of someone presenting an increasingly incriminating PowerPoint, transforming private messages and questionable encounters into an absurd comedy of errors.
The premise is wonderfully uncomfortable. Much of the humour comes from the audience’s awareness that what they are witnessing may be real or real enough to make you question where the boundary between performance and confession lies. Richardson leans into that uncertainty, allowing the material to sit somewhere between documentary theatre, stand-up and an extended act of public oversharing.
Her greatest strength is her commitment to the bit. She has an instinct for allowing a moment to linger just a fraction too long, pushing embarrassment into hilarity and turning second-hand cringe into a form of theatrical pleasure. Relationship obsession becomes the central playground, and Richardson mines it relentlessly, finding comedy in the increasingly bizarre ways people communicate, pursue and misunderstand one another.
There is something satisfyingly theatrical about the construction of Creep. Screenshots, redactions and messages become props in a larger performance, with Richardson carefully controlling how much the audience is allowed to see. The effect is part comedy, part mystery and part digital detective story. Every revelation prompts the inevitable question: surely it cannot get any worse? Inevitably, it does.
The material occasionally feels as though it is deliberately testing the limits of what an audience is willing to sit through, but that discomfort is clearly part of the design. Richardson understands that cringe can be every bit as compelling as a punchline, using awkwardness as a theatrical weapon.
Ultimately, Creep is an assured debut from a performer who understands that comedy thrives in the space between sincerity and absurdity. Richardson may claim not to be a comic, but with sold-out audiences, impeccable commitment and an impressive ability to turn toe-curling embarrassment into genuine laughs, she is making a strong case for herself. Creep is weird, uncomfortable and wonderfully committed and very funny.
Show Listing: https://www.edfringe.com/tickets/whats-on/harriet-richardson-creep
LISTINGS INFORMATION:
Venue: Below at Pleasance Courtyard
Dates: Aug 5th -30th (exl. 17th)
Time: 19:00 (60 mins)
Ticket prices: £11.oo
Fringe box office: 0131 226 0000 / www.edfringe.com
Suitable for 16+