‘A clever, dextrous hour that has something to say about parent-child relationships, but also growing up in a changing world’
It feels overdue to call Milo Edwards – thrice nominated for Best Comedy Show at previous Fringe festivals – a rising star, but Catamaran exudes the requisite energy, creativity and comic zeal. His most recent hour is inspired by stumbling across a box of letters written between his parents in the 80s, grappling with why he wanted to read them in the first place, as well as the revelations they contain – can you know too much about your parents? It’s a clever, dextrous hour that has something to say about parent-child relationships, but also growing up in a changing world.
There’s a dry sarcasm to much of Edwards’ material, pairing well with some spiky punchlines. The set opens with a 9/11 joke – or more accurately one of his dad’s 9/11 jokes – a family tradition Edwards is happy to keep up. My favourite payoff compares Edwards’ career to that of Nigel Farage – it’s probably this political material where Edwards is at his best, taking a sideways view, spotting a weakness, and then going for the jugular.
Edwards moved back in with his mother during COVID-19, when she was struggling to cope with the loss of her husband – Edwards’ father – alongside the world shutting down. He became intimately familiar with her obsession with Radio 2, developing his own obsession with Jeremy Vine, who pops up in the show a few times. He also witnessed her re-reading the letters that form the basis of Catamaran, exchanged with her husband while he worked in Hong Kong in the 1980s. A big takeaway is that we’re all human, even our parents. Many letters are sexy – describing what they want to do to one another at their next meeting – and Edwards’ father has a gift for visual imagery (talking of pole vaulting out of a plane using his penis). It’s a neat framing device: picking up another postcard signals a transition in the show.
Edwards does seem to have expected more revelations from this box of letters. It feels like they should provide an obvious, sentimental ending. It’s to Edwards’ credit that he doesn’t force profundity where none exists, allowing the show to remain quietly meditative. There are some nice ruminations on quality of life, then and now – Edwards is a similar age to his father when he wrote the letters, but has met far fewer of life’s milestones. Intriguingly, some of the letters were censored by his mother before her death, revealing both that she knew they would be read and that she judged the penis pole vault worthy of retention!
The closest Catamaran gets to a resolution is a realisation from Edwards and his wasp-hunting window cleaner (it’s a long story, go see the show) that “we’re dad now”. While it might lack the emotional gut-punch expected of a tight Edinburgh hour, it feels fitting that Edwards’ somewhat unconventional comic voice also ends with a somewhat unconventional – but no less true – message.
Show Listing: https://www.edfringe.com/tickets/whats-on/milo-edwards-catamaran
LISTINGS INFORMATION:
Venue: Monkey Barrel Comedy at O’Neill’s (The Tron) / Monkey Barrel Comedy (Cabaret Voltaire)
Dates: Aug 5th–20th, 24th–30th
Time: 16:25 (The Tron) / 17:15 (Cabaret Voltaire) (60 mins)
Ticket prices: £12–£16
Fringe box office: 0131 226 0000 / www.edfringe.com