Garrett Millerick is a very funny human. Sure, his show hasn’t been polished to perfection before arrival in Edinburgh, but he has assembled all of the critical ingredients of a ripping set.
His strap line, ‘Never Had It So Good’, plucked from a certain Harold Macmillan, is a clever choice. Just as our former Prime Minister’s words were technically true in 1957, so too is life technically at a high ebb for Millerick. After all he’s lost a shed load of weight, kicked not one, but multiple addictions, and he’s back in a dingy Edinburgh basement. On the other, just as the populace resented Macmillan’s soapbox claims, so too is Millerick confident that the world is a bit of a grit-filled oyster.
Armed with rich, naturally sardonic tones, he lets rip, and takes no prisoners, including himself, his best friends, and the world at large. The need for ‘more’ dominates his set, the idea that humans are just never satisfied: how else to explain the existence of seemingly infinite sequels to decade’s old movie franchises that no one seems to like? Comedy fans are no exception to this rule. A sensible punter, he explains, would only see live stand up a handful of times a year, not 5 times in the same Edinburgh Fringe day.
He milks this schtick superbly well, his barbs sharp, and continuously laugh out loud funny. It’s a joy to watch him in full stride. It’s a testament to his comic chops that he’s this darn good, and on opening night – what with having been in rehab. His fulsome cynicism continuously flirts with black comedy, but he’s wise enough to only leap across the line once or twice. When he does, he lands with both feet in your face, without the least apology. Maybe some of the audience is laughing despite the better angels upon their shoulders, but the devil on the other is having a ball.
There’s a curious nostalgia threaded through a show which relies on cultural touchpoints, from the ‘halcyon’ days before streaming television and smartphones, through Back to the Future, to Star Wars, and even James Cameron’s Titanic. Though he knifes that nostalgia mercilessly in the back, his affection for his victims remains clear. He might hate all the Star Wars sequels, but we know he won’t stop watching them.
A hop, skip, and a sardonic jump, and it’s time for Millerick to take apart the modern world of charitable fund raising. Instead of sponsoring people to do things they want to do, why not sponsor their self-destruction? It’s quite the pivot, and he sells it with a Machiavellian gleam in his eyes. There’s nothing throwaway in Garrett Millerick’s set, instead he builds a line of humour, layering it cleverly with a fine blend of observation and delightfully unsparing comment. His big punch lines are never knowingly undersold.
This is also a show very concerned with Mental Health, a fraught topic to say the least. If he’s worried, it doesn’t show. Instead he dives right on in, wryly questioning whether the seeming surge of ‘middle class, white men’ acquiring ADHD diagnoses, isn’t really a last ditch attempt to remain relevant. That said, he is at pains to stress his compassion for people with serious diagnoses. He’s ‘been a mental’ too as he would put it, having spent years as an addict, and perhaps it’s in having confronted his own demons that he has formed a dubious opinion of the social media professed ‘struggler’.
No doubt such material will raise some eyebrows, but there’s no mean spirit to the comedy, just unvarnished observation. In a sense he’s just saying in public, many of the things kept within privacy of the home, or the intimacy of the interior monologue. Indeed, few comedy sets this Fringe season will centre time spent with a good friend in a psychiatric hospital, and the nearby Indian restaurant with only plastic cutlery. Yes, it’s hilariously funny, but from it he plucks a surprisingly personal metaphor, never shying from his own struggles, nor his sponsor on speed dial.
This will be, once he irons out the kinks, and settles on the final set, a truly superb show. To be this assured, this sharp, and this funny on the opening performance is simply outstanding. I strongly suggest you grab yourself a ticket before it sells out, and you have to confront the real possibility of dying as a result. If you want to find out why you risk such extinction in a fiery inferno, you’ll have to ask Garrett Millerick. This is comedy to nod along to, laughing merrily – whilst pondering whether that makes you a bad person, or only human.
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