Edinburgh Fringe: The internet comedy sensations sprang onto the stage from TikTok
During the epidemic, a lot of new comedians garnered sizable TikTok followings. Now, some people are attempting to use live performances at the Edinburgh Fringe to turn viral celebrities into on-stage success.
Due to its open sharing platform for quick, humorous films, TikTok has become a significant influence in comedy. This year, the business is also hosting a virtual stage and supporting Edinburgh’s yearly comedy festival.
Even if stand-up comedy won’t likely be replaced by social media, it has made it possible for a new generation of aspiring comedians to break through the industry’s barriers.
“I have what would have taken me ten years,”
In the past (i.e., a few years ago), a comic attending Edinburgh would expect to be seen by a manager or TV producer who may one day assist them in gaining a large audience worldwide. Performers like Christian Brighty can do it themselves in a few months in the TikTok era.
Brighty, a 28-year-old Cambridgeshire resident, declares: “I’m going to tour America next year, which is an outrageous, insane concept.” “I’m an alternative comic who, in 2019, was performing in dark bar cellars, which is where I believe Covid started. And I have enough people now to travel to America with my act. That is crazy.”
Given that the US accounts for just under half of his 430,000 TikTok followers, it’s not hard to think that his raucous and witty parodies of lusty historical plays would be popular in the post-Bridgerton age. While on leave during the lockdown, he joined the site and posted a video daily for a month.
It provided a secure environment where he could express his creativity, try new things, and fail. “Posting a subpar video has no consequences because no one will watch it.
An excellent one, though, may be seen by millions of people. During that period, I learned a lot.” He claims that by forcing himself to create more TikToks, he improved the quality of his joke writing.
His play Playboy, which he co-wrote with Amy Greaves, is set in Edinburgh and centers on another alter-ego, Lord Christian Brighty, who is a mix between Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice and Lord Flashheart from Blackadder.”You cannot simply perform what you do on TikTok in front of a live audience. It won’t function, “He claims.
He claims that the theatrical performance is “the truest version of me” and is more developed. A humorous 10-second video doesn’t usually transfer to a pleasant hour at the theatre, but in this case, it certainly did, according to The Telegraph, which complimented it.
The pressure has increased as a result of TikTok
Abi Clarke spent a year performing low-key events on the circuit before the epidemic, making her “quite new” to stand up. She emerged with tens of thousands of internet followers when the lockdowns were lifted. She now has 360,000 Instagram followers and 840,000 TikTok followers.
Before she recalls, “I could remain unknown, and if a gig didn’t go well, I’d just vanish and think, no one’s going to remember anyhow.” “In contrast, there is more pressure now. People in the audience frequently recognize you or have come to see you particularly.”
Even some have appeared sporting her merchandise. On stage, though, Clarke continues to move slowly. She won’t be performing the typical solo hour-long act in Edinburgh; instead, she will be one of four fresh comics appearing at the coveted Comedy Reserve night at the Pleasance theatre. She states, “I’m still in training.”
“Many people mistakenly believe that you are the same as the comedians they watch on television if they see someone with a big social media following. Well, you’re a well-known comic, they say.
But none of the comedians you watch on television hasn’t been performing for at least six years. And I’ve been going since 2019, other from a two-year period when I wasn’t playing live.”
“To be honest, they don’t actually flow into one another that much. Only twice, I’d think, have I written both a sketch and [live] material about the same topic.”
She claims that her life routine is “a lot ruder.” “On stage, you can be a little naughtier, but, in my opinion, things might be misinterpreted online, or people who don’t speak your language won’t grasp your jokes. So, in my opinion, you must be extremely virtuous online. You must be your upbeat self.
But on stage, I get to display everything of myself, which is incredibly enjoyable since you strive to win over the audience at first before seeing how far you can go without doing so.
I’m going to end my TikTok persona
Irish comedian Lee Brophy gained over 700,000 followers on TikTok when he began uploading parodies as a lip-syncing, LGBT-accepting Catholic priest who “puts the bi in Bible.”
His responses ranged from death threats to pleas for assistance from teenagers in conservative religious homes.
False Prophet, Brophy’s Edinburgh stand-up performance, explores the paradoxical effects of becoming renowned as the TikTok priest; at the festival’s conclusion, the character will essentially be killed off.
At the outset of lockdown, Brophy developed a TV pilot that featured his liberal, jovial priest. By uploading a video on TikTok, the comedian made the decision to test the script.
He continues, “The priest was a pretty small figure, to begin with. “I then posted him online, and others seemed to be interested in his progressive viewpoint, so I was aware that there was a market.
“I decided to just do it, I reasoned. It turned into a routine where I would get out of bed every morning, put on what I saw to be a costume, and sit in front of my phone by nine o’clock, lip-syncing to Taylor Swift.
He claims that his current objective is to “[demonstrate] I am not that person, allow myself the freedom to be a performer again, and to be recognized as a performer, comic, and artist” rather than “to [necessarily] erase that portion because] I’m glad for all the positives that have come out of it.”
It was “so evident that this is merely the stepping stone for something so much better,” Edinburgh Guide said in a five-star rating.
So, following his run in Edinburgh, he will upload a video firing Father Lee. He explains, “I’ve been going along with this because I find it hilarious, but now I kind of want my life back.”
“Someone traveled to Edinburgh from Illinois to visit us”
Chloe and Tabby Tingey, sisters, had given up on their dreams of being entertainers prior to the epidemic. Chloe was employed in digital marketing and received her education at Boston’s Berklee College of Music.
Tabby had retrained to become a yoga instructor after attending the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland. The yoga studio never opened, Covid happened, and the couple moved in together. Strangely, they dabbled in TikTok with weightlifting challenges.
They then made the decision to upload a funny song about relationships after recently being dumped by each other.
Because no one was still following us at that moment, Tabby, 28, explains, “We assumed nobody would notice it.” Tens of thousands did realize they were mistaken.
Their sophisticated movies quickly received millions of views. The fact that we are musical comedians still astounds us every day when we wake up, Chloe continues. This is a huge surprise.
Along with mocking dating and males, they also produce very well-liked spoofs of a party-loving Boris Johnson. They currently have 400,000 followers and frequently change the lyrics of popular songs.
Their live performance, Bittersweet, however, is entirely composed of their own candid and humorous lyrics that mostly criticize manipulative, insufficient, and enraged males or, as one song puts it, “every second-rate Romeo we’ve ever known.”