Edinburgh Fringe 2025 reviews - Eric Rushton / Bella Hull

Depression laid bare & a relationship decoded

share this article

Eric Rushton tells a story that starts with his appearance in the school Nativity play
Matt Stronge

Eric Rushton, Monkey Barrel ★★★★ 

Everything about Eric Rushton is lo-fi. His delivery, his movement about the stage, his interactions with the audience. Even the subject matter of this show – mental health, lost love – is low-key. Yet with his deadpan delivery and finely wrought gags, he commands the audience and delivers a lot of laughs.

He tells a personal story, although one or two set-ups may have some comedic licence. But the core of Innkeeper – about how Rushton has come to handle his sometimes fragile mental health – has the imprimatur of lived experience.

He takes us back to his schooldays when he played the innkeeper in the Nativity play (his improvisation in the role may have prompted his career in comedy, he says drily), through his awkward college years, his first crush and his experiences of counselling.

He says emotions come up on him unbidden, like a stalker. “I don’t remember giving permission to be groped by melancholy on the bus.”

Rushton mines much comedy from describing the life he has had and the life he wanted, which existed purely in his head. His easy self-deprecation and his misplaced approval of his early success on stage add to the laughs.

He neatly brings the story round to where it began, in an unexpected coda, that’s sweet and sad at the same time but touchingly funny too.  

 

Bella Hull, Monkey Barrel ★★★★

Bella Hull ended her most recent relationship after four years. It was “fine”, she says – but is “fine” ever enough? We find out in Doctors Hate Her.

We hear a lot about her ex, whose parents are both doctors apparently, so read into that show title what you will. (Although Hull, deliciously sarcastic, takes some revenge here with her memories of his mum’s casserole.)

Her ex was “boy clever” and knew everything you never needed to know about the Elizabeth Line. Hull, however, comes from a family, including her clairvoyant grandmother, that embraces life beyond this mortal realm. She and her ex come from different worlds that eventually collided.

Along the way, Hull talks about her flat-sharing life, her dislike of housework and her novel solution to not wanting to give birth. She paints surreal pictures but some pertinent truths bubble through about relationships, family ties and her career progression.

An audience heckle on the day I was in could have upended the show, but Hull is made of sterner stuff. Underneath the dreamy stage persona is something much steelier, and the show reflects that, while providing some big laughs.

He says emotions come up on him unbidden, like a stalker

rating

0

share this article

Support the future of arts journalism

Subscribe to theartsdesk.com

Thanks so much for choosing genuinely independent arts journalism theartsdesk’s mission has never been more important – in an age of relentless algorithmic recommendation, sponsored content and unreliable AI, the expertise and discernment of individual critics deeply embedded in their specialist areas is absolutely vital.

If you want more of that in your life, why not subscribe now?

If you do this before the 31st August, you’ll be able to keep at this “founders rate” for life: your subs will never increase! You can choose to subscribe annually for just £40 simply click here
or monthly for £5 per month simply click here.

Not ready to subscribe?

If you want to support with a little extra or aren’t ready to subscribe just yet, there’s also the option to give direct to our crowdfunder to support our imminent redesign and exciting expansion with new features and collaborations Simply contribute here: https://gofund.me/c3f6033d.

However you choose to be involved, you can proudly say that you are picking the right side in the battle for truth and humanity in the modern information landscape. And we will be very glad to have you on board!