Good morning,
It’s the third week of August, which means two things:
Lobster-printed swimsuits are on sale
It’s time for Scenes from the Scene
I did a call across the pond yesterday to catch Remy Kassimir (Netflix, Betches) in between performances of her debut Edinburgh Fringe show, How C*m, based on her popular sex-positive podcast. I wanted to hear what it’s actually like on the ground of the comedy battle grounds where performers from around the world come to put up shows and destroy their shoes on cobblestone streets (I’m assuming) for the chance to catch the interested producers and networks seeking the next project to develop into a series or special. This newsletter will cover:
The inside scoop on Fringe fest
5 other things that just happened where comedy meets commerce
An Abe Vigoda mention
Now, let’s begin.
The Scene: Edinburgh Fringe Festival. The comedy person: Remy Kassimir.
Laurel Cummings: I’ve looked casually at the application process. Can you speak to it a little bit?
Remy Kassimir: Not too difficult, but you need to know which venues to apply to and how long a run to commit to, and go in accepting “there’s a 90% chance I don’t make any of this money back,” treating it purely as a building/learning investment.
LC: What made you decide to revive your podcast as a fringe show?
RK: I have wanted to write How C*m as a Solo Show for a really long time, and I just— there’s no spaces in New York or LA that I feel like you can just go work out solo material. [Whereas], you can work out stand-up anywhere.
LC: Do you work your stand-up into the act?
RK: Yeah, the first 10 minutes are jokes that, like, I’ve been doing for the past, like, 10 years that just, like, fit into the category. Then it’s, like, a bunch of stories that I’ve been telling for 20 years. They’re just, like, bullet points, essentially, that I’m like, “I just have to tell this story the way that I tell it when I’m opening up to somebody.”
And then obviously, like, any Fringe show, there’s, the hero’s journey, and then, how you break through and how you wrap it up in a nice bow that makes everyone go, “Ah, well, that applies to me too.”
LC: Right.
RK: And then you go, “Great. Leave. Good. Go forward. Feel great.” There was a girl the first night who was like, “I got more out of this show than six years’ worth of therapy.” And I was like, “Cool. I’m done.”
LC: Put that on the poster. Are you comfortable saying how much it costs to produce and promote?
RK: It depends. There are tiers. There’s free fringe…You should talk to [another comic we both know from New York] Katie Boyle about that, because she’s done everything herself. I didn’t pay for flyers [meaning, paying people to bark and recruit an audience for your show], because I was like, “I don’t think anybody could sell my show like me.”
My show is for a very specific audience. I say, “This is a show for girls and cool boys. If that’s not you, don’t come.”
I flyer for an hour before my show every night, and that’s where most of my ticket sales have come from. I made a huge investment: I split the centerfold in the Just the Tonic [for 600 pounds]– it’s not a playbill, but it’s a book of all of their shows. There are a bunch of different companies that put on shows here. Just the Tonic seems like what a lot of first-years do, because it’s easy to get in and it’s very pay-to-play…
LC: What’s the vibe there? Is it competitive between other performers? Do you feel like you’re auditioning for the same show? Or is it more of a community?
RK: It’s both. I feel like you’re always comparing yourself to other comedians…[but it’s also summer camp vibes. It all feels very J.K. Rowling]. And [when other comics’ shows are consistently sold out] you kind of wrestle with: “I wish I was able to say sold out, because that seems like a real stamp of approval.” I think it’s very competitive too, of who gets a reviewer at your show.
LC: How’s the food?
RK: Asian food is really good in Scotland. I’ve had a lot of sushi. I’ve had a lot of Chinese. Today I went to a place that was kind of like if Smorgasburg meets EPCOT. It was great. It was, like, there was, like, a Nepalese food truck. It was, like, a Japanese food truck, a Korean food truck, um, a Lebanese food truck.
There was, I want to say, a Nordic something, because they had a dish called hygge. And then also, there were saunas and hot tubs there. Fantastic.
LC: What’s the crowd like?
RK: The crowds, it depends on the show. I would say to any future people and what I’ve said to any people here performing is that profiling is bad, except when you’re flyering. You want people who are going to like your show. I’ve had some really terrible guys come who literally paid to heckle me, came in the last 20 minutes. I f*cking told them not to come.
LC: Is there any security there?
RK: Not really.
LC: How do you get them out?
RK: My audience kicked them out.
LC: The girls and the cool boys.
RK: It was the girls, the cool boys, an older Polish woman got in their faces and started screaming at them. And they were— she was like, “It’s time for you and you and you to leave.”
It’s called CringeMart. Hemorrhoid cream, plungers, condoms, US Weekly magazine. They built out a dedicated hub in the app, a five-episode hidden-camera series with Tana Mongeau, and billboards in LA and New York running a live count of condoms purchased. As per Head of Social, Zaria Parvez: “We’ve all experienced being in-person, having to buy a super cringe item, and how awkward that feeling is.” Wow.
He plays Devlin St. John, Salem’s water inspector, confronting EJ DiMera about DiMera Pharma dumping a faulty batch of drugs into a well. I have no clue who EJ is and don’t intend to, but this is all very Jimmy Fallon-coded, not derogatory.
Job description: Title: Chief Online Chill Officer. Hybrid, Chicago area, Aug 24 through Sept 3. Calm down, everyone, submissions are closed, and also a 100% PR stunt. The gig is to find heated internet moments and reply with a witty comment and a coupon for Snickers Ice Cream Minis. AKA, a social media manager. Cute idea, but also, maybe just pay your SMMs more and leave UGC in 2019? On the plus side, this is a great example of comedy for commerce and has earned its place in this newsletter.
With 30 Seconds to Mars having some image issues, Conan has stepped in with his band. He plays vocals and guitar, backed by session musicians who’ve played with Beck, Shakira, and Norah Jones. Debuted Monday at Permanent Records Roadhouse, played the Troubadour Thursday. Utter coincidence that his HBO MAX travel show is back, I’m sure.
SNL UK is back for its second season September 12 on Sky. All eleven cast members returning and this time they are doing twelve episodes instead of eight. Streams Sundays on Peacock stateside. No hosts announced yet. Cheerio…’s would make a great brand partner.
You’ve reached the end. Thank you for reading the weekly comedy briefing. Each week, I write this mostly free newsletter and a curated list of open part-time gigs and full-time jobs for comedy people for paid subscribers. I am not responsible for any of those jobs that turn out to be whack.
This newsletter is part of Free Puppies Creative, a company I founded and run that helps brands make money being funny.
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