Edinburgh Fringe: How a young man dressed as a gorilla sitting in a chair made my festival - review

Every now and then you stumble across a show at the Edinburgh festival that encapsulates the spirit of the Fringe – I’m still piecing together what this show is, but this cult comedy is certainly my festival highlight

Last week a poster caught my eye. It was intentionally unremarkable – a sheet of A3 paper sellotaped to a utility box in Newington. The black and white sheet read: “A young man dressed as a gorilla, dressed as an old man, sits in a rocking chair for fifty-six minutes and then leaves.”

I’m not entirely sure what happened in that moment; my knee-jerk response was to carry on walking home after my Sainsbury’s shop. But intrigue took over and within a few minutes had manifested into a compelling urge to see what this was all about – and on this occasion I am glad I gave in to curiosity.

As the title suggests, the entirety of the show is a man dressed in a gorilla costume, sitting in a rocking chair for the best part of an hour. But despite knowing what to expect, the event is truly unpredictable – the first surprise being the hundreds of people queuing outside the Liquid Rooms on Tuesday evening (August 15).

Now in its 14th year, 'A young man dressed as a gorilla dressed as an old man sits rocking in a rocking chair for 56 minutes and then leaves' has become a fringe cult classic

The poster had warned ‘turn up early sell out expected’ – but in my ignorance I was unaware the cult comedy has been a Fringe spectacle for the last 14 years and amassed a loyal following in that time. At least 100 people were not able to get in.

Entering the darkened room, the gorilla was sitting centre stage under a spotlight - I was expecting that. But what I hadn’t anticipated was the cataclysmic euphoria, chanting, singing and frequent standing ovations the protagonist received after performing minimal movements – rocking in his chair, a quick head scratch to tapping his pipe on the arm of his seat.

Audience members took turns to interact with the gorilla, some dressing him with their own clothes, others giving him a stroke, and in what looked like some kind of religious ritual, one woman kept returning with pints and placing them at his rocking chair. Most however opted to stay seated and heckle from their chairs. Some ideas and heckles were welcomed, others profoundly rejected.

Observing the ever-changing energy dynamic in the space was interesting, from thunderous applause emulating a football match then inexplicably transitioning to a deafening silence. The gorilla is obviously crucial to the event but it is the audience which drives the show, with no one knowing what the moment will morph into next.

One man who started queuing outside the venue two hours in advance said: "When I heard about it last year I said ‘I need to come up to the fringe’

There was a feeling of experiencing something special and chaotic together. Towards the end I found myself looking at the audience who remained transfixed on the performer for the entire 56 minutes.

Speaking to one man after the show he said: “There was a feeling of unity but also a feeling that at any point everyone would turn on you. It was aggressive, it was submissive, it was everything – I couldn’t have asked for more.”

One woman said: “I’ve never seen people light up for a performer the way they did for that young man – they were screaming, I thought someone was going to faint.” She said ‘I think it’s an interesting look at the way that people behave in groups to which her friend added ‘yeah, genuinely terrifying.’

Another man thought the event was something that can only happen at the Edinburgh Fringe. He said: “It’s clearly ridiculous but the fun in there was like nothing else. When I heard about it last year I said ‘I need to come up to the fringe.”

For me, it was an event that will linger in my mind for some time – the randomness, uncertainty, silence and jubilation making for a classic fringe memory. Like many who live in Edinburgh I have become desensitised to the plethora of shiny posters that decorate the city in August, but I’m glad that very plain one caught my eye last week.