Now that the Fringe is well and truly behind us, a mere gleam in Edinburgh’s rear-view mirror, I feel comfortable enough to make a confession that has earned me bewildered and offended looks from tourists and theatregoers alike: I don’t like the Edinburgh Fringe. In fact, scratch that, I might go as far to say the Edinburgh Fringe has filled me with rage.
As a non-Edinburgh native, and English person, I recognise that I don’t have perhaps the full expertise and experience to speak fully on this, but I will say that as someone who lives and works in Edinburgh, my first Fringe was an absolute nightmare. I won’t deny that if you’re a performer, or a tourist, arriving in Edinburgh purely to fill your boots with comedy, magic, and theatre alike, your experience may be a different one. But to arrive in Edinburgh and start a new job (on the Royal Mile) just as the festival kicks into gear, I’m happy to concede that I hated every minute.
I arrived in Edinburgh with, what I had imagined to be, a keen sense of the city, having now lived here for two years. Oh boy was I wrong. The Edinburgh I know, and love, is transformed during the month of August, into what some might perceive as a festival-themed cultural mecca. Some see the transformation as what a pedestrian interviewed by the BBC succinctly and brilliantly put as ‘a summer camp for narcissists.’
Let it be known that I am no naysayer to the power of the arts; I love theatre and comedy, and I do believe that everyone deserves a shot at accomplishing their aspirations. However, when I am accosted on the street by leafleteers advertising magic show after magic show and pitiful attempts at comedy by 40-year-old wannabes, I can’t help but feel slightly cynical. There is so much to see – arguably too much — and no sure way to know whether parting with your cash will actually make for a worthwhile 45 minutes.
What is most infuriating is that the festival has distanced itself further from its foundations of creativity to become a place where money necessitates having a good time. Performers outright admit, often onstage, that they come to the Fringe expecting to lose money, with production costs and venue hire hiking year on year, and thus ticket prices become more and more expensive.
If you want to see any show, expect to pay at least £10, and if you want to guarantee seeing something good then expect to pay at least £15, if not a lot more. Even on attending the free shows, you’re often guilt-tripped into donating £5 or £10 (usually closer to £10). Combined with the astronomical cost of food and drinks that begins to rival even London prices in some of the Fringe’s many bars, the festival becomes less and less palatable. Unless of course, you’re a broker up from the ‘Big Smoke’, replacing a weekend typically spent on Clapham Common with a half-hearted, expensive wander around Scotland’s capital.
Which draws me to another point: the tourists. Edinburgh is a city well known for its touristic culture of course, but the month of August turns the city into what many residents can only describe as a ‘hellscape’ (I got that one from one of my Opinion Editors). Prepare here for a broad-sweeping generalisation, but the majority of tourists I met were pretty rude. Working in a tourist shop on the Royal Mile and serving an endless barrage of entitled Americans with more money than they know what to do with truly tested my limits. Not only are they rude, but their constant slow-moving presence means trying to get anywhere in the city during August, let alone to the Royal Mile, proved to be nearly impossible, and infuriating to say the least.
If you’re not stopped by the god-forbidden ‘walking silent disco’, the meandering tourists who stop to glance in every single shop window and at every single street-performer will have you questioning your sanity.
As an Edinburgh resident, it feels like there are no real winners when it comes to the Fringe. Performers walk away defeated by lacklustre turnouts and feeble, if not non-existent, profit margins. Tourists are shamefully misled into parting ways with their cash in exchange for sub-par performances and tartan-themed tat, and residents are bombarded by tourists and skyrocketing prices — although admittedly I don’t feel so bad about the tourists.
“Edinburgh Festival Fringe Crowd” by thisisedinburgh is licensed under CC BY 2.0.