Comic, performer, storyteller, actress, improv artist, and Shetlander, Marjolein Robertson’s accent may be the only one of its kind you’ll hear on the circuit, but it’s also one of the more promising and talented.
Back at the Fringe for another busy year, the fab Marjolein also has two other shows over at the Scottish Storytelling Centre. One, a solo comedy-theatre show on Me, Myself, and Mary (Queen of Scots). The other is a more traditional spoken-word afternoon with A Shetland Folktale. But we’re not here to talk about those (yet). No, we’re here for the laughs.
Would you mind giving us a brief insight into what your show is?
I’m Marjolein, a comedian from Shetland. My show this year, well, I don’t know how to describe it without spoiling it. A surreal hour, interlaced with Shetland folklore and observational comedy that I have written that I have been told categorically is not observational as no one has ever observed those things. Also possession.
Tell us about the creative team and process involved?
My brain, oh and my therapist’s. She has helped a lot. Not just with the show itself but also with my brain, who, in turn, wrote a lot of the show. There is also a really nice network of comedians in Scotland. I’m fortunate to be surrounded by pals who are brilliant comics like Liam Withnail, Bee Babylons, Stuart McPherson to name a few. Who have all helped by watching previews and giving me feedback.
How does it feel to return to the Fringe?
The Fringe for me is the highlight of the year, to get to perform an hour a day, an hour where the audience has picked you as well, so you can do exactly what you want, unapologetically so, it’s pure magic. This show as well, ‘Marj’ it’s my favourite show to date, and most powerful, I am excited and a bit nervous to do it every day.
There are over 3,000 shows at the Fringe. So, what sets your show apart?
I think I’m the only comedian with a Shetland accent so no one else sounds like me. Also I am telling a Shetland folktale within my hour, I can’t imagine anyone else doing that. Also unless someone has cloned me and put them on around the festival I’m the only me. Also I don’t think anyone else possesses their audience. So there’s that.
Is there anything specific you’re hoping for the audience to take away?
Yes actually. I ken I’ve not been answering all these questions with the gravitas as some PR person I can’t afford. But let me answer this seriously: Yea, there is a serious message hidden within the layers of the show, and if my show can help anyone, either in solidarity, or maybe even be offering advice for someone in that situation. Then I will have achieved more than I dreamed of.
Your ideal audience is in attendance, who’s watching? Or more importantly – who isn’t there…?
I would freak oot if I looked into the audience and saw myself. Because that means one of several things:
– time travel is possible in the very near future and I have immediately used it to watch myself so: vain
– I’ve been cloned without my knowledge and I must fight this clone, and all other possible clones of myself to the death
– someone has brought a mirror in and it’s taking up a seat and I bet you money that mirror’s not paid for a ticket.
It’s an intense month, so where you’re able, how do you plan to relax, and are there any other shows you intend to see or want to recommend?
I’ve got three shows on this Fringe because I have zero chill. So to get through the month I’m not going to drink. At all. Not even water. Not even breathe (air is full of moisture, especially down the Cow Gate). Also so many great shows. Please let me recommend: Bee Babylons’ ‘Cancer Culture‘, Jay Lafferty’s ‘ Bahookie‘, Liam Withnail’s ‘Chronic Boom‘, Krystal Evans’ ‘Hottest Girl At Burn Camp‘, Stuart McPherson’s ‘Love That For Me’, Lorna Rose Treen’s ‘Skin Pigeon‘, Dan Tiernan’s ‘Going Under’ and, right after my show is finished you can slither into Gareth Waught’s ‘Wouldni Be Me‘ also in the Stand 1.
In your ideal world, how can we improve the world of the Fringe, of performance, and the industry?
I don’t know how you do it. I’m probably not the person to ask. But somehow, it would be amazing to get it back to the spirit of what it originally was. The Fringe is named as such because it was the festival that grew up on the fringes, the edges, of the Edinburgh International Arts Festival, allowing anyone the space to perform. It’s become such a machine of industry and money we’re continuing to lose the real spirit of the festival by becoming too expensive for many to perform at. Omg the time machine, I need to go back in time. That’s why there was more of me rocking around earlier in that answer from two questions ago.
