Paul Levy, FringeReview Editor , A Cafe, somewhere at the Edinburgh Fringe 20-something.
The reviewer sits around the cafe table with the two fringe performers. Names are withheld to protect the innocent and guilty alike. Narcissism is the vein running through the conversation, like dark chocolate lines running through stinky cheddar. Fringe wisdom somehow emerges.
The the Eyes of the Beholder
Amid the laughter, flyers, reviews and phone-glued crowds of the Edinburgh Fringe, two performers sit down to share a brutally honest and often humorous conversation. Through their banter and reflections, what emerges is a vivid and revealing look into the inner lives of performers and reviewers, revealing a shared vulnerability and a battle with narcissism, self-perception and connection.
When Everyone Is Looking Somewhere Else
The conversation opens with a common yet unsettling observation. A friend tries to share something deeply personal, only to be interrupted by someone checking their phone for a new review. It’s not unique. The festival, saturated with performers, reviewers and punters, becomes a mirror maze of ego, self-reflection and distraction. “Even watching someone order a cup of tea,” one of them notes, “they take the tea with more force than usual.” A performance in every act.
The Reviewer’s Dilemma
What is the role of the reviewer? “Objective observer” is the assumed answer, but here the boundaries blur. Even writing a review is, they admit, often laced with an unintentional narcissism: “The level of ‘I’ per hundred words is massive up here.” Pressing the submit button doesn’t end it. Conversation spills out around the work, often more about the reviewer than the reviewed. There’s a performative ego in the reviewing process itself, difficult to avoid in an environment where everything is being watched, recorded, and responded to.
Survival of the Self-Conscious
Being a performer at the Fringe means wearing many hats: creator, marketer, publicist, financier, and sometimes therapist. “We go into a state of self,” one performer explains. This is partly survival, partly performance. The state of “mirror mirror on the wall” may no longer be about beauty, but about visibility, relevance and survival. The pressure to succeed creates a hyper-awareness, a sense of self that is not always by choice but shaped by necessity.
The Internet as a Conduit for the Self
The online world has not helped. “I put up selfies because I want attention,” admits one voice. “But not as a person. As an act. To get people to come to the show.” The line between professional branding and personal craving blurs quickly. The performance does not end on stage. Likes become a form of currency and affirmation, and for some, a way to quantify self-worth.
Is Narcissism Inevitable at the Fringe?
The group grapples with the concept of narcissism itself. One insists, “I’m not narcissistic,” then quickly adds, “but I do look amazing now, I’ve lost weight.” A mix of self-awareness and denial plays out in real time. The Fringe becomes a place where egos swell and shrink on a daily basis. “Are you not trapped in a state of me me me all the time?” “Well that’s not narcissism,” comes the response. “That’s self-sys.” New words invented to avoid old truths.
Indifference or Disdain?
The pain of handing out flyers is real. Rejection comes in many forms, but perhaps the most brutal is indifference. “Is indifference worse than murder?” asks one. “Would you rather someone be nasty or just not care?” These micro-interactions chip away at confidence. Yet performers keep going, driven by a mix of ambition, hope, and the desire to be seen – not just noticed, but truly seen.
The Epidemic of the Inner World
As the conversation deepens, the performers begin to question whether we are all, to some extent, living trapped in our own inner worlds. “When you hit the pillow,” one asks, “are your thoughts about you or the world around you?” At the Fringe, it seems, those thoughts often spiral back to self. But outside the festival, many return to family, to community, to the wider world. The inner reflection softens.
Deliberate Narcissism or Just Doing the Job?
Being absorbed in one’s self at the Fringe might not just be ego – it might be a deliberate strategy. “It’s a strategy for success,” one says plainly. Focus on yourself. Push your work. Maximise likes. Yet, the group agrees, it’s still possible to keep your humanity. You can be focused and still be kind. You can chase success without trampling others. “Edinburgh is a place where you can still do a little bit of kindness in August.”
Beards, Mirrors and Self-Recognition
The final moments of the conversation are marked by teasing. “You look in the mirror more than you need to,” one accuses. “I avoid it,” the other replies. “Except for shaving. Every three or four days.” Narcissism here is not just a pathology, but a shared joke, a dance around the truth, and a way to remain sane in a world where everything is visible, judged and publicly reflected.
And so … a Final Reflection
At the Edinburgh Fringe, everyone is on show, even those who claim not to be. From performers to reviewers, from audiences to those just passing through, there is a deep pull toward the self. But in this honest, often hilarious and gently philosophical conversation, we’re reminded that what we all crave, beyond applause or five-star reviews, is connection, meaning and a sense of balance between being seen and seeing others. If narcissism is inevitable here, maybe the cure is not to escape it completely, but to acknowledge it, laugh at it, and reach beyond it, even if just for a moment.
