This review is from the 2024 Edinburgh Fringe.
‘So much to catch up on!’ gasps Ania Magliano at the start of her latest set and yes, that’s very much how it feels.
‘Forgive Me Father’ is the young rising star’s third Edinburgh show in three years and her great gift is that where so many comedy sets can feel thematically laboured, Magliano really does come across as a pal getting us up to speed on whatever’s been going on in her life. Last year’s ‘I Can’t Believe You’ve Done This’ was about a catastrophic haircut she got. ‘Father Forgive Me’ is kind of about moving in with her boyfriend, finding it weird, and concluding she needs her coil removed to sort her mood out. (Her father is touched on, though one suspects the show evolved after she came up with the title).
As with ‘I Can’t Believe You’ve Done This’, Magliano excels at making herself both the hero and the villain of her own superficially simple but in fact exquisitely crafted stories. Teething problems when moving in with someone new are understandable. But she manages to to be both essentially relatable and to steadfastly painting herself as kind of a dick: from an opening section in which she stews over the fact her boyfriend dared to go out with somebody else for eight years, to her unreasonably snapping at him for trying to be nice to her, to say nothing of her unilateral, medically unsupported decision that her coil is the issue, she is relatable but not necessarily in a way we’re entirely proud of. Not toxic or a fuck up or a bad person, just somebody who consistently struggles to act sensibly.
It is obligatory to mention that Magliano is a member of Gen Z, but part of her winning formula is that she’s a 26-year-old going through a series of formative life experiences with the elan of a gossip-happy but slightly prudish aunt: her account of her awkward and ill-advised purchase of a massive vibrator is just delightful.
Above all she is just an incredibly good craftswoman: much as ‘Father Forgive Me’ feels like an hour-long catch up, it is also exquisitely constructed, seemingly casual self-negging dispatched with Olympian skill. I’d be surprised if we don’t lose her to screenwriting at some point, but for now I do look forward to our annual chats.