You’ll hear a lot of call-backs at the Edinburgh Fringe, but probably not that many calling back to the comic’s 2022 show. Such is the confidence and sheer chutzpah of Marjolein Robertson’s Marj, a phenomenal 60 minutes of accomplished stand-up with an important message to share. Great writing and solid construction are at the heart of this show’s success and Robertson’s forensic attention to detail essentially allows her to bring three different acts, with three different arcs, to one single stage. 

First up is Comedy Marjolein: impish and upbeat, able to mine an everyday observation to almost absurdist lengths. Not in a clever-clever-surreal way though; when Robertson tells you she ate a bit of the moon, you believe she ate the moon. It’s like listening to your pals’ chat, if your pals were really funny.  

Then there’s Professional Shetlander Marjolein, the act that perhaps most of the audience expect to see, despite men from Aberdeen taking umbrage at her accent. This Robertson veers between vivid recreations of her childhood (Shetland’s school system and her family’s work ethic feature strongly) and hauntingly lyrical storytelling, as she drops in and out of telling a traditional fairytale. It’s telling that you could hear a pin drop in The Stand (often rumbunctious and completely packed) as she does so, with the audience not just accepting the gear change but hungry for more. For sure, there’s some Shetlander storytelling witchcraft at play here.   

And finally, there’s Just Marjolein Robertson: survivor and thriver, authentic and emotional, with the confidence to stand up and simply be herself as she delivers a final third that very much needs to be heard (including that call-back). No spoilers, but as Robertson says, if the original story managed to horrify a straight, white male comic then you know it’s bad. 

Pulling these three threads together to create such a cohesive show is an achievement many talented playwrights would be proud of. That it’s also properly funny and proper stand-up shows Robertson is scaling new heights as a creator as well as a performer. Though clearly tightly controlled, it feels effortless; a reclamation and celebration of an oral tradition that obviously inspires Robertson which she has remade to be fully relevant to today. They do say there are no new stories. That might be true. But, thanks to Marjolein Robertson, we now have a whole new way to tell at least one of them. 

Marjolein Robertson: Marj, The Stand, until 28 August, 5pm.