It’s 2008 in nowhere America and Eliot, a gawky 15-year-old emo kid, is desperate to be someone’s little spoon. This pitch-black character comedy from Derek Mitchell nails its period details (Eliot’s Jack Skellington tee and checkered wristbands will be painfully familiar to any MySpace teen) and brings a real sweetness to its gross-out, teen boy humour. Gangly, awkward, tender and closeted, Eliot wipes his nose on his sleeve and laughs, bug-eyed, at his own jokes: it takes just seconds to root for him, but a little longer to understand the dangerously high stakes of his loneliness.
Eliot’s spiralling monologue is told to his imaginary friend Goblin – that’s us. We showed up after the violent death of his older brother and are his only real confidantes during this rapidly darkening coming-of-age story, via absentee parents, predators, reality TV stars and a grimy spin cycle studio.
It’s a disturbing, inventive set-up for an hour that is also, against the odds, genuinely funny. Mitchell’s character work is nuanced and goofy, with hilarious accent work and sharp timing which plays on split-seconds of sound design. But when the light leaves Eliot’s eyes, this show’s confessional mode switches focus: has Goblin laughed along to the making of a monster?
Derek Mitchell: Goblin, Summerhall, until 24 Aug (not 11, 18), 9.50pm