Interview: Garry Starr

The comedian explains how channelling his thoughts helped create a show for all ages

feature (edinburgh) | Read in About 4 minutes
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Monkeys Everywhere
Photo by Charles Flint Photography
Published 15 Aug 2024

Garry Starr – the clown alter-ego of Aussie performer Damien Warren-Smith – believes in the power of acting. In 2018, he attempted to single-handedly revitalise the performing arts by taking on every genre of theatre (Garry Starr Performs Everything). In 2022, he recreated all of Greek mythology to revive Greece’s faltering economy (Garry Starr: Greece Lightning). And this year at the Fringe, he’s adapting literature masterpieces to, erm, save the penguins (Garry Starr: Classic Penguins).

Warren-Smith’s portrayal of thespian delusion is pin-sharp, drawing on the years he tread the boards as a serious actor before falling for clowning. “I never really was drawn to comedy,” he tells me from Melbourne. “You know, I played Hamlet!” 

Seeing the physical comedy troupe Spymonkey at the Traverse in 2009 opened his eyes to the form’s artistic potential. “It was basically four guys retelling Moby Dick, but not in any way telling the story,” he recalls. “I came out of that play going, ‘What have I just seen?’” Warren-Smith did some digging, and it turned out he’d had his first encounter with contemporary clowning. “At the time I didn't even know that was the thing. They’d all trained with this French guy Philippe Gaulier, so I started down that rabbit hole.”  

Gaulier’s influence at the Fringe looms large. John-Luke Roberts, Julia Masli, Natalie Palamides and Viggo Venn are just a handful of his celebrated alumni. Warren-Smith is also on this list; he studied at the École Philippe Gaulier, just outside Paris, in 2013.

I ask what makes this pedagogue of clowning such a special teacher. “I think what Philippe’s truly great at is helping people to access what it is about them that is uniquely idiotic,” he explains. In Warren-Smith’s case, it was his unwavering self-belief; the confidence to complete any task, despite how ill-suited he may be. “Anytime Philippe needed someone in class to volunteer, I'd say, ‘Yup, I'll do it. I can do this!’ And I think he realised quite quickly that's actually what makes me ridiculous.”

This hubris – combined with highbrow references and lowbrow pratfalls – is the fuel for Warren-Smith’s act. It’s made Garry Starr a late-night Fringe favourite. He’s incredibly silly, but certainly not family-friendly, not least because he often bares all for his art. “People always ask why I get naked in all my Garry Starr shows. And I jokingly but also quite seriously say that, if I didn't get naked or didn't perform that late at night, then everyone would want to bring their children.”

That’s all changing this year with Monkeys Everywhere, the first Garry Starr show for all ages. Ironically, though, it sounds more serious than anything he’s attempted before, with Warren-Smith exploring his recent diagnosis of cyclothymia – a form of bipolar disorder. The resulting one-man show combines clowning and puppetry to give a glimpse into his chaotic creative process. “There's this notion of the monkey mind,” he explains, “which is that your thoughts are like monkeys swinging from branch to branch. For me, when I write, it's very much like that. And I think my shows are like that as well.” 

Monkeys Everywhere begins with Starr sitting at a typewriter working on a play, and then a succession of monkeys begin interrupting his work. But this isn’t a show criticising neurodivergent thinking. “It's not like I hate my monkeys,” he says. “The monkeys are the things that swing in from every direction and give me the ideas. But sometimes you just need to find a way to calm them down a little bit. And that's what the show is about.”

Calming the little monkeys in the front row will prove a tougher challenge, especially as there’s as much audience participation involved in Monkeys Everywhere as in the late-night Garry Starr shows. But if Warren-Smith can handle tipsy Fringe crowds while wearing nothing but a ruff around his neck, a theatre full of excited kids should be a doddle.