Luke McQueen: Now That's What I Luke McQueen

It’s gridlock in the Counting House as the Omielan faithful pile in. Party jams pump out over a tangible sense of excitement about what’s next from the first real free Fringe phenomenon (three stars). As if 2012’s word-of-mouth smash What Would Beyonce Do? wasn’t clear enough in its female-first focus, this year’s title spells it out – and there are precious few Y-chromosomes in tonight.

That suits Omielan just fine. She’s a rabble-rousing woman on the edge, here once more to galvanise the troops into kicking back against a patriarchy that wants them to be skinny, meek and unambitious – miserable, in short. It’s a positive message, if not a new one – but for raw conviction, nobody can touch the woman with the CD-sized hoops in her ears. A packed room laps it up.

These days she's off the rock-bottom that inspired her last show, yet happiness is still a way off. She craves romance, she’s been rejected by shallow Hollywood, and she demands the right to cry and to grow attached to men without being branded a "crazy bitch". Omielan drives her points home with self-sacrificing abandon, both emotionally and physically. It's cathartic, confessional standup that skips the intellect and goes straight for the gut.

Speaking of which, Omielan goes all-out when it comes to bits on body confidence. One minute she’s grabbing her spare tyre (“my present to myself”) and shaking it for emphasis. The next she’s down to her control pants, barreling through the crowd. Likewise, her material on overcoming the stigma of depression hinges on a self-ridiculing set piece to make a serious point. The story of how medication left her unable to cry leads into a mass weep-along to Adele's 'Someone Like You', showing she can keep the big-night-out vibe alive while also powering through her mission to find strength in vulnerability.

So Omielan has secured the devotion of those she addresses, Beyonce-style, as her “bitches” (the catchphrase sounds a little self-conscious in her Hampshire tones). But when she talks about men, she prone to pandering to female followers with a simplistic them-and-us. Instead, it would be nice to see such a fearsome talker engaging more directly with those who are dragging her down. Omielan’s party can whip up tribal solidarity, but those she seeks to challenge just haven’t been invited.

Much has been made of Omielan's ability to create an arena-ready spectacle in a ramshackle free Fringe venue. But more often, these places house the experimental, the ill-advised and the insane. This year, though, there’s a Big Four show mad enough to give any of them a run for their money.

Luke McQueen’s new hour (3 stars) contains none of Omielan’s crowd-pleasing. He is struggling—mentally, artistically, financially—and if you want him to finish the show, you're going to have to do your bit. When we first meet our tormentor, he's catatonic on an office chair, his doughy physique covered only by a pair of boxers. Nothing happens for a long time, until an audience member finds the courage to kick-start him like a coin-op automaton.

For McQueen, that's consent enough. He launches into an onslaught of intimidation (us) and humiliation (him). There's a nonsensical opening singalong, shaggy dog stories and absurdist fragments of jokes, amounting to a style of comedy that feels distinctly, fascinatingly broken.

He's a discomfiting, desperate presence, bordering on hostile, and the mask doesn't slip for a second. His gaze doesn’t flit focused through the crowd, it burns into each of our eyes. His limbs are restless, and then there's that expression on his face: not so much a strained smile but a dead-eyed rictus that flickers on and off.

We're given little in the way of context for how McQueen got this way. Ostensibly he is degrading himself to impress his dad, who's reluctantly played by one luckless ticket-holder. But that's as much of a backstory as he attempts, and there's not much sense of the mind he's lost.

Instead of a fully imagined character, McQueen seems more interested in finding ways to show off the strength of his nerve. He seems fascinated by—and comfortable with—the most excruciating self-abasement. Witnessing him at work with this medium is a punishing experience, but it's certainly a memorable one.