A cross between the mass appeal of Amy Schumer and the niche quirkiness of Jenna Marbles, Loren O’Brien is trying to work out her own identity. Everyone at school forgot they’d met her, no-one could even remember her name: “Loren isn’t even a name!” she laments.
With this only being her second show at the Fringe, her immediate rapport with the audience is impressive
In contrast to her schooling experience, O’Brien is certainly making a name for herself at the Fringe. The American-Irish comic is bright-eyed and engaging the moment she takes to the stage. With this only being her second show at the Fringe, her immediate rapport with the audience is impressive. Analysing the dynamics of her family members – “I’m so Irish my parents were both ‘O’Brien’s, they get pissed every time I ask them if they’re cousins” - and recalling the embarrassing moments of her youth, O’Brien has a real warmth to her wit.
O’Brien is at her best when in skit-mode, recreating conversations and imitating personalities. If anything, there needs to be more of this, as it’s in these moments that punchlines really hit and O’Brien’s originality excels. The description of her step-dad – who epitomises the uncool parent by playing a pilot simulation game for hours on end in the garden shed - left the audience in stitches. As did the Bridget Jones-style anecdote where she bumps into her ex-boyfriend and new partner in a restaurant and ends up pretending to be their waiter.
It’s not self-deprecating humour that O’Brien adopts though, she maintains that she’s still a “fucking boss”. There’s filthy humour thrown in for good measure, and the glorious immaturity of the 25 year-old more-often-than-not shines through. While political humour is largely avoided, O’Brien segways from one blowjob joke to the next and definitely leaves the audience gagging for more.
Loren O’Brien just wants to be liked, and unless you’re very averse to “cock-sucking” jokes, you’d be mad not to.
