Those of us who found Simon Amstell's last Fringe outing too self-absorbed by half will be relieved to hear the Never Mind the Buzzcocks star beginning his new show as follows: "One year ago, I went on a painful journey of self-discovery, and discovered that the self doesn't exist."
That opener gifts Amstell a whole new way of interacting with the front row: less "where are you from?" and more "is that moustache more or less than your entire self?" It's also meant to set up a show's worth of ego-deconstructing comedy - although Amstell predictably loses his focus in a set that, again, adds up to less than the sum of his individually impressive comic parts.
Just as I found with Amstell's 2006 show that he'd introduce interesting subjects (ethical consuming, for example) only to dispatch them glibly, this year his material is not as intelligent as it first appears. Yes, it's refreshing that a comic should address, say, the attachment theory of human relationships. But namechecking isn't the same as exploring, and gags can be trite however weighty the subject matter.
Amstell's attachment theory routine comes when relating the breakdown of his relationship, which his dad flatly ascribes to the fact that both parties were men. The break-up plunges Amstell into a petty rage against our lack of autonomy, the tethers that bind us all to the same old routines. "I'm having a baby," a friend tells him. "Oh really," says Amstell. "You know who else had a baby? Everyone." The jokes are funny, the erudition is welcome, but the equanimity of Amstell's delivery, his philosophical detachment, militates against great comedy.
His closing set-piece also deviates too far from the loss-of-self theme. It's his account of the tsunami in December 2005, at which he was present and which he filters through a lens of very English social embarrassment. Even meteorological disaster doesn't disturb the man's unflappable, ironic demeanour - but for comedy's sake, hopefully something soon will.
· Until August 27. Box office: 0131-556 6550.
