THE SHOW WITH MATT LEAZER
Edinburgh Festival Fringe
★★★★
“Matt’s stage becomes a metaphor for life: a wild adventure, a poem we write to ourselves”
I was standing outside a venue when an artist handed me a flyer. Not just one of the countless leaflets scattered across the festival, but something different: this one had a poem, written by hand, stapled to it.
Racing against the clock to pad pockets
And unlock parts of myself that have been hiding in plain sight,
Confronting truths and lies.
Hiding on stage,
Surrounded by people during the day.
These changes in my heart,
I pray, they stop.
You learn a lot from artists who flyer.
Matt Leazer told me that on a trip to New York, a poet gave him a free poem. He kept it in his wallet for six years. When he eventually moved to the city, he stumbled upon the very same poet—the one whose words had changed his life. A single poem that shifted a man’s path. A poem that made him a poet. A poem that brought him to create a show at this year’s Fringe.
Matt Leazer steps on stage in a sharp blue suit and brown cowboy boots, golden curls falling around a warm, smiling face. He jokes that if this were a real talk show, there’d be a desk. A teleprompter. A house band in the back. Slick lights and big visuals. But Matt’s show doesn’t need any of that. It only really needs Matt.
Matt loves life.
Matt loves poetry.
Matt loves people.
Matt simply loves.
And it’s obvious from the start. That’s the recipe for this evening of joy, kindness, and laughter.
Guests he’s procured during the day appear, sharing curious fragments of their lives with Matt: avocados. geography lessons on Type-A men from Taipei. Boots made for walking. The men we sleep with just to play the new Indiana Jones video game. Anything can happen in the world of Matt Leazer, and he welcomes it all with grace and humour.
This self-described actor-poet-clown-director-sexpot-chocolate-giver believes in happy accidents. At one point, he asks the audience for their rubbish—the little bits and pieces cluttering their pockets. We hand them over, and Matt transforms them into something new, cleansing us of our everyday debris. Later, we ring his mum just to tell her we love her. And by the end, we call ourselves—to remind ourselves to navigate by love, to have faith, and to trust that everything will be alright. Matt’s stage becomes a metaphor for life: a wild adventure, a poem we write to ourselves.
The Fringe is hard. When I picked up my press pass, I stumbled across a mental wellness session for festival artists. It hit me: they just want to put on a show. To be seen. They want someone to notice them. They are poets who want to be heard.
Matt told me he just wanted to be reviewed. I wondered if he was talking to the orange press lanyard around my neck, did he notice that, or—like so many artists here—was he simply talking to the universe, saying: “I’m here. Look at me. See me.”
So, when you’re walking through the streets and an artist offers you a flyer, take one. Let them tell you about their show. Glance at it. Maybe even go. These performers work hard. They dream hard. They hope hard. They wonder if anyone will turn up. In a festival bursting with shows, is there enough audience to go around? Good question. Three artists told me this year they’re considering giving up their dreams. What?
Is there such a thing as the perfect Fringe show? I don’t know. I’ve spoken with so many artists trying to figure it out: what’s the magic ingredient that will catch attention, that will change everything?
And so we circle back to the eternal questions: What should theatre be? What comes next? What is the next next? What makes the greatest art?
I don’t have the answers. Perhaps those of us who’ve studied, watched, and read about theatre for decades are the worst people to ask. Art resists definition. It remains sublime, slippery, and unknowable.
What I do know is that Matt Leazer should make another show, find his house band, invite new guests, and show us more Matt. Because Matt Leazer is a poet and a human. The kind of person who hands you a poem, hoping it brightens your day—or even changes your life, the way a poem once changed his.
His show is special because, in truth, we’re all in our own version of The Show—searching for our house band and our theme tune, our guests, and looking for our lighting designer and special visual effects.
Tomorrow is another day.
Another day for a new poem.
Another chance to fall in love with life again.
To find the poetry we’ll keep in our pocket for six years.
THE SHOW WITH MATT LEAZER
Edinburgh Festival Fringe
Reviewed on 15th August 2025 at Forest Theatre at Greenside @ George Street
by Louis Kavouras
