In the heart of the Fringe madness, Eli Matthewson is delivering a masterclass in turning chaos into comedy. His latest show Night Terror draws from real-life panic, flamingo theft, accidental strangulation, and surprisingly emotional bed debates—woven together with sharp wit and just the right dose of self-deprecation. A beloved voice in New Zealand’s comedy scene, he’s now winning over Edinburgh one absurd story at a time. We caught up with Eli Matthewson to talk trauma, timing, and why his boyfriend might never sit in the front row again.
You’ve taken a near-death experience in your own bed and turned it into a comedy show. How do you decide what’s funny and what’s still too terrifying to laugh at?
Unfortunately my toxic trait is that whenever almost anything of note ever happens to me at least one part of my brain is immediately thinking about whether I can talk about it onstage. The most embarrassing, intimate, vulnerable thing could happen to me and in a few minutes I’ll be thinking “this could be a good story for the 40 minute mark”.
‘Night Terror’ walks a tightrope between anxiety, absurdity, and affection. What was the first moment you realised this story needed to be a full show?
The core story of this show was such a shocking, unexpected and wild moment that I spent the next few days, weeks, maybe months retelling it to all my friends, and very quickly it revealed itself as a prime candidate for sharing with strangers onstage. We did our pub quiz a few night’s after he attempted to kill me (while he was asleep) and immediately I knew, from the response of my pub quiz team, this story had legs. I am very fortunate that my beautiful boyfriend allows me to share these moments with anyone who is willing to pay the eight pounds to see me.
Break-ins, flamingo theft, accidental strangling – your life reads like a dark sitcom. Has humour always been your defence mechanism, or is this a recent evolution?
I was a little gay kid who grew up in a pretty conservative part of New Zealand, from a big Christian family who was, at the start of high school, the shortest boy in my year group. I must have been funny because I somehow was only bullied into publicly crying a couple of times. I had seen the movie Moulin Rouge twelve times at the cinema (my sister worked there so I got in free) and I told plenty of people that and still survived. Look, I am quite far from having the most traumatic life that will be shared at the fringe, but I have been able to get through much of life by cracking some gags.
Long-term relationships have inspired everything from tragic plays to romcoms. What’s your angle in turning the mundane (like changing bed sides) into something laugh-out-loud absurd?
I think in any relationship, especially if you’ve been in it for a while, some of the smallest points of discussion can become pretty emotionally charged debates quite quickly. I feel like so much of the specificities and peculiarities of our relationships come out when we talk about these things. I have talked to a lot of couples about their attempts, successes and failures in switching sides of the bed and almost always some unexpected nugget will come out and give you a full picture of what they are like at home together.
You joke about slowly turning into someone who might sympathise with ‘tough on crime’ rhetoric. Are you worried that getting older will make you less cool – or just more cautious?
I got the briefest taste of living a life of domestic bliss and that is a dangerous drug! We had our cozy life at home and it can be very tempting to just selfishly think you deserve your perfect little slice of luxury without any concern for the outside world. Getting robbed definitely activated a NIMBY part of my personality I didn’t know existed, but fortunately I’m not so unplugged from the news that I have no sympathy from people in a position of turning to crime to survive. Also I’m so lucky to work in the comedy industry, a gorgeous place where I will probably never have money for long enough to truly cross the threshold into a full noise NIMBY.
‘Night Terror’ feels deeply personal but wildly relatable. How do you balance self-exposure on stage with keeping parts of your life sacred – or is nothing off-limits?
When it comes to material basically nothing is completely off the table. If it’s funny, I’ll talk about it. Fortunately the parts of my life that I don’t really want to talk about are honestly boring and grim. If I ever try to put them in the show, I do hope one of my friends will pose an intervention.
You’ve picked up major comedy awards in New Zealand and internationally. How does your Edinburgh audience differ in what they laugh at – or panic about?
The great thing about Edinburgh is that every night the audience is made up of people from all over the place. Honestly I’m always surprised when I do hear a Scottish accent in the mix. I come all this way to perform to different crowds and then quite often it becomes quite clear that hald the audience are kiwis. I love an Edinburgh crowd cause they know comedy well, so they’ll trust you to try something a bit risky or to stretch a premise a little bit further than you might usually. They’re the best crowds in the world.
If your partner came to every show of Night Terror, what part do they laugh at the hardest – and what part do they still glare at you for sharing?
My boyfriend Sam is a psychologist, and I can’t help myself but add more in more jokes roasting his profession. I love to say that my line of work is more noble. It gets the laugh and the glare at the same time, which only makes me want to push it further. To be honest I have no idea how he puts up with me.
xxx
Eli Matthewson’s Night Terror is at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, every night at 8.50pm in Underbelly George Square. For tickets and more information, visit: https://underbellyedinburgh.co.uk/event/eli-matthewson-night-terror