Month: August 2018

Great British Mysteries: 1599?

06/08/18

Pleasance Courtyard

Great British Mysteries: 1599? is one of those shows that seems tailor-made for the Edinburgh Fringe. It’s deceptively simple but highly effective. Two actors in slightly dodgy Tudor costumes? Check! An absurdly convoluted story about a search for a mysterious witch? Check! And a collection of truly terrible jokes delivered with such verve and aplomb that they somehow transcend their humble origins to become laugh-out-loud funny? Double check! Thanks to the talents of Will Close and Rose Robinson, who (don’t take this the wrong way, you two) have expressive faces that were just made for comedy, this is probably one of the most enjoyable hours you’ll spend on this year’s Fringe.

Thomas Tyrell and Olive Bacon encounter each other on the streets of London in er… well, 1599 (obviously) and, recognising that they have many things in common, decide to embark upon careers as detectives. Thomas is extremely fond of recounting his years as a sailor alongside Sir Walter Raleigh, while Olive is a mistress of disguise, who spends much of her time trying to teach the (decidedly thick) Thomas how to deliver a punchline. There are artfully placed running gags about bear baiting and the six wives of Henry the Eighth, while a large screen behind the duo offers us a succession of amusing images to help propel the story along. Oh yes, there’s also a mysterious priest who delivers his sermons in the form of contemporary song lyrics, a pig who seems to be  permanently fertile, and the added delight of watching Thomas and Olive dance the occasional fleet-footed gavotte. What’s not to like?

Students of history will learn precisely nothing from this production, but those who like to chortle, snigger and even let out the occasional hoot of hilarity will certainly enjoy their visit to the year 1599.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

 

Lovecraft (Not the Sex Shop in Cardiff)

Lovecraft1.jpg

05/08/18

Summerhall, Edinburgh

Sporting one of the most unforgettable titles of the festival, Lovecraft (Not the Sex Shop in Cardiff) is the creation of Carys Eleri. She swaggers into Summerhall’s Red Lecture Theatre from behind the audience, announcing into a microphone that she is the goddess of love and that she is here to spread the word.

I’ll admit that at first I don’t think I’m going to like this very much but, happily, I’m wrong. Eleri’s vivacious personality soon wins me over and I start to enjoy her witty and enthusiastically presented songs, which range in style from hip-hop to power ballad and all points in between. It helps that she has a terrific singing voice and the kind of bubbly personality that you can’t help but like.

She promptly takes us on a picaresque journey through her (mostly disastrous) love life. She’s clearly done some research here, concentrating on the science of human attraction. Her subjects include endorphins, neuro-transmitters and dopamine and, if that all sounds a bit technical, don’t worry, because these bits are accompanied by colourful and amusing animations that cleverly illustrate what she’s talking about.

The audience is also treated to a ‘cwtch’ apiece (if you’re not Welsh, you’ll need to see the show to find out exactly what that is) and a taste of some very nice dairy and nut-free chocolate, which let’s face it, is not something you’ll get at many Fringe shows.

Those looking for a bit of light relief from the more serious fare on offer at the Fringe could do a lot worse than head up to Summerhall to catch this funny and engaging show. Unless you’re made of stone, you’ll have a really good time.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

 

Skin a Cat

05/08/18

Assembly Rooms, George Street, Edinburgh

Vaginismus. It’s not an obvious topic for a play. But that’s exactly the point of Isley Lynn’s Skin a Cat: despite affecting an estimated 1 in 200 women, vaginismus is rarely talked about. In an age where we can casually acknowledge scores of lovers, where we can – at last – be open about our sexual orientation and gender identity,  vaginismus is one of the last remaining taboos.

So what is it? In short, vaginismus is an involuntary contraction of the muscles around the opening of the vagina, which makes sexual intercourse painful or impossible. And, in Alana (Lydia Larson)’s case, as she gets into bed with a boy at a party, this results in a panic attack that leaves her short of oxygen and fitting. Not the most auspicious way to start off her sex life.

Despite – and sometimes because of – the awkwardness of the subject matter, this is a very funny piece, engagingly performed by a trio of actors. Lydia Larson, in the central role, is mesmerising, actually: uneasy and vulnerable, yet lively and confident; clever and articulate, but unable to give voice to her deepest concern. This is a nuanced performance, as naked and raw as the flesh-coloured costume that leaves her secrets exposed. It’s impossible not to care.

Larson is joined on stage by Joe Eyre and Libby Rodliffe, who play all of the supporting roles: Alana’s boyfriends and lovers; her mother, friends – and gynaecologist. They slip effortlessly between characters, bringing Alana’s sexual odyssey to life, adding light to the shade and ensuring this piece is entertaining as well as enlightening.

Blythe Stewart’s direction works well. The bed looms large, centre stage throughout – an unavoidable presence marking Alana’s every experience or encounter. Rodliffe and Eyre are positioned either side of it, subtle shadows of angel/devil emerging as they speak through microphones. The sex scenes – and there are a lot of them – are nicely done, excruciating for Alana, of course, but not for the audience: graphic but never gratuitous.

This is an interesting, intimate depiction of an important subject, and definitely worth taking the time to see.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Zoo

05/08/18

Assembly, George Square

Zoo is a charming and extremely likeable play, inspired by real events and sensitively acted by Lily Bevan and Lorna Beckett. Its greatest strength lies in the characterisations of two very different people, who both harbour incidents in their pasts that have shaped the women they have become.

Bonnie (Bevan, who also wrote the script) is the ever-smiling, ever-optimistic keeper at a wildlife centre in Miami. As Hurricane Hector bears inexorably down on the sanctuary where she’s based, she works frantically to keep her animal friends safe from harm, whilst simultaneously attempting to record an interview with CNN. Meanwhile, in North Yorkshire, dour and practical Carol (Beckett) dutifully guides school children around the bat sanctuary that is closest to her heart.

The women are unlikely friends – they met when they were both on a course at Chester Zoo and have stayed in contact ever since. Clearly they have recognised something in each other, something unspoken that makes them form a bond. Each of them prefers the company of animals to humans – and both will be touched by tragedy as the hurricane approaches. If the flashback sequences in the final third slow things down a tad,  there’s nonetheless, a heartfelt conclusion that sends you away with a smile.

Directed by Hamish MacDougall, and simply staged, this is a poignant yet often amusing tale about heroism and the power of friendship.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Jo Caulfield: Killing Time

 

04/08/18

The Stand, Edinburgh

I don’t go to see Jo Caulfield in order to be surprised. I’ve been a fan of her comedy for long enough to know what to expect – and I’m looking forward to another helping of her sly sarcasm. I’m not disappointed.

It’s Saturday night and the room is packed; Caulfield’s reputation means an audience is guaranteed, and she well deserves it. She makes it look effortless – her stage persona is all shrugs and don’t-give-a-fuck – but it would be a mistake to underestimate the skill that makes this show. She’s sharp, assessing her audience at the same time as engaging us, pushing boundaries with deceptive innocence.

In Killing Time Caulfield sticks to what she knows. ‘There won’t be a theme or a message to this show,’ she says, ‘If you want that, you’ll need to go elsewhere. This’ll just be me, talking about what I’ve done, what I’ve been thinking…’ And it is, kind of – but it’s so much more as well. It’s observational comedy, sure, but a clear illustration of why that genre persists: in the right hands – in her hands – it’s funny. She’s outraged, regularly, by other people’s behaviour, by their rudeness or their lack of awareness, by their sheer stupidity. She maintains a straight face throughout, a wide-eyed insouciance belying the audacity of some of what she says: she’s the queen of bitchy put-downs but she keeps us on her side. It’s an impressive tight-rope walk.

Okay, so there’s quite a lot of men-do-this-and-women-do-that stuff, but she makes it work – it doesn’t seem hack. The observations are fresh and precisely delivered, and the audience response is proof they hit their mark.

There’s a real joy to be had in watching someone so confident and assured. And Jo Caulfield can be relied upon to deliver a great show.

4.5 stars

Susan Singfield

Kin

04/08/18

Underbelly, Cowgate

We first became aware of writer Max Dickins’ work at last year’s fringe when we happened upon his brilliant monologue, The Man on the Moor, and marked him as a name to watch out for in the future. With Kin, he steps away from the performance side of things, but the power of his writing is evident in every line of this excellent drama, which concentrates on the story of two estranged sisters, brought together by the imminent death of their equally estranged father.

The action occurs in a single room of the father’s American home. Lily (Kate Alderton) is already there, dutifully preparing for his demise, when Sarah (Abigail Burdess) arrives, jet-lagged and cranky, to lend a hand. The father remains an off-stage presence, only intermittently heard via a strategically placed baby alarm – but his belongings litter the stage and help to draw a picture of the man. It quickly becomes clear that the two sisters do not really get on: they haven’t seen each other for two decades; something happened back in their teenage years to drive a wedge between them. Lily is married, a stay-at-home mother with two children; Sarah is a fierce loner who has devoted her life to her career. They are worlds apart, and yet they shared so much when they were young. As the hours pass, we learn about the events that have driven them apart, about the bitter rivalries that time has failed to erase –  and our first impressions of the two women are cleverly undermined. We come to understand that what we think we know about them may not be as straightforward as we initially suppose.

The script crackles and spits with dark invective – Sarah’s dialogue in particular is unflinchingly brutal and hilarious in its insistence on making no compromises, taking no prisoners. The performances of both actors are first rate and, by the play’s highly emotive conclusion, it’s clear that the tears being shed onstage go far beyond mere acting.

If you enjoy powerful theatre about family dynamics, get yourselves to the Underbelly with all haste and catch this one.

4.5 stars

Philip Caveney

Dominoes

04/08/18

Assembly George Square Studios, Edinburgh

Phoebe McIntosh’s monologue, Dominoes, is a thought-provoking, engaging piece of work, a prime example of how this particular form lends itself so well to the Fringe. It tells the tale of Layla McKinnon, a young history teacher whose fiancé shares her surname, a quirk of fate that first amuses them but soon threatens their relationship. Layla is mixed race, ‘in the middle’, not particularly interested in racial politics. But revelations about her ancestry force her to consider how the past shapes the present, to make decisions about who she is and how she wants to live.

It’s a weighty subject, but it’s handled here with wit and warmth; McIntosh is a charismatic performer, and there are laughs a-plenty alongside the serious stuff. This is not a judgemental piece; all of the characters in Layla’s story are given space to air their disparate views, which effectively gives us – the audience – permission to interrogate our own identities, our own preconceptions, our own ideas of who we want to be.

The direction, by Stephen Wrentmore, is sprightly; there’s a real lightness of touch. Layla’s wedding dress, for example, dangling from a coat hanger, serves as a reminder throughout of what’s at stake, almost like the ghost of a character, Layla’s potential future self.

An intimate play for an intimate venue; McIntosh deserves to play to a full house every day. Take the opportunity to check this one out. It’s really very good.

4.5 stars

Susan Singfield

 

First Snow/Première neige

03/08/18

Canada Hub, King’s Hall, Edinburgh

The press launches are pretty much done and dusted, the complimentary wine dutifully sipped, the introductions have all been made and now it’s eyes down for our first show of the Edinburgh Fringe 2018. Happily, it’s an auspicious start, an impressive and ambitious slice of theatre, a co-production between the National Theatre of Scotland, and Canada’s Theatre Pap and Hotel-Motel. In the interests of inclusivity, the piece is performed multi-lingually – in English, French and two different sign languages. If that suggests the results might be confusing, don’t worry – this is skilfully directed by Patrice Dubois and memorably acted by an ensemble cast.

Artist Isabelle (Isabelle Vincent) summons her family back to the ancestral home in Quebec. Her visitors include her daughters, Mina (Guillermina Kerwin) and Zoe (Zoe Tremblay), with Zoe’s Scots/Congolese boyfriend, Thierry (Thierry Mabonga), along for the ride. There’s also Isabelle’s conservative brother, Harry (Harry Standjofski), whose political views are anathema to the assembled crowd. Isabelle is keen to talk about the family’s future. After all, she’s seen her hopes for an independent Quebec dashed in the 1995 referendum and, more recently, her old friend Fletcher (Fletcher Mather)’s hopes of a ‘leave’ vote in Scotland have been similarly scuppered. Now the spectre of Brexit hangs over the UK. What does it mean for those who dare to dream of a different world?

Though the theme of family ties is uppermost here, it’s nonetheless a politically charged piece and the observation that people’s ambitions are so often dashed by cautious conservatism is eloquently told. From such an accomplished cast, it’s hard to single out an actor for particular praise, but I do relish Standjiofski’s turn as the snarky, sneering Harry, a man capable of offending everyone in the room with a single offhand remark.

With all those different ideologies under one roof – plus the presence of Isobel’s adoptive son, Francois (Francois Bernier), who fully expects to inherit the family home when Isabelle is gone – it’s only a matter of time before things come to a messy confrontation, which they do in spectacular fashion.

This is thought-provoking and prescient stuff – and, if it’s a portent of what to expect from the rest of this year’s Fringe, a very good sign indeed.

4.5 stars

Philip Caveney