Month: August 2019

The Legacy of William Ireland

 

10/08/19

PQA Venues, Riddle’s Court, Edinburgh

Ah, the unforgettable works of Shakespeare! Anthony and Cleopatra, Romeo and Juliet, Vortigern and Rowena… wait… Vortigern and Rowena? Chances are you’ve never heard of that one, mostly because it wasn’t actually written by the bard of Stratford but by a wannabe poet and playwright named William Henry Ireland, who also pursued a lucrative sideline in passing off his mediocre efforts as the work of the great man himself.

It all began modestly enough, with Ireland forging bills-of-sale bearing Will’s signature, mostly in an attempt to impress his Shakespeare-obsessed father, but – as time went on – things got somewhat out of hand…

This wittily scripted monologue by Tim Connery depicts Ireland as his deception is uncovered, understandably nervous and ready to flee for his life. Charlie Jack not only plays the fraudster with self-deprecating aplomb, but also looks uncannily like the man himself. I find myself torn between despising Ireland’s guile and feeling rather sorry for him, since the whole deception appears to be fuelled by a desperate attempt to impress the father who clearly hates him.

This is a fascinating look at a little-known historical event and, apart from a bit of dramatic licence in the final act, it sticks pretty close to the unbelievable truth.

Anyway, enough of this. I’m off to forge a new Harry Potter novel. You never know, it might just work…

4 stars

Philip Caveney

 

Frankenstein

10/08/19

theSpace on North Bridge (Perth), Edinburgh

I love Frankenstein. I’ve read the novel so many times it’s as familiar as a friend. I love the story behind it too, and never fail to marvel at the nineteen-year-old girl who could produce such a masterpiece. Of course, I’m not alone. This slim volume has inspired all manner of creatives to explore its possibilities in other forms, and now it’s Birmingham-based Blue Orange Theatre’s turn to have a go. What can they add to the mix?

Frankenstein is played here as a three-hander, focusing on The Creature’s story, with Taresh Solanki delivering an impressive performance as the protagonist. He’s all tension and sinew: a feral, frightened beast. Once in the proximity of humans, he begins to emulate their behaviour, and Solanki’s movements change accordingly: he grows more upright, his language skills develop. The physicality of the transformation is arresting.

James Nicholas and Emma Cooper embody all the other roles, taking turns to narrate the story as the action unfolds. I like the way the narration switches from third person to first as The Creature learns to speak, and the way all three performers inhabit the small stage. Between them, they do the novel proud.

Frankenstein, told this way, is an ideal piece for the Fringe, where a few simple props, some wooden crates and a white sheet can evoke an entire world.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

 

 

On the Other Hand, We’re Happy

10/08/19

Summerhall (Roundabout), Edinburgh

On the Other Hand We’re Happy is a play about adoption – the hopes, the perils, the joys and pitfalls of the process. Like most productions by Paines Plough, it’s brilliantly staged and powerfully acted. Written by Daf James and directed by Stef O’ Driscoll, this is an object lesson in how to toy with an audience’s emotions, and it succeeds admirably on just about every level. It’s a powerful, compelling story.

Josh (Toyin Omari-Kinch) and Abbi (Charlotte Bate) are a young couple in love, who – like so many others before them – plan to become parents. When they discover that they can’t make babies in the usual way, their thoughts turn to adoption, and they even elicit the opinions of the audience when discussing its merits. (The action regularly breaks the fourth wall, but it’s handled so cleverly, it never feels like a gimmick.) When the couple learn of a young girl, Tyler, who could be the right fit for them, they are naturally excited at the prospect of meeting her – but then fate deals them a cruel blow and it looks as though their dream may be an impossibility…

I love the direction of this piece, the way the actors appear to tumble and lurch from scene to scene, cutting back and forth in time, seeming to literally fall from one sequence to the next. Charlotte O’ Leary plays Tyler and also her mother, Kelly – a deliciously sweary Welsh woman, who may have taken some wrong turns in her life, but still wants the best for her daughter. All three performances are top notch, but Omari-Kinch’s physicality stands out. His is a character caught up in a maelstrom of wild emotions, flinging himself recklessly around the circular stage of Roundabout like an out of control automaton.

The conclusion is almost overpoweringly emotional and I watch the actors taking their well-deserved bows through a film of tears. If you like quality theatre, head down to Summerhall and catch this vibrant, beating heart of a play before it moves on.

It’s one of the best shows we’ve seen at this year’s Fringe.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

The Good Scout

09/08/19

The Space at Surgeon’s Hall (Grand), Edinburgh

The Good Scout is – astonishingly – based on real events. In 1938, with the two countries on the brink of war, Lord Baden-Powell and ambassador Joachim von Ribbentrop set up a series of ‘peace and friendship’ tours, inviting members of the Hitler Youth to stay with scout troops in England, in an attempt to foster relationships. British scouts went to Germany too, but writer/director Glenn Chandler’s play is all about one particular (fictional) visit to Bassington in Cambridgeshire.

Gerhard (Clemente Lohr) and Friedrich (Simon Stache) are the Hitlerjugend sent to stay with Will (Clement Charles) and his friend, Jacob (Charlie Mackay), two Rover Scouts keen for a new experience. Will is serious and principled, a law-abiding, anxious lad, working for the local newspaper, harbouring ambitions to become a ‘real’ journalist. Jacob lives with Will and Will’s mother, Rose (Amanda Bailey); the two boys are very close. But the Germans’ arrival highlights their differences, and tensions develop as new allegiances are formed. Secret agent John Dory (Lewis Allcock) adds an extra layer of mystery – forcing Will to choose where his loyalties really lie.

This is, at its heart, a play about relationships – and about historical attitudes to homosexuality. Friedrich is afraid to return to Germany, where he risks being castrated and sent to a concentration camp if his proclivities are reported. Things are better in England, but still dreadful: Jacob has to worry about a two-year prison sentence – and bear the burden of his last lover’s suicide. All four young men are forced to carry secrets, but their association gives them the chance to question what honouring their countries really means.

It’s a fascinating premise, and the performances are good, but overall it feels a bit uneven. The comic interludes depicting Hitler’s meetings with various world leaders are too cartoonish; I understand these are moments of high camp and light relief, but it just seems a bit silly and doesn’t really work for me. I’m also not convinced by some of the plotting, by how easily the boys break confidences and reveal what they know. There’s a guilelessness that makes them all seem younger than their age.

At times, there’s too much stage traffic, too much coming and going. There are no wings in this theatre, so each entrance and exit involves an ungainly wriggle through the backdrop, which is distracting; it would work better if it were more streamlined.

Nevertheless, this is an interesting story that throws light on a little-known slice of British history.

3 stars

Susan Singfield

 

 

The War of the Worlds

09/08/19

Pleasance Forth, Edinburgh

In 1938, Orson Welles’ Mercury Theatre Company transmitted a groundbreaking radio drama, an adaptation of H G Wells’ The War of the Worlds. In an attempt to bring the piece up to date, the story was told through a series of eerily realistic news reports, utilising sound effects and, at one point, even lapsing into total silence – an unprecedented technique on radio. The result was mass panic. Hordes of people, thinking they had tuned in to an actual news bulletin, left their homes in terror, convinced that the planet really was being invaded by aliens.

Theatre group Rhum and Clay reproduce extracts from the original broadcast, but intercut them with a contemporary story in which ambitious podcaster, Meena, visits the town of Grovers Mill in New Jersey, where Orson Welles located his adaptation. The Clinton/Trump election is fast approaching and Meena is chasing a story concerning a woman who claims to have been ‘abandoned’ as a result of Welles’ broadcast. Instead, she uncovers evidence of news articles being faked to further political aims – and to generate considerable income. Writer Isley Lynn is making an important point here. If hearts and minds can be so easily manipulated in the name of entertainment, then the same techniques can be (and are being) used for more nefarious purposes.

Simply but effectively staged, and convincingly acted by Jess Mabel Jones, Matthew Wells, Julian Spooner and Amalia Vitale, The War of the Worlds is one of those productions that prompts plenty of conversation afterwards. Those expecting a straight rerun of the Mercury Theatre’s transmission will be suprised and possibly even disappointed by this – it’s an altogether slipperier and more labyrinthine beast than its progenitor – but it makes its points eloquently and is well worth your time and money.

And you’ll be discussing it for hours.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Daughterhood

Summerhall (Roundabout), Edinburgh

We enjoyed last year’s Paines Plough/Theatr Clwyd collaboration, Island Town, so we’re keen to see what they have to offer us this time. Philip and I are from North Wales, and Theatr Clwyd featured heavily in both of our young lives. It feels good to have a slice of home right here with us in Edinburgh.

Charlotte O’Leary is back, this time playing Rachel, a Little-Miss-Sunshine younger sister with an exciting job in London. Her sister Pauline (Charlotte Bate), who’s nine years older, still lives at home, caring for their disabled father, growing steadily more miserable as life passes her by. Daughterhood is an examination of their relationship, of duty and fairness and doing the right thing.

It’s brutal: Pauline is stuck; she can’t find a way out. Someone has to look after Dad. Bate exudes despair, her face locked in a silent scream; it’s a stellar performance. Rachel cares too, but she’s busy lobbying parliament for access to better medication; she’s not there, clearing up the shit. When she does visit, Pauline’s resentment bubbles over, and they find themselves trapped in an endless argument, repeated ad nauseam each time they meet.

O’Leary portrays Rachel as sparky and likeable, her energy and sense of purpose a stark reminder to Pauline of what she could have had. The dynamic between the two is compelling; they’re on opposite sides but I’m rooting for both of them.

Toyin Omari-Kinch plays a range of supporting characters: Rachel’s colleague, her teenage bestie, a doctor, a professor – and their sick father. The first time he switches roles, I’m momentarily confused, but I soon work out what’s happening from the context – and he changes his accent and demeanour too. From thereon in, it’s always clear who he is, and he steps up to the challenge most impressively.

I like this play. Stef O’Driscoll’s direction means that the frequent flashbacks are well signalled, and we’re always sure of when and where we are. Despite the bleak subject matter, Charley Miles’ script is often laugh-out-loud funny, the humour helping us to engage with both women. I like the relentless repetitiveness of the sisters’ rows, entrenched as they are in the roles they’ve come to inhabit. And I like the fact that redemption, when it comes, is small and tentative.

A lovely piece of theatre in my favourite Fringe venue.

4.3 stars

Susan Singfield

Sweet Charity

08/08/19

Paradise in Augustines, Edinburgh

Bob Fosse’s Sweet Charity is a genuine oddity, a brash belter of a musical that first hit Broadway in 1966, right at the dawning of the flower power movement. It has a delicious  edge of hippy nuttiness about it and a plot that seems to have been generated by a malfunctioning software programme. It also features one of the bleakest endings to an all-singing, all-dancing extravaganza that I’ve ever witnessed. So it seems a brave choice for EUSOG’s Fringe show, with the potential to go spectacularly wrong.

But the students rise to the challenge with their usual aplomb, delivering a high-octane, multi-coloured workout for the senses. Charity Hope Valentine (Tilly Botsford) works as a ‘dance hostess’ at the Fandango Ballroom, a seedy club in New York. She’s always on the lookout for the next big spender and eternally hopeful that one day she’ll find true love and escape from the clutches of Herman (Kirsten Miller), the club’s hardhearted manager.

But when Charity’s latest squeeze pushes her in a lake and makes off with her purse, she begins to suspect great things are not waiting just around the corner. Then she gets tangled up with fading Hollywood star, Vittorio Vidal (Rupert Waley) and, shortly afterwards, finds herself trapped in a lift with the neurotic Oscar (Ewan Bruce). Maybe this time things will work out okay… or maybe not. Ever have one of those days?

Botsford (who we’ve seen in a whole variety of roles over the past few years) is a constant delight in the lead role, singing and dancing her way through the story with evident glee and making us believe that such a ditsy character really could function in the real world. But this is more than just a vehicle for her talents. The vibrant ensemble dance routines are a joy to watch, particularly a frenetic rendition of The Rythm of Life led by Daddy Brubeck (Anna Phillips).

If you’re in need of a little more pep in your life, head down to Paradise without further hesitation and grab yourself a fix. It’ll light you up like a flashbulb.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

Dancing in the Moonlight

08/08/19

PQA Venues, Edinburgh

The first time I spot Miles Mlambo, sitting in a café, is an oddly disturbing moment. I am looking at what appears to be the late Phil Lynott’s identical twin. ‘That guy must be in a Thin Lizzy tribute act,’ I decide.

Well, close, but no cigar. Dancing in the Moonlight is a monologue, written and performed by Mlambo, which describes itself as ‘a play about Phil Lynott’ – and, up on the tiny stage at PQA, it’s clear from the outset that the actor has the bluff Dublin brogue to go with that imposing physical presence. (Oh, in case you were wondering, the name is pronounced ‘lie-not,’ rather than ‘linn-not.’)

He tells us about his birth, his early years knocking around on the streets of Manchester, his subsequent move to Dublin without his mother, Philomena. We learn about his early days playing with show bands around Ireland, his short-lived career as front man for Skid Row and the final roll of dice that positioned him to become the leader of what was to be one of the most influential Celtic rock bands of all time.

Mlambo is a likable storyteller but, if there’s a shortcoming here, it’s in the script department, which lacks the swaggering romanticism that infused Lynott’s writing. Incidents that surely deserve to be studied in more depth – such as being abandoned by his mother – are summarily pushed aside. And, as a long time fan of Thin Lizzy,  I would like to see more of the band’s music incorporated into the story.

But if anyone out there is planning to produce a rock biopic about Thin Lizzy, Mlambo is the first actor you should consider for the lead.

3 stars

Philip Caveney

With Child

08/08/19

Pleasance Courtyard (Cellar), Edinburgh

Clare Pointing’s With Child is a series of monologues, connected only by the fact that each of the protagonists is pregnant. But, in a sharp little twist, only one of the six ever mentions it.

The pregnancies are all visible, and I’m not just referring to the sizeable bump that Pointing sports. These women sit down gratefully, glad to take the weight off, or they rub their bellies absent-mindedly. They snack on weird food combinations; emotions are running high. They’re definitely with child, but it’s not the only thing they care about. They have other interests, other concerns.

Pointing is a chameleon. She eschews even token costume changes, relying instead on vocal and physical characteristics to define each role. It’s a remarkable performance: these diverse women are all utterly believable. (I’m disappointed when she doesn’t do the usual ‘If you liked it, tell your friends’ spiel at the end of the show, because I want to know which – if any – of the accents used is really hers. They’re all spot on.)

From the wealthy gym enthusiast, used to complaining loudly and getting her own way, to the granny’s girl who doesn’t really like her partner very much; from the doormat who finds freedom in zumba, to the transphobic nosy neighbour who thinks she ‘just gives too much’ – these are all quirky, original creations, not a cliché in sight.

The piece is beautifully structured: we spend the first thirty minutes laughing, and then the mood changes. The final piece is poignant and powerful, the perfect place to end.

With Child is a clever piece of writing, performed with real flair.

4.6 stars

Susan Singfield

Louisa Fitzhardinge: Comma Sutra

07/08/19

Gilded Balloon Patter House (Nip), Edinburgh

Louisa Fitzhardinge is an engaging performer, her nerdy enthusiasm both infectious and entertaining. This is a show about language and pedantry, and about learning to embrace who you really are. Fitzhardinge opens with some grammar gripes, then sings us her autobiography, explaining how an early love of reading led to a modern languages degree.

I relate to Comma Sutra well. I too completed a BA in German, and – like Fitzhardinge – went on to study Theatre. I’m a stickler for proper punctuation, and a fan of the Oxford comma. Her subject matter appeals to me.

In places, Comma Sutra is very good; there’s a lot of sprightly wordplay, and the final multi-lingual number is particularly impressive. Fitzhardinge has a lovely voice, and the songs are witty and fun. Sometimes it feels a little superficial though, those gags about apostrophes and misplaced commas perhaps too easy and unchallenging. I don’t mind the dad jokes and the terrible puns – but  they’re not exactly demanding, and I find this section drags somewhat. I think I’d just like her to dig a bit deeper, to explore less charted territory.

Overall, though, I enjoy myself. It’s a pleasure to spend an hour in the company of this charming pedant, and I leave with a smile on my face as I think about ‘oak croissants’.

3 stars

Susan Singfield