Month: August 2022

Bullet Train

19/08/22

Cineworld, Edinburgh

David Leitch began his film career as a stunt performer and fight coordinator, so perhaps it’s no great surprise this his films as a director focus primarily on action. I must confess to having a soft spot for his earlier offering, Atomic Blonde, which cast Charlize Theron as a kick-ass secret agent. But Bullet Train is a much more ambitious vehicle (please forgive the unintentional pun). In this film, a large cast of actors climb aboard the titular locomotive and proceed to kick several kinds of shit out of each other.

Brad Pitt is ‘Ladybug’, a former professional assassin, now attempting to pursue a more gentle method of employment and refusing to take a gun along with him. He’s on a mission to locate and steal a mysterious metal suitcase containing large amounts of money and he’s somewhat dismayed to discover that there are a whole bunch of other assassins on board – and they have no qualms about using firearms. What’s more, they’ve mistaken Ladybug for another operative, a man who they’ve been told to kill on sight. Awkward.

The characters all have equally silly code names, and Leitch – who also wrote the screenplay – has assigned them various quirks in a valiant attempt to humanise them. For instance, ‘Prince’ (Joey King) acts like an innocent teenage girl, complete with novelty backpack. ‘Tangerine’ (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) supports Chelsea football club, while his brother, ‘Lemon’ (Brian Tyree Henry), is a fan of Thomas the Tank Engine… This is all well and good but none of it helps me warm to them. Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I find it hard to care what happens to a bunch of killers. We’re expected to cheer for Pitt, who – conveniently – only offs people who are trying to kill him, but that’s not enough.

Furthermore, the story is so needlessly complicated, it requires a whole load of flashbacks and explanatory side notes in order for it to make any sense to an audience. Okay, the action scenes (and that’s probably seventy percent of the film) are expertly handled, and yes, it does all build to an impressive hyper-violent apotheosis with the climactic punch up taking place on an out of control train hurtling to destruction – but I still need to care about these people and I really don’t. Maybe a more straightforward plot line and a shorter running time would have helped. Bullet Train weighs in at nearly two hours despite running at 275 miles per hour.

Incidentally, because of limited time availability, I watch this film in a Screen X, which claims to offer a ‘more immersive experience.’ This means that selected scenes are projected onto the walls to the left and right of the main screen. I just find this kind of distracting.

Oh yes, sharper-eyed viewers may spot some ‘blink and you’ll miss ’em’ guest appearances hidden in this film. Look out for them. It’ll help to pass the journey.

3.4 stars

Philip Caveney

Ghislaine/Gabler

19/08/22

Greenside at Riddles Court, Edinburgh

Ghislaine Maxwell is largely defined by her relationships with men: she is Robert’s daughter and Jeffrey’s partner. But who is she now, alone in her prison cell, her father long-gone, her ex-lover also dead? She’s a woman of many parts: convicted sex-trafficker, erstwhile socialite, pampered rich-kid, penniless fighter – and the only person serving any time for the rapes that occurred at Epstein’s ‘parties’. The rapists themselves are either dead or free.

In this challenging piece of theatre, Kristin Winters draws a parallel between the enigmatic Ghislaine and Ibsen’s anti-heroine, Hedda Gabler. The similarities are, in fact, quite astonishing, although I wouldn’t have made the connection by myself. Like Ghislaine, Hedda grows up living in the lap of luxury, and is close to her difficult but rich father – and, like Ghislaine, his death leaves her (relatively) poor. Both women are known by their fathers’ names (Hedda’s married name is Tesman; Ibsen explains the title thus: “My intention in giving it this name was to indicate that Hedda as a personality is to be regarded rather as her father’s daughter than her husband’s wife”). Both women are corrupted by their circumstances, and abuse their power to hurt those weaker than themselves. They each seek to influence other people’s fates; they are hungry and twisted, and it is hard for others to understand what motivates them.

So, yes. The conflation makes perfect sense. And writer/performer Winters’ strange and complex play is as fascinating as the women themselves. It’s an exploration of something unknowable, that raises as many questions as it answers. It’s not an easy watch – and nor should it be. It’s as gnarly and difficult as Maxwell and Gabler, as opaque and unfathomable as their actions. Winters mixes physical and verbatim theatre, lines from Hedda Gabler, imagined internal monologue and dance – and the result is extraordinary. Winters’ intensity is almost unbearably disconcerting.

Perhaps the piece is a little too demanding of its audience: there’s an assumption that we’re au fait with not just the Epstein case (fair enough, that’s common knowledge), but also with Hedda Gabler (I’ve got that one, luckily), and with what happened to Robert Maxwell (in my case, just the ‘media-mogul-financial-misconduct-drowning’ elevator-pitch). I’d like maybe a tad more hand-holding to guide me through some of these details.

This is an intelligent and arresting play and, although I don’t enjoy it exactly, I guess I’m not supposed to. I’m provoked, intrigued, and – in the end – impressed.

4.1 stars

Susan Singfield

We Were Promised Honey!

19/08/22

Roundabout at Summerhall, Edinburgh

This, storyteller Sam Ward tells us, is a choice. This: staying here, listening to what he has to say, engaging with his tale. There’s no happy ending, he says; he wants to be upfront about that. We’re free to refuse. To sit in silence for the allotted hour. It just needs one audience member to say, “I would like to begin.”

The risk is small (especially during Fringe, when more than half the audience are probably performers of some kind), but it feels real. I find myself wondering what it would be like if no one spoke. Would we really just sit? But there’s barely a hesitation. A confident voice rings out. And we begin.

This is a story on an epic scale, and the miserable outcome is existential rather than personal. Ward’s whimsical narration takes us on a journey billions of years into the future, when the planet dies, the universe collapses. Our fate is sealed. The question is, do we want to know what happens along the way? And the answer, of course, is yes.

Yesyesnono theatre company specialises in ‘democratic art’, and We Were Promised Honey! demonstrates clearly what this might look like, how it might work. Ward creates a friendly, open atmosphere, where people feel safe to join in, confident that he won’t make fools of them or push them to do things that make them uncomfortable. Apocalyptic subject matter notwithstanding, WWPH! is a joyous, hopeful kind of show, focusing on the small kindnesses and moments of happiness we find in our lives, despite our inevitable demise. We’re all like Richard Russell, the 29-year-old Sea-Tac baggage handler, who went joyriding – in a plane, even though he’d never flown before. Eventually, he crash-landed and died but, for a while, he flew…

This is a gentle, quirky piece of collaborative theatre, and I leave feeling strangely soothed, and ready to embrace the day.

4.2 stars

Susan Singfield

Assisted

18/08/22

The Space@Surgeon’s Hall, Niddry Street, Edinburgh

Jordan (Matt Vickery) is a wealthy tech entrepreneur living in a swish apartment, locked away from the stress of the outside world. Connie (Emma Wilkinson Wright) is his latest partner. When we first meet the couple, they are in the early stages of a relationship, in love with each other and looking towards making some kind of a future together. With this in mind, Connie leaves her flat and moves in with Jordan. He is already unpleasantly smug but, as time goes on, he becomes ever more controlling, exerting his influence over Connie – over what she wears and where she goes.

Jordan’s household is run by Alivia (voiced by Jessica Munna), an AI device that handles the day-to-day running of the home. Essentially, she’s Alexa, only a few generations further on. She’s able to communicate effortlessly with her human companions, to reason things out with them – and, as Jordan is so fond of observing, unlike Connie, she’s infallible. Alivia doesn’t eat, she doesn’t drink alcohol and she has no inconvenient ambitions to become a mother. Jordan knows he can always depend on Alivia to give him the answers he wants to hear.

Greg Wilkinson’s intriguing play, longlisted for the Popcorn Award, takes us just a few small steps into the future and spins a prescient tale of humanity’s increasing dependence on AI. Along the way it makes some cogent points about society’s constant striving for perfection – and how much easier it is for humans to evade their responsibilities by handing them on to their electronic carers.

Unlike many shock/horror stories that have flirted with the same subject matter, Assisted takes a more subtle approach, delivering a nuanced take on its chosen theme. Vickery and Wilkinson Wright play their parts with panache and Munna somehow manages to create a memorable presence with her voice alone.

This is an intriguing and credible vision of the near future.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

The Rip Current

18/08/22

Pleasance Courtyard (Above), Edinburgh

The Rip Current, written and co-directed by Molly Keating, is an ambitious piece of theatre, dealing with themes of truth and identity. It’s his first year at uni, and Jamie (Charlie Bolden) should be proud of his success: he’s made it to Cambridge, after all. But, as a working-class Scot, he’s struggling to fit in. Posh-boy Bertie (James Cummings) keeps putting Irn Bru posters on Jamie’s door, and teasing him about his accent. Adrift, trying desperately to stay afloat, Jamie starts to have nightmares – “or flashbacks” – about his absent dad, Ruiraidh (Max Hanover). The few memories Jamie has are fond ones, so why did his mum, Bridie (Megan Burns), force Ruiraidh to leave? And why won’t she talk about it? After a term away, Jamie’s determined to find out more – about who he is, and where he comes from.

It’s an interesting premise, and throws up a number of intriguing ideas. However, the structure is a little unbalanced. The opening monologue, delivered convincingly by Bolden, sets the subject matter up nicely, but the following scene, at university, is perhaps somewhat overdone. Cummings inhabits Bertie’s role extremely well, but the dialogue makes his sneering too overt, so that it’s not quite credible. The relationship between the two young men is compelling, but – beyond a fleeting vignette in the final moments – we never get to see this develop, nor learn how things play out.

Instead, we’re whisked back home with Jamie, for a long and detailed analysis of how his parents’ marriage went wrong. There are some excellent moments here: Ruiraidh’s slow, deliberate removal of his belt, for example, works well; this restrained and understated piece of direction creates a chilling atmosphere. I also like the way Bridie’s constant busy-ness and bright chatter contrast with Jamie’s inertia and sullen monosyllables; Keating and her co-director, Tess Bailie, clearly have some strong concepts. But the conversation is too repetitive: the dialogue needs to be pared back, to ensure this second half doesn’t lose momentum.

I’m not sure about some of the symbolism. Why does Ruiraidh always enter and exit through the wardrobe door? Is it because he’s been closeted away and kept secret or is it a reference to the fact that Jamie only sees him in dreams? Whatever it’s supposed to represent, it doesn’t quite work for me, and seems a little clunky. The dinner scene is another problem. There are both too many props and too few: the scene is cluttered with dishes, a grater and a loaf of bread, but there’s no sign of the three-course feast they’re supposed to be eating, and this feels like a compromise too far. It would be better either to opt for a more abstract approach, where we don’t see the meal at all, or to at least fill the glasses with water and put something on the plates. Personally, I’d favour the former approach, but either way, something more consistent would benefit the scene.

The Rip Current certainly has potential, but I think it needs some judicious editing before we can really see it at its best.

2.6 stars

Susan Singfield

Feeling Afraid as if Something Terrible is Going to Happen

17/08/22

Roundabout at Summerhall, Edinburgh

The offerings at Roundabout during Fringe are generally very good, but this year their shows are really knocking it out of the park. If this sounds like my cue to say something like, “unfortunately, not in this case,” please don’t be misled. Feeling Afraid as if Something Terrible is Going to Happen is (apart from its tortuous title) another solid-gold winner. At the packed show we attend, the crowd are clearly spell-bound by Samuel Barnett’s performance and that’s perfectly understandable. He inhabits his role completely, spitting out a constant stream of pithy one liners and wry observations with apparent ease. Marcelo Dos Santos’ script is utterly compelling and Matthew Xia’s exemplary direction ensures that the pace is never allowed to flag.

Barnett plays a thirty-six-year-old comedian (we never actually learn his name), gigging in various pubs and clubs around London. He’s gay and happy to explore his sexuality with the many random strangers he meets online, but things change dramatically for him when he encounters ‘The American,’ a handsome guy who, unlike most of his hookups, is clearly in no great hurry to get him into bed.

As the relationship develops, our nameless protagonist begins to wonder if this might actually be the real thing. You know, love and all that.

But then he learns that The American suffers from a very rare condition…

As I’ve already said, Barnett performs this so confidently that I find myself completely immersed in his story, which struts a masterful path from laugh-out-loud jokes to poignant, heart-tugging observations. I quite overlook the fact that the narrator is working me like a master magician, mesmerising me, misdirecting me, even scattering a trail of clues which I somehow manage to overlook. The result? When the piece reaches its conclusion, I feel as though I’ve been punched in the solar plexus.

Both Barnett and Dos Santos deserve huge praise for what is undoubtedly one of the best collaborations between writer and performer that I’ve ever witnessed – and, once again, Roundabout proves to be the perfect performance space for a show like this.

If Feeling Afraid… isn’t on your bucket list, it’s not too late to put it there. Just saying.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

George Egg: Set Menu

17/08/22

Assembly George Square Gardens (Piccolo), Edinburgh

He’s an interesting guy, that George Egg. On the one hand, he’s a stand up comic with a beguiling charm and a nice line of quickfire patter. On the other hand, he loves to cook. Nothing odd about that so far, but George has an unconventional approach to the culinary arts. 

Inspired by his early touring days when he was obliged to prepare his own food in tiny hotel rooms – and reluctant to shell out money for overpriced scran – he’s learned how to adapt whatever’s on hand (or whatever he can bring from his tool shed) to help him whip up a decent meal.

This show is billed as a ‘best of’ and incorporates three earlier Edinburgh shows: Grand Final, Anarchist Cook and DIY Chef. Which, in essence, means that he creates three courses while he delivers his routine. 

For starters, there’s a poached egg and kipper dish, cooked with the aid of a steam-powered wallpaper scraper… and don’t worry, I’m not going to list all three dishes. 

Meanwhile, my mind boggles at some of his escapades. I really wouldn’t want to be the guest who checks in to a Premier Inn and has to cope with a hotel kettle that’s been used to create a spicy chicken dinner! I imagine these days he needs to sign in under an alias.

At any rate, this is a very agreeable way to spend an hour on the Fringe, laughing at Egg’s snarky quips whilst salivating at the smell of his food cooking. And, if you’re sharp elbowed enough, you’ll have the opportunity to sample his creations after the show – but it’s only fair to warn you that the suggestion ‘come hungry’ should be taken with a large pinch of salt. The large audience have consumed most of the nosh before we’ve even reached the exit. Top tip: sit near the door!

I’ve seen a lot  of comedians over the years but I’ve never seen one quite like Egg. 

Bon appetit!

4 stars

Philip Caveney

About Money

17/08/22

Summerhall (Tech Cube 0), Edinburgh

“It’s not about money,” says Michael (Rohit Kumar), the swaggering manager of Tasty’s (Tasties? Tasteez?) fast food restaurant. “What is it about then?” asks Shaun (Michael McCardie), struggling to understand what other benefits his recent ‘promotion’ might bring.

Because, of course, it’s always about money.

Especially in Shaun’s case, because he’s got responsibilities. He’s not here for pocket money to fund a new pair of trainers and a few nights out. He needs a proper wage, enough to support him and his little sister, because she’s relying on him and there’s no one else. Well, there’s Eddie (Matthew Boyle), who’s happy enough to do a bit of babysitting in exchange for a place to stay, but Eddie can’t be counted on…

Eliza Gearty’s play is a timely one (similar in theme to Katherine Soper’s Wish List), highlighting how unfair and how unfit for purpose the gig economy really is. But, as Shaun’s co-worker Hannah (Isabele de Rosa) discovers, unionising isn’t easy.

Unusually for an adult play, About Money features a child in one of the leading roles. Nine-year-old Lois Hagerty more than holds her own, delivering an impressively nuanced performance and imbuing Sophie with an impish charm. The rest of the cast also perform very well, creating memorable and appealing characters, but it’s Sophie we’re talking about as we leave, and it’s Sophie we’ll remember. This is no accident. Gearty’s script positions her as the focus, and Alex Kampfner’s direction highlights this, literally placing her centre stage. She’s the star around which the others orbit, that makes them strive to improve their corner of the world. For her.

On the downside, I’m unsure about the date scene, when Hannah comes to spend the evening with Shaun. This seems a little contrived, and somehow unbelievable. Likewise, the late-night search for a missing person feels rushed, and is told rather than shown.

Nonetheless, About Money is an engaging and thoughtful piece of theatre.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

The Tiger Lillies: One Penny Opera

16/08/22

Underbelly Bristo Square (Cow Barn), Edinburgh

Describing an act as ‘unique’ is often considered a cop-out, and yet I can’t think of a more appropriate word to describe The Tiger Lillies, three remarkable musicians currently strutting their inimitable stuff at The Cow Barn on Bristo Square. Originally formed way back in 1989, they’ve been through a number of personnel changes over the years, though the macabre compositions of singer-songwriter Martyn Jacques have remained a constant. They describe themselves as “Brechtian Punk Cabaret”, and who am I to argue with them?

The current lineup shambles onto the stage looking like characters from your worst nightmare, plastered in grotesque makeup and wearing eccentric outfits. They launch headlong into their opening song, a Germanic foot-tapper that recalls the music of pre-war Berlin, jaunty and uncompromising, while Jacques’ lyrics spin an introduction to a tale of darkness and dismay, a world of crime and vicious retribution, featuring Mack the Knife and Polly Platt. Indeed, the entire hour is devoted to the continuing adventures of these miscreants and their various accomplices, so this is as much a storytelling session as it is a concert.

These days, Jacques handles accordion and keyboards, anchored by the drumming of Budi Butenop and embellished by Adrian Stout’s mercurial musical flourishes. Watching Stout conjure ethereal sounds from the theremin, the electric bass and, at several points, from a battered old saw is like watching a gifted magician at work. If you thought a saw was only good for cutting down trees, think again! Occasionally, Jacques switches to keyboards and offers us beautiful ballads that juxtapose poignant melodies with tales of murder and bestiality. His voice, a weird, soaring soprano, is quite extraordinary too.

I could say that this won’t be for everyone, but judging by the large, spellbound crowd that’s in tonight, The Tiger Lillies’ dark cabaret clearly has an ardent following – and if you need any more convincing, the band won an Olivier Award back in the day for their cult musical Shock Headed Peter.

Those looking for a unique – yes, that word again! – blend of music and theatre should head down to the Cow Barn without delay for a truly unforgettable experience.

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney

The Macbeth Inquiry

16/08/22

The Space at Niddry Street, Edinburgh

We’ve seen a few of Edinburgh University Shakespeare Company’s productions over the years, and we’ve always been impressed. We’re interested to see what happens when they get “Shakesperimental” with this contemporary reimagining of Macbeth as a politician, only metaphorically stabbing PM Duncan in the back.

It’s a nice idea, and the blending of Shakespeare’s script with the current vernacular is – for the most part – convincingly done by the three writers (Izzy Salt, Clara Wessely and Freddie Stone). Ted Ackery’s Paxman-like news reporter is an interesting addition. Ackery is a strong actor (he excelled as Joe in Miller’s All My Sons, which we saw earlier this year), and this shows in the blistering exchanges he has with the various ministers who dare to be interviewed by him. I’m less convinced, however, by the comic exchanges between him and weather reporter, Claudius (Rorke Wilson), which derail rather than enhance the production. Wilson performs well, but these moments seem to come from another play, and I feel like I’m watching a series of in-jokes that probably seemed hilarious in rehearsal, but don’t really fly on stage. I don’t get it. Is Claudius supposed to be funny just because he’s camp? It seems somewhat regressive, if so.

Maddy Brown’s trouser-suited, city-slicker version of Lady Macbeth is perhaps the standout performance here, her vaunting ambition dismayingly credible – but the characterisations are all good. Archie Turnbull (as Macbeth) delivers some key speeches with real gravitas, commanding the audience in a way that makes us believe the people might just vote for him.

I’m not mad about the frequent blackouts, used to mark the ending of each scene. It doesn’t help that today’s audience decides to applaud whenever the lights go down, as if every section were a mini-play. It’s a bizarre response, and not one I’ve seen before in all the hundreds of times I’ve been to the theatre. The blackouts make the action seem a little stilted, and I think the flow would be much improved by more imaginative transitions.

All in all, while there’s much to admire here, The Macbeth Inquiry just doesn’t quite work for me. Still, I applaud EUSC for giving this a go. At least they haven’t lost “the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt”.

2.7 stars

Susan Singfield