Month: August 2022

Vermin

16/08/22

Gilded Balloon, Teviot (Balcony) Edinburgh

I can’t pretend that Vermin is a pleasant theatrical experience. On the contrary, this two-hander from Triptych Theatre, directed by Michael Parker, makes for harrowing viewing. But the piece is superbly acted and this twisted tale of a young couple working through the aftermath of grief is undeniably affecting.

Rachel (Sally Paffett) and Billy (Benny Ainsworth, who also wrote the play) are here to tell us their story from their first meeting on a train, which is delayed while a random stranger on the platform commits suicide, through their whirlwind romance and marriage, to their move to the ‘perfect’ flat, which, as it turns out, is infested with rats. A word of warning here – those with a phobia for rodents may not want to watch this play. No actual rats are shown, you understand, but they are talked about in some detail.

Billy has clearly had psychopathic tendencies from an early age, telling us in a disconcertingly affable – even proud – manner about the cruel escapades of his youth. But Rachel is in love and has a child on the way, so she’s prepared to put such minor issues aside.

Later, however, she proves not quite so ready to forgive Billy’s transgressions…

Vermin heads steadily deeper and deeper into disturbing territory, but it’s the naturalistic performances that make this piece fly, with both characters breaking off to bicker, or to dispute the other’s memory of a certain incident – and the play’s climax brings everything sharply into focus.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Nope

15/08/22

Cineworld, Edinburgh

From it’s earliest beginnings, Jordan Peele’s Nope has been cloaked in the kind of secrecy, normally reserved for Christopher Nolan movies – and inconveniently, it’s arrived slap bang in the middle of the Edinburgh Festival, a month I usually devote entirely to comedy and theatre. Nevertheless, I make time to see it. Now having done that, I’m not entirely sure I’m any better off.

Nope is the story of the Hayward siblings, OJ (Daniel Kaluuya) and Emerald (Keke Palmer), who, after the mysterious death of their father – struck by something unidentified from the heavens – are struggling to keep their business going. They supply horses to the film and television industry but OJ isn’t the best at getting on with people, while Emerald is his polar opposite, too interested in promoting her own projects. (We also learn that Haywards are direct descendants of the unnamed black jockey from the iconic silent film by Eadweard Muybridge.)

With revenue falling, OJ decides to sell some of his stock to Ricky ‘Jupe’ Park (Steven Yeun), who runs a ramshackle Western show, based not far from the Haywards’ ranch. Ricky is a former child actor, whose career was infamously ended when the simian star of his TV series ran amok and attacked his human co-stars. Scenes from the carnage in the studio prefigure the main action, but this feels like an entirely different idea grafted uncomfortably onto the main storyline.

OJ begins to suspect that something is hiding in the clouds above the ranch, something that’s responsible for his father’s death and which might be of extra-terrestrial origin. He and Emerald decide they need to photograph it, telling themselves that the resulting pictures will be their ‘Oprah’ moment, the answer to all their money worries. With this in mind they enlist local tech worker, Angel (Brandon Perea), to help them achieve their goal and they set about capturing the mystery on film.

But what’s up there might not be what they think it is…

Many films are short of ideas, but Nope has the opposite problem. Not content to make a straightforward UFO film, Peele throws in a whole mess of different images and subtexts. Some of them are great, others mystifying, but what’s for sure is that they don’t coalesce enough to make a satisfying whole. While there are certainly spectacular moments here – especially when the IMAX photography concentrates on the heavens and the action taking place up there, I leave feeling annoyed that Nope is neither fish nor foul. It could have been a superior sci-fi epic or it could have been a sinister horror tale. It can’t successfully be both those things.

Which ultimately means that Peele started at the top of his game with Get Out, slipped up somewhat with his second release, the ambitious but flawed Us, and now needs to consider very carefully where he goes next.

3 stars

Philip Caveney

Christopher Bliss: Captain Words Eye

15/08/22

Pleasance Courtyard (Beneath), Edinburgh

Christopher Bliss is just too good to be true. He swaggers into the room to the strains of Living La Vida Loca, slapping the upraised hands of the front row as he sweeps by. He’s dressed in truly horrible style – including the fashion ‘NO!’ of orthopaedic sandals with white socks – and, without further ado, proceeds to deliver his ‘masterclass in novel writing’ with not an ounce of self-awareness. Writing a novel is easy he assures us; he’s written hundreds! He never spends more than five minutes on each of them and he never ever rewrites a single word!

As a (ahem!) novelist, I can only sit there and reflect on the sorry fact that I’ve been doing it wrong for so many years.

Bliss, of course, is a construct (think David Brent or Alan Partridge). He’s the creation of comedian, Rob Carter, but we won’t hold that against him, especially when he’s mastered every written art save for one – the thing that’s always eluded him is character comedy. Meta? I guess so! He proceeds to commandeer the room and quickly has the audience eating out of his hand. Perhaps what we’re witnessing here is actually a master class in audience manipulation. He’s clearly in his element as he interacts with the crowd and soon has us shouting out suggestions, making noises of both attraction and repulsion, even bellowing his ‘catchphrase’ (“Ruddy hell!”) at regular intervals. It seems that he’s on the lookout for an apprentice and one of us might just be that lucky person.

Bliss is a new name to me and I can only regret that it’s taken me this long to encounter him. He’s that rarest of things, a brilliant character comedian… and a literary genius to boot. I can’t wait for his words of advice on poetry, which I have long considered my Achilles heel.

Those seeking his words of wisdom should hurry on down to the Pleasance Courtyard without further delay – it can only be a matter of time before the literary festival claims him as one of their own.

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney

Les Dawson: Flying High

15/08/22

Assembly George Square (Gordon Aikman Theatre), Edinburgh

For many in the auditorium, this show is a trip down memory lane. For me, it’s more of an introduction. It’s not that I’m too young to remember Les Dawson – he was on TV when I was a child – but we never watched his show at home, although I saw bits of it at my grandparents’ house, or with my friends. As I walk along the Meadows, on my way to George Square, I try to recall what I know of him. There isn’t much: I’m stuck at gurning, gruff voice, fake bosoms and “my mother-in-law”.

No matter. Let’s see what light the inimitable (ha!) Jon Culshaw can shed on a man who was, for decades, a staple of popular entertainment.

This 480-seater theatre is packed. There’s clearly a lot of lingering affection for Dawson – and a lot of faith in Culshaw to deliver. The set looks promising: it’s lavish by Fringe standards, dominated by a large screen, designed to look like a 1980s TV. There’s also a piano (or, at least, the back of one; I can’t see from where I’m sitting if it’s real), and an aeroplane seat, from where much of the material is recounted.

The premise is simple: Dawson is on Concorde, flying to Manhattan to perform at a private party for a rich ex-pat from Leeds. He has agreed to write an autobiography and, until it’s done, Dawson can’t focus on the novel he really wants to write. So he decides to put his time in the air to good use, recounting the story of his life, from the terraced streets of Collyhurst to the Royal Variety Performance.

Culshaw’s affection for Dawson is evident in his performance, which focuses on the comic’s warmth and charm, as well as his natural humour. I hadn’t realised that Dawson harboured literary ambitions, but it makes sense: the jokes, I see now, are often lyrical flights of fancy, undercut by a crude punchline. He uses language in a way that shows he loves it, playing with words, creating startlingly beautiful images. It’s fascinating to see this burgeoning in his youth, as Culshaw shows us a young wannabe poet pushed into boxing by a well-meaning uncle who doesn’t understand. Who knew that Dawson was the Billy Elliot of his day?

I like Tim Whitnall’s script, with its fourth-wall breaking acknowledgement of theatricality, as Culshaw speaks from the screen in a range of guises: as John Humphreys, for example, or as Dawson’s cartoon ‘gossipy-women’ creations, Ada and Cissie. “You’re a narrative device,” Dawson tells Humphreys, “helping to set the time and place.”

This is more than just a good impression, although it’s certainly that too. Although this piece is basically a monologue, director Bob Golding ensures it never feels static, and the audience is audibly appreciative. I leave feeling fonder of Dawson than I ever expected to.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Hungry

14/08/22

Roundabout at Summerhall, Edinburgh

As we take our seats at Roundabout, the heavens are threatening a deluge and the sound of thunder rumbles and reverberates overhead. It provides a suitably dramatic backing track for Hungry by Chris Bush, making its world premiere at Summerhall. This sharply written two-hander examines the relationship between Lori (Eleanor Sutton), a chef from a relatively privileged background, and Bex (Melissa Lowe), a waitress from the local estate. Their first meeting is fractious to say the least but, by the second, Lori is already trying hard to put the new worker at ease and endearingly failing to understand her sly sense of humour.

But it isn’t long before sparks begin to fly – and the two of them become lovers.

The ensuing relationship is told non-chronologically and veers between awkward early encounters to full-on adversarial squabbles, the two actors literally slamming metal food trollies at each other as the conflict builds. It’s perhaps only natural for Lori to want to offer her partner an upgrade in life, to try to encourage her to appreciate the difference between a mousse – sorry, a mousseline – and a ganache, even positing the idea of them running their own ‘soul food’ restaurant, together, but she doesn’t fully understand the implications of what she’s doing, nor the way her interventions make Bex feel.

When Bex’s mother dies Lori tries to muscle in on the catering arrangements and matters inevitably come to a head.

This is a cleverly observed exploration of both class and race, brilliantly written and superbly acted by Sutton and Lowe, who make their characters entirely believable. Director Katie Posner keeps everything stripped back and simple – there’s no need for the distractions of actors miming the acts of ‘eating’ or ‘drinking,’ they are free to circle each other, interacting, exchanging pithy remarks and occasionally kicking off. It’s only in the play’s final scenes that any actual food appears and, when it does, this sudden move into hyper-realism – and the fact that we can actually smell it cooking – amplifies its seductive nature.

Hungry is a class act, so assured that, even amidst the host of treasures on offer at this year’s Roundabout, it dazzles like a precious gem. The standing ovation from the crowd is heartfelt and utterly well-deserved. If you’ve a taste for challenging drama, this is a show you mustn’t miss.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Crossing the Void

14/08/22

The Space on the Mile, Edinburgh

Koi Collective’s debut theatre show is a tight comic thriller, written by Sally MacAlister and directed by Grace Baker. Hannah (Eilidh Barn) is dead, and her friends and sister, Josie (Zoe Isobel Kinniburgh), have gathered to talk, to remember – and to conduct a séance. As you do. Abby (Georgia-Lee Roberts), now living in London, has managed to procure the keys for their old student flat in Edinburgh, and Finn (Amelia Fleur Yayici) has ordered a ouija board kit from Amazon. What could possibly go wrong?

Over the course of the evening, as the girls drink mimosas, snack on Monster Munch and attempt to communicate with Hannah, tensions emerge and intensify. What secret is Charlie (Evie Mortimer) hiding? Why has Lorna (Zara Louise Kennedy) always felt excluded from the group? And whose is the mysterious phone that keeps on ringing but can’t be found?

This is an impressive production, played with absolute commitment and precision by all five actors; there isn’t a weak link. The characters are wonderfully distinct, their interactions compelling and believable – and Yayici, as the boisterous, insensitive Finn, is darkly funny too.

I like the use of video clips to reveal the past: filmed footage of the group at parties or shivering on the beach, reading tarot cards and being daft. This helps to cement the sense of a shared history, letting us see how Hannah’s death has fractured their lives, as well as offering some clues as to what might have happened to trigger her demise.

Crossing the Void is a dynamic piece of theatre, and the team spirit behind the production feels almost palpable. There’s clearly a sense of shared ownership between the writer, director and actors – and this successful collaboration has paid dividends.

Kinniburgh is being replaced from today by Robyn Reilly (because of other commitments). Reilly is joining something very good indeed.

4.3 stars

Susan Singfield

Jenny Bede: The First Pregnant Woman in the World

13/08/22

Underbelly Bristo Square (Clover), Edinburgh

We first encountered Jenny Bede way back in 2013 at the Fringe, when she appeared alongside Jessie Cave in Ain’t Too Proud to Beg. We enjoyed that show a lot, but haven’t managed to see her since. Until now. And, while a lot has changed (she’s the first woman in the whole world to have ever been pregnant, you know), she’s still the same sweet-faced, potty-mouthed, musical comic we remember.

The theme here is – unsurprisingly, given the title – motherhood, but – as should also be evident – Bede is very, very self-aware. She’s brutally honest about the toll pregnancy and parenting take (the struggle to work while breast-feeding; the hormonal rage of the second trimester; the absolute carnage of giving birth), but also conscious of the self-absorption and entitlement ‘a white woman with a buggy’ sometimes displays.

Bede is an engaging performer. Her style is chatty and intimate, and she doesn’t seem to have a filter – some of her tales are very personal (and all the better for it). The show’s high points are the musical numbers, all original pieces, with bitingly witty lyrics. The standout is the song about things that make her angry, that soon descends into a rant, interrupted periodically by cheers and applause from the audience as she highlights issues that have affected us all (not least the fact that Boris Johnson was enjoying a party at the exact same time she was giving birth without her partner present, because WE WEREN’T ALLOWED TO MIX!).

There’s a weird heckle early on that unsettles her briefly, but Bede is an experienced comedian, and she soon settles back into her stride. This is a funny and appealing show, with some serious points playing peek-a-boo behind the jokes.

3.5 stars

Susan Singfield

A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings

13/08/22

Summerhall (Main Hall), Edinburgh

Based on a short story by Gabriel García Márquez and adapted for the stage by Dan Colley, Manus Halligan and Genevieve Hulme Beaman, this is the tale of Elisenda and Palayo, two impoverished people who live in a rickety shack on the edge of a small town. After three days of relentless rain, they are out killing crabs, which they believe are making their baby sick. And then they make an unusual find in their muddy courtyard. It’s… well, the clue’s in the title.

The ensuing events are related mostly by Elisenda (Karen McCartney) in a deliciously sinister style. She’s aided by Palayo (Manus Halligan), who barely utters a word, but moves humbly around the stage, using a curious mixture of handicrafts and high-tech devices to illustrate the story – a series of simplistic figurines, illuminated by tiny cameras and lights, take us into their miniature world.

The simplest techniques are often the most effective: a sweater pulled off and tucked into an elbow becomes a baby; a pair of black gloves and a frame transforms McCartney into a spider-woman. Handfuls of feathers are periodically blown around the stage by a strategically placed fan. While all this might sound underwhelming on paper, the result is genuinely enchanting and the magical atmosphere is heightened by haunting soundscapes, whispers, susurrations and chants, created on loop recordings by the performers as the action progresses.

Marquez’s subtext is that humanity rarely cherishes that which it does not understand. Elisenda and Pelayo treat the angel – for this is what we assume him to be – with cruelty, locking him up, earning money by allowing the people of the local town to pay to look at him, even branding him with a hot iron to make him their property. Somehow we feel genuine pity for a tiny figure made of wire and string.

It’s hard to encapsulate what makes this such a powerful and moving experience, but that’s exactly what it is – a spellbinding slice of storytelling, so brilliantly conceived and engineered that it makes the incredible seem real. You’ll believe a man can fly.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

The Girl Who Was Very Good at Lying

13/08/22

Summerhall (Tech Cube 0), Edinburgh

Twenty-one year old Catriona (Rachael Rooney) doesn’t have much to occupy her. She lives with her mum in the house she grew up in, and spends each day trudging through the same grinding routine. She gets up; she showers; she eats breakfast; she goes to work in the local pub. Every evening, she comes home and sits down to dinner with her mum, answering the same list of questions, all while staring at a ‘live, laugh, love’ sign that seems designed to mock her. The only thing that ever changes is the breakfast, which ranges from porridge all the way to Coco Pops.

So perhaps it’s not surprising that, when an American tourist comes into the pub one day, she starts to fantasise. He’s the most exotic and exciting person who’s ever crossed the threshold. After all, there are only two hundred people living in her village; she knows them all.

And they know her. Her history.

With the American, Catriona is free to reinvent herself: to be his knowledgable tour-guide, his link to Northern Ireland’s past. After all, she’s very, very good at lying. Even to herself…

Rooney brings Eoin McAndrew’s compelling script to life with an intensity that is hard to describe. The room crackles with tension: this performance is a real tour de force. Fay Lomas’s electric direction – all jarring sound effects and choreographed scene changes that feel somehow like ruptures – ensures we’re every bit as stressed as Catriona; as she spirals out of control, we’re with her, every spin. It’s a powerful evocation of a mental health crisis – and an entertaining, mesmerising piece of theatre.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

Lucy Porter: Wake-Up Call

12/08/22

Pleasance Courtyard (Forth), Edinburgh

Lucy Porter is as vivacious and likeable as ever – her bright-eyed enthusiasm is hard to resist. Perhaps she relies on this a little bit too much in this loosely-structured show, however, which seems to skirt around a point it never quite makes. 

The premise is ostensibly about a mid-life ‘crisis’, resolved by the wake-up call of the title. It’s relatable (most of the audience – including me – are in the same age bracket as Porter) but there isn’t really anything calamitous or, well, crisis-like here, just a vague sense of anxiety about getting old.

There are lots of laughs though. It’s a pleasant, meandering monologue, and Porter’s warmth and charm shine through. But I’m left wanting something more. That bed, for instance. It’s an enormous prop. It must be a pain in the arse to store and set up. But it’s a perfect example of Chekhov’s gun principle – if it’s not going to be used, what’s it doing there? (Okay, so it is used, in fact, but only for a nano-second, and not to any great effect.) 

An agreeable way to spend an hour, this one’s probably the perfect tonic if you’re in the mood for an undemanding treat. 

3 stars 

Susan Singfield