Author: Bouquets & Brickbats

The Play of Light upon the Earth: A Reading

05/09/19

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

The Play of Light upon the Earth by Sally Hobson is an unusual piece of writing: a play structured into twenty-seven chapters, representing the psychological fragmentation that follows trauma. For the protagonist, Innocence (Jessica Hardwick), Bloody Friday is the trigger. The shock of this childhood experience, long-repressed, explodes into her adult life, forcing her to confront its impact.

It feels like a genuine privilege to be here at this stage of the creative process: the play is still being developed, still seeking its perfect form. In this rehearsed reading, directed by Muriel Romanes, we get a sense of what it could become. Because there is little movement (the actors are seated behind a trestle table), the focus is inevitably on the language, which is dense and lyrical, packed with literary references, Joycean in its verbal inventiveness.

Maureen Beattie’s reading (as narrator and Mother) is particularly engaging, delivered with intensity and vigour. Benny Young (narrator and Father) is good too: very funny, despite the gravity of what’s being said. There is, in fact, a lot of humour in this play: the light that shows the shade for what it really is.

This is a thought-provoking, intellectually-demanding piece, and I’m fascinated to see how it turns out. Post-show discussion about staging throws up various options, from a grand, large-scale production with a cast of hundreds, to a more minimalist notion, with a few key characters inhabiting a huge stage. I’m struck by the idea of a multi-media approach, which I think might suit this spoken-word/performance-art/play hybrid.

Whatever. I’ll certainly be keeping an eye out to see where this goes.

Susan Singfield

Apocalypse Now: The Final Cut

04/09/19

Some film directors have an unfortunate habit of revisiting their earlier successes and producing new versions of them. But is it always the wisest move?

Apocalypse Now is a good case in point. It’s rightfully acclaimed as one of the greatest war (and anti-war) movies ever made, but Francis Ford Coppola will keep returning to the well and tinkering with his masterpiece. Now here we are on the 40th anniversary of its release and he’s gone and done it again, assembling a version that weighs in at a hefty three hours and two minutes.

I first saw the original in 1979, when it was a mere at two hours and twenty-seven minutes. It had been a weird kind of day. Cycling through Manchester, I was kicked off my bike by a football supporter through the open window of a passing car. Understandably shaken, I found a young policeman, helpfully hiding in a shop doorway, who told me that a visiting football team was running riot in the city centre. He advised me to ‘lie low’ for a while.

A bit further along Deansgate, the ABC Cinema was showing Apocalypse Now, and a war movie felt somehow appropriate. So in I duly trooped and was promptly blown away by what I saw. Coppola’s transposition of Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness to the jungles of war-torn Vietnam felt masterful. Indeed, I watched it again only a few weeks later at the infamous Aaben cinema, where it was given added mystique by the fact that pretty much everybody at the screening was smoking dope. Er… far out.

But then in 2001 along came Redux and, with it, an extra forty-nine minutes of footage that had been excised from the theatrical release, including the French Plantation Sequence – three words that still strike horror into my heart. This seemingly interminable section where Captain Willard (Martin Sheen) eats a meal and is given a long lecture on Vietnam’s troubled history by the plantation owner has the unfortunate effect of stopping the film dead in its tracks. Was I the only movie fan who, on seeing the words ‘The Final Cut,’ fervently hoped that Coppola had actually shortened the running time by taking a large pair of scissors to this bit?

No such luck. There’s even more of it now. And it fatally wounds the film.

The problem is, it’s followed by the (already glacially slow) final set piece and any goodwill that the previous two thirds has earned itself evaporates all too quickly, as we watch Marlon Brando sitting in the darkness and mumbling incoherently. Also, it must be said, that the ending – based on Conrad’s colonial-era novel with its white saviour storyline – looks a little dodgy when examined in the cold light of the present day.

A pity then, because – as ever – the film looks absolutely gorgeous, especially on the huge Imax screen. Many of the scenes have passed into movie legend, together with quotes from John Milius’s script (‘I love the smell of napalm in the morning’ – ‘Charlie don’t surf!’ – ‘Terminate with extreme prejudice,’ to name but three). The helicopter battle scenes are unparalleled and the film expertly portrays the complete insanity of war, depicting Willard’s upriver journey as a dark descent into his own battle-damaged psyche. Oh, and there’s also fun to be had watching out for early performances by Harrison Ford and Laurence Fishburne in supporting roles.

The original Apocalypse Now is undoubtedly a brilliant and unforgettable piece of cinema. This version (and it almost hurts me to say it) squanders its own strengths by giving its director free reign to put back things that were, for very sound reasons, removed in the first place. Those with weak bladders take note: time your toilet break to coincide with Willard’s arrival at the French plantation.

And take your time. Trust me, you won’t miss anything.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

The Mustang

Matthias Schoenaerts appears in The Mustang by Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre, an official selection of the Premieres program at the 2019 Sundance Film Festival. Courtesy of Sundance Institute. All photos are copyrighted and may be used by press only for the purpose of news or editorial coverage of Sundance Institute programs. Photos must be accompanied by a credit to the photographer and/or ‘Courtesy of Sundance Institute.’ Unauthorized use, alteration, reproduction or sale of logos and/or photos is strictly prohibited.

02/09/19

The Mustang premiered at Sundance in January and was immediately picked up for wider distribution. It’s easy to see why. This is a moving account of a long-term convict, jailed for an unspeakably violent crime, who finds redemption through his attempts to tame a wild horse. It is a powerful, smouldering tale, with a strong central message – that those who break the law need to be given every opportunity to attone for their crimes.

Matthias Schoenaerts stars as the improbably named Roman Coleman, currently serving his twelfth year for a savage assault on his former wife, and adamant that he does not want to be reintegrated into the outside world. Whilst working on a maintenance programme, he meets up with Myles (Bruce Dern), a cantankerous old rancher who runs a rehibilitation programme, encouraging convicts to work alongside wild mustangs in an attempt to raise funds and save at least some of them from being culled.

At first Roman struggles to make headway with the stallion he has named Marquis, but -as he slowly begins to progress – so he is able to take stock of his life and think about repairing the divide between himself and his pregnant daughter, Martha (Gideon Adlon).

Schoenaerts delivers a compelling performance in the lead role, a man who has turned himself into a simmering pressure cooker of anger and self-disgust. Writer-director Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre is sure-footed enough to guide this story through the potential pitfalls. Yes, the symbolism is pretty obvious: both man and horse are creatures that are possessed by their own inner rage; both need to be ‘broken’ if they are to exist in the world. And yet The Mustang has none of the obvious ‘feelgood’ tropes that such stories often depend upon – indeed, I find myself pleasantly surprised by its steadfast refusal to entertain easy answers. Add to this Ruben Imens’ magnificent location photography and Jed Kurzel’s atmospheric score, and you have a film that lingers in the memory long after the credits have rolled.

The fact that the story is based on a genuine prison rehabilitation programme only serves to strengthen its appeal.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

Tasty Buns

Bread Street, Edinburgh

It turns out Scotland’s Bakery of the Year is less than 200m from our flat. How can we have overlooked it in the three years we’ve been here? I love cake (and Philip tolerates it happily); what wonders have escaped our gluttony?

We’ve walked past Tasty Buns countless times, but the unprepossessing exterior offers little clue as to what’s within. True, there’s often an intriguing sandwich board outside advertising the day’s offerings, but as we can’t actually see them, we’ve ignored what’s before our eyes.

We’ve not, however, found the recent press coverage so easy to ignore: since winning The Food Awards Scotland 2019’s coveted prize, this little bakery has been firmly in our sights. Their speciality, we learn online, is ‘boozy bakes’ – and this dismays us a little, as – although we’re definitely fans of booze – we don’t tend to like it in our puds. Still, it seems silly not to take a look at a the temptation on our doorstep, so we decide to head on in and take a look.

Tasty Buns is much bigger than it looks from the outside, the narrow interior stretching back, with space for twenty-something cake-lovers. It’s attractive, all whitewashed brick and fancy mirrors – and the display cabinet at the front reveals the wonders we have missed. There are about eight bakes on offer – not all boozy – and all of them look quite divine. We order coffee (an Americano and a latte, single shot by request and very good indeed), and two cakes to share.

The Tunnock’s caramel wafer brownie is the best brownie I’ve ever had – and I’ve had many. It’s rich and moist and decadent: a paragon; exquisite. A generous slice of spiced apple and salted caramel cake offers a light sponge with a robust flavour, the richness of the butter cream complemented by the tart apple filling. It’s exactly what cake ought to be: at once fresh and indulgent, a genuine treat.

The service is brisk and friendly; the atmosphere relaxed. It might have taken us a while to find, but we’ll be back again before too long.

If you’re after cake and a cuppa, I really can’t think of anywhere better you could go than Louise Campbell’s marvellous bakery. It’s easy to see how Tasty Buns has earned its accolades.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

Pain and Glory

01/09/19

Pedro Almadóvar’s twenty-first movie is his most openly autobiographical work to date. It’s the story of aging film director, Salvador Mallo (played by Almadóvar’s old muse, Antonio Banderas), who, after years of suffering from various crippling ailments, has lost his way and feels unable to continue with his stellar career.

When his 80s hit movie, Sabor, gets a re-release, he’s asked to attend a screening in Madrid alongside the film’s star, Alberto Crespo (Asier Etxeandia). Salvador hasn’t spoken to his former friend for thirty years, since a spectacular bust-up at the film’s première. But Salvador gamely visits Alberto, who is now in the throes of heroin addiction, and the two men soon end up ‘chasing the dragon’ together. This is the trigger that unleashes a series of childhood memories for Salvador: of his much put-upon mother, Jacinta (played both by Penelope Cruz and Julietta Serrano); of his eccentric schooling at a seminary in Madrid; and of his first sexual awakening, kindled by the presence of a young workman who visits the family home.

Pain and Glory is a gentle and charming film that takes on the tragedy of aging and the illusory nature of creativity with wisdom and panache. While the tone seems to veer alarmingly from scene to scene, and at one point even prompts questions about the wisdom of Almadóvar’s casting decisions, everything is brilliantly resolved in a final shot, where I suddenly realise that the story I am watching is not exactly what I think it is…

It’s the final piece in a complex cinematic puzzle composed by a genuine auteur.

This may not match the bravura delights of Women On the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown or Volver, but it’s nonetheless an assured work from one of contemporary cinema’s most accomplished directors.

4.2 Stars

Philip Caveney

Crawl

Kaya Scodelario and Barry Pepper star in CRAWL from Paramount Pictures. Photo Credit: Courtesy Paramount Pictures.

29/08/19

There’s something refreshingly straightforward and unapologetic about Crawl. This isn’t a film that comes loaded with subtext or, indeed, any kind of ‘message.’ It is essentially a creature-feature, the story of two people desparately trying to avoid being eaten by alligators. Director Alexandre Aja keeps the narrative to a lean, mean one-hour-twenty-seven minutes, during which time he racks up the suspense to almost unbearable levels. You want jump scares? There are plenty of them here, timed with enough precision to make you jolt in your seat. You want creepy oppressive atmosphere? That’s here too, in abundance.

Hayley Keller (Kaya Scoledario) is a competive swimmer, who, since her parents’ divorce, has become somewhat estranged from her father (and former trainer), Dave (Barry Pepper). However, when a hurricane wreaks havoc on the stretch of Florida coastline where he lives and he repeatedly fails to answer his phone, Hayley is concerned enough to drive over to the family homestead to check on him.

Big mistake. Dave, it turns out, is trapped in the cellar, having been chomped on by a big ‘gator. To add to his woes, the water levels are rapidly rising, giving more ‘gators easy access to the house. Once down in the cellar with her stricken father, Hayley realises that, if they don’t get out of there fast, they’ll both be goners. But escaping turns out to be a whole lot more complicated than she could ever have imagined.

Having quickly set up the scenario, screenwriters Michael and Shawn Rasmussen proceed to put Hayley and Dave (and by default, the audience) through the wringer. Okay, so maybe there’s one attack too many here and some of the hair-raising escapes will prompt the occasional raised eyebrow – particularly when the few other featured characters are made such short work of – but this is largely successful, and the result is sufficiently entertaining to hold my attention to the final frame. A word of warning though. If injury details make you nauseous, this might not be the film for you.

Oh, and one other thing. Any ambitions I might have had to pay a visit to Florida have now been put on hold. Just saying.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Hail Satan?

Protest sign against The Satanic Temple in Little Rock, AR from HAIL SATAN?, a Magnolia Pictures release. Photo courtesy of Magnolia Pictures.

28/08/19

Members of The Satanic Temple (TST) call themselves Satanists, but they don’t worship the devil. Instead, they deploy his iconography to rile America’s right-wing Christians, and to protest the creeping coalescence of church and state. Led by Harvard graduate Lucien Greaves, they believe in goodwill, benevolence, open-mindedness and free expression. They support LGBT+ rights, and embark on charitable missions: litter-picking, giving dry socks to homeless people, donating tampons and sanitary towels to women’s shelters.

Penny Lane’s documentary is a wry, amusing exposé of this underground religion/political movement, and its impact on the easily outraged. TST’s creed is strictly non-violent, which repeatedly wrong-foots their targets, whose expectations are based on hysterical horror-movie imagery. Angry politicians don’t know quite how to denounce these gentle, mild-mannered ‘Satanists’ with their reasonable demands and humanitarian goals. It’s hilarious to watch.

There are some serious points being made. One TST adherent recalls being rebuked by his Catholic church for playing Dungeons and Dragons and listening to heavy metal. But, as he points out, while he was just a kid listening to music and playing games, real evil was being carried out by priests, and covered up by those in charge. The fingers were pointing in the wrong direction.

It’s a fascinating watch, told with engaging lightness and a sense of frivolity, but actually showing how provocation can be an effective form of activism. Fundamentalist Christianity can’t be allowed to dictate laws, and TST are determined to prevent them from doing so.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Edfest Bouquets 2019

Bouquets&Brickbats

It’s that time again when we award (virtual) bouquets to the best shows we saw at this year’s EdFringe. From a plethora of performances over three weeks, here are our highlights. Congratulations to all concerned.

Theatre

Endless Second – Theo Toksvig-Stewart/Madeleine Gray/Camilla Gurtler/ Cut the Cord

Who Cares? – Jessica Temple/Lizzie Mounter/Luke Grant/ Matt Woodhead/ LUNG & The Lowry

Shine – Olivier Leclair/Tiia-Mari Mäkinen/Hippana Theatre & From Start to Finnish

Ripped – Alex Gwyther/Max Lindsay/Robin Rayner Productions

On The Other Hand, We’re Happy – Toyin Omari-Kinch/Charlotte Bate/Charlotte O’Leary/Daf James/Stef O’Driscoll/Paines Plough & Theatr Clwyd

Comedy

Jo Caulfield: Voodoo Doll – The Stand Comedy Club

Daliso Chaponda: Blah Blah Blacklist – CKP and InterTalent Group

Showstopper! the Improvised Musical – The Showstoppers/Something for the Weekend

Fishbowl – SIT Productions with Le Fils Du Grand Réseau

Beep Boop – Richard Saudek/Crowded Outlet

Special Mentions

Chris Dugdale – Down To One – Chris Dugdale Int Ents

Sexy Lamp – Katie Arnstein/Victoria Gagliano

Philip Caveney & Susan Singfield

How To Use a Washing Machine

26/08/19

Zoo Southside, Edinburgh

And so here it is: our final show of Edfringe 2019. And for Bouquets and Brickbats, it’s Slam Theatre’s latest production. We really don’t know what to expect from this, but the presence of a string quartet on stage is promising. How To Use a Washing Machine is a new musical, and, as it turns out, a fairly unusual one.

It’s the story of James (Max Cadman) and Cass (Amelye Moulton), two disaffected siblings called back to the home they grew up in because their parents are going through a marriage breakup. They are required to help put things in order, to sort through the detritus of their childhoods, so they can decide what to keep and what to dump. Max is a successful banker, who has sacrificed his youthful dreams of being a dancer to make a repectable living. Cass hasn’t quite given up on her artistic ambitions and is leading a rather less comfortable existence in a rundown flat in London. The two have respective axes to grind. They have fallen out in the past, but neither of them is quite prepared to take the blame for the rift.

There’s much about this production that I like: the urgent, strident rhythms of the music by Joe Davis, the acerbic lyrics by Georgie Botham, and the performances of the two young leads are also top notch. Narratively though, the story feels a little one-note. After a powerful opening section, which depicts the siblings’ travails as they travel to the parental home during adverse weather conditions, the middle stretch feels as though it needs to progress a little more than it actually does. It seems to take Max and Cassie an age to settle their differences.

Furthermore, though we’re told that the warring parents are somewhere else in the house, arguing with each other, there really isn’t much sense of their presence in this production. I want to have a better picture of them.

The piece regains its momentum in the final third, and goes out on a rousing note, with a reprise of the memorable opening song. How To Use a Washing Machine makes a unusual culmination to Edfringe 2019 and, ultimately, that’s what this festival is all about.

Anyhow, it’s been emotional – and now we need to get some sleep.

3.8 stars

Philip Caveney

Flo & Joan: Before the Screaming Starts

25/08/19

Assembly George Square Gardens (Piccolo), Edinburgh

Our penultimate Edinburgh show is chosen simply by virtue of its convenenient time slot, rather than for the act itself. The truth is, I know very little of Flo and Joan’s work, other than the quirky advertisements for the Nationwide that first brought them to wider attention. They are clearly having a very good Fringe. The Piccolo tent is completely sold out and, when comedy luminaries like Hannah Gadsby and Alan Davies are sitting in the audience, it’s evident they’re doing something right.

Flo and Joan (real names Nicola and Rosie Dempsy) are an eccentric sister-act who specialise in amusing songs about everyday experiences – waiting for a parcel delivery, for instance, is something we’re all much too familiar with, but they manage to take the song into unexpected, fantastical realms. They have a sharper edge too. The song addressed to anti-vaxxers doesn’t take any prisoners.

There’s something very endearing about this duo. I love the silent, accusatory stares they direct at a few hapless latecomers. ‘The show loses momentum when we talk,’ says Flo. It doesn’t, but I feel almost contractually obliged to say it does, after their references to what other critics have said about them. Actually, I enjoy their deadpan patter.

The theme of this (if there is one) is siblings who sing together. The Osmonds, The Bee Gees, Bros, etc. That title, of course, is a reference to the recent so-bad-it’s-good documentary about the Brothers Goss. But really, this is just a series of amusing ditties, skilfully played and nicely sung; when the sister’s harmonise, it’s clear that their voices were made for each other. If I were to make a comparison with any other comedian, it would be with the late great Victoria Wood. Flo and Joan seem to share her delicious sense of the ridiculous, her flair for amusing one liners.

At any rate, this is their last night in Edinburgh, so if you’re planning to catch them, it will have to be somewhere else. Wherever you encounter them, you’re likely to enjoy the experience.

4 stars

Philip Caveney