Author: Bouquets & Brickbats

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

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