Author: Bouquets & Brickbats

Half-Empty Glasses

11/08/22

Roundabout at Summerhall, Edinburgh

Toye (Samuel Tracy) is sixteen years old and good at just about everything he turns his attention to. A piano exam for a prestigious private school is fast approaching, and his best friends, Ash (Sara Hazemi) and Remi (Princess Khumalo), have learned to accept that he has to devote long hours of his spare time to piano practice. But not everything in Toye’s life is perfect. His father is gradually declining, thanks to Parkinson’s disease, and Toye is grimly aware of a gulf opening up between them.

And then, after reading a whole pile of books about black history, Toye suddenly decides he wants to change the world – to become a black activist.

He enlists Ash and Remi to help him and holds an impromptu meeting at his school at lunchtime, talking about black cultural icons, but quickly realises that it’s not enough. He has to reach more people, make real changes! His increasing obsession alienates first Remi, who – as head girl – feels compromised by his planned events, and then Ash, who is of Middle Eastern descent and is aware her own issues are being side-lined. Toye struggles on alone but is in danger of putting his musical ambitions at risk…

Half-Empty Glasses by Dipo Baruwa-Etti is a fascinating and beautifully nuanced play that gradually exerts a powerful grip over the audience’s emotions, making its complex themes easy to navigate. The depiction of Toye’s father – either Hazemi or Khumala speaking quietly into a microphone – is a simple stroke of genius, effortlessly demonstrating the distance between father and son. And I love Toye’s reactions to the music he’s making, the way it orders his world, helps him to navigate his way through life. When things start to go wrong, the discords this generates are genuinely jarring.

Sensitively directed by Kaleya Baxe and with superb musical input by Roly Botha, this is an absolute delight from start to finish. Hats should also be raised to the young cast who, as well as starring in Half-Empty Glasses are also appearing daily in two other superb plays at Paines Plough, working their collective socks off. We’ve yet to see a disappointing production at Roundabout and this year their offerings are flying particularly high.

Don’t miss your chance to see what they have to offer.

4.7 stars

Philip Caveney

Fills Monkey: We Will Drum You

10/08/22

Pleasance Courtyard (Grand), Edinburgh

Back in the day, I was one of those guys who liked to get wasted and hang out with musicians. You know? A drummer. So the idea of Fills Monkey really appeals to me. Two guys hitting the skins for an hour? Sign me up! But is that enough to fill an entire slot on the Edinburgh Fringe?

The answer is a resounding ‘YES!’ Sebastian Rambaud and Yann Coste are two brilliant percussionists, the kind of people you imagine could go through an entire day without ever breaking beat. They begin with conventional sets of drums, hammering out thrilling polyrhythms as the audience claps along. But they have an air of competitiveness about them and the stakes keep rising. Did you know that drums can be played with a whole variety of implements. Pan scrubbers. Hammers. Food mixers. A chain saw?

It really helps that the two percussionists are also accomplished clowns. Working under the direction of Daniél Briere, they’ve devised a show that switches back and forth through a whole series of scenarios, never lingering too long in one place to ever feel repetitive. Once the conventional drums have been battered into submission, there are synth drums to play with, voice recorders and a whole package of technical wonders that allow the two men to play entire rock songs just by hitting things. And it’s amazing how many classic rock songs can be identified by their beat alone.

The audience at The Grand are lapping it up – particularly the youngsters. (Seriously, if you have energetic kids along with you this is the perfect show for them.) The frenzy steadily rises to a suitably spectacular crescendo.

A final thought. If you’re suffering from the effects of a hangover, this might not be the best show for you – but, if you like your entertainment loud, reckless and super bombastic, Fills Monkey should definitely be on your ‘to see’ list. They promise to drum and and they do it with aplomb.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Jo Caulfield: Here Comes Trouble

10/08/22

The Stand Comedy Club (Stand 1), Edinburgh

With over 3000 shows to choose from at the Fringe, we usually try to avoid seeing the same performers every year, but there are a few exceptions. Like moths to bright flames, we keep coming back to see the latest offerings from Richard Herring, Paines Plough, Flabbergast, Chris Dugdale – and, of course, Jo Caulfield.

Comedy is a broad church, and we have catholic tastes. For us, Caulfield falls into the ‘Mary’s Milk Bar ice cream’ category, i.e. an Edinburgh classic promising pure enjoyment. You know what you’re getting and it never disappoints.

She takes a few moments to check out her audience (who’s seen her before, where people have come from) and then cautions us at the top: “What I do is, I talk about myself and about who’s annoyed me since last year. That’s what this is. You won’t learn anything”. Well, good. I like life-lesson comedy, but I don’t want it all the time. Caulfield is an entertainer, and I’m ready to be entertained.

And we’re off. The laughs keep coming, thick and fast. She’s an expert; she knows exactly how to make her material fly: when to push the boundaries and when to rein things in. The topics are wide-ranging – from her mum’s favourite TV programmes to nationalising the railways; from irksome neighbours to European mini-breaks – and all skewered with her trademark caustic wit. Her onstage persona is blisteringly impatient. “Fuck off!” she roars on more than one occasion, irritated by the idiocy – and sometimes mere existence – of other people (and crafters in particular). But there’s always that twinkle, that sly charm, that means she gets away with it.

We were tired when we arrived. Now we’re energised. We leave smiling, and head off to the pub.

4.6 stars

Susan Singfield

A Sudden Violent Burst of Rain

10/08/22

Roundabout at Summerhall, Edinburgh

Sami Ibrahim’s play is a fable about immigration. We meet Elif (Sara Hazemi) as a teenager, newly washed up on the shores of a mythical island. She finds work with a rich landowner, herding and shearing sheep, spinning clouds from their wool. It’s a solitary life. But then she meets the landowner’s son (Samuel Tracy) and she’s smitten, and her story spirals out of control.

At first, this feels like a fairytale. The language is lyrical and there’s magic in the air. Elif is a sweet-natured dreamer, happy to accept her lot; a heroine in the Cinderella mould. Soon, though, reality intervenes. Elif has a baby, and the landowner’s son has gone.

Elif’s daughter, Lily (Princess Khumalo), is more down-to-earth, more practical than her mum. She recognises the stories for what they are and calls bullshit. She can’t escape them though: Elif isn’t ‘registered’, and if she’s not, then nor can Lily be. The clock is ticking down to Lily’s eighteenth birthday. Unless she’s registered by then, she has no right to stay.

This is an ingenious way to convey the absurdity of the UK’s immigration system. Couched in the apparel of a fairytale, it heightens our sense of right and wrong. We recognise the innocent persecuted heroine; we know that she’s supposed to win. We also know the villains and that they’re supposed to lose. But, despite Elif’s best efforts, that’s not what’s happening. The parallels are all too obvious. What sort of people are we, always letting the baddies win?

At the beginning, the three storytellers are all enthusiastic, clamouring to have their voices heard, each wanting to tell their version of the tale; by the end, even Elif can’t spin a yarn that’s strong enough to cast away the clouds. She desperately articulates her vision of Utopia, but harsh reality intrudes into her imagination, corrupting her dream.

This ensemble piece by Paines Plough is every bit as inventive and compelling as we’ve come to expect, and Yasmin Hafesji’s direction is both playful and assured. I especially love the use of props, with wooden sheep, a balloon and a Matryoshka all adding to the folk-tale tone. The muted colour palette – all greys and browns – evokes the misery of a rain-soaked isle, as does the muted lighting (by Rory Beaton).

Ibrahim has successfully created a kind of whimsical polemic. I’ve never seen anything quite like this before.

4.3 stars

Susan Singfield

Emily Wilson: Fixed

09/08/22

Pleasance Courtyard (Beneath), Edinburgh

Emily Wilson’s Fixed is part musical, part stand-up and part catharsis. Clearly a born performer, Wilson takes us on a tour of her youth, from beaming toddler to broken teen. It’s all been chronicled, of course: she’s 26 years old, a whole lifetime of phone recordings and insta-chats and YouTube videos. Oh, and primetime national TV too.

That’s the crux of the story: Wilson appeared on The X Factor USA in 2011, as one half of the earnestly named duo, Ausem. “Because my best friend’s called Austin, and my name’s Emily, so together we’re Ausem!” She thought her dreams had come true: she was 15 and destined to become a star. But then they hit a snag. The judges decided they liked Austin, but not Emily…

Wilson’s tale, co-written and directed by Sam Blumenfeld, is compelling. She’s a vivacious, funny, talented woman – and, while she’s disarmingly self-deprecating, she’s justifiably pissed off. The X Factor nearly destroyed her. How is a child supposed to process such public humiliation? How do the powerful adults in charge legitimise hurting her for viewing figures, for more dollars in their bulging bank accounts? Do the haters on social media sleep well at night, knowing they’ve made a young girl cry?

The past is detailed via a series of video clips and diary entries, interspersed with stand-up and original songs revealing Wilson’s current perspective. What emerges is a thoughtful commentary on fame, ambition and exploitation, and it’s riveting.

Oh, and she really can sing. Whatever Nicole Sherzinger says.

4.6 stars

Susan Singfield

Flesh

09/08/22

TheSpace@SurgeonsHall, Edinburgh

The names Burke and Hare are infamous in Edinburgh – and I’m not referring to the lap-dancing club that (chillingly) chooses to name itself after two of history’s most prolific serial killers. Their story is fascinating (indeed, I’ve featured the duo myself in my novel, Seventeen Coffins). The Fringe has always offered a platform to am-dram theatre groups and it’s gratifying to see this ambitious musical version of the tale selling out the spacious venue on a Tuesday afternoon.

Co-written by John Montgomery and Derek Batchelor, Flesh relates the story in flashback, explaining how two Irish navvies, working on the digging of the Union Canal, came to murder sixteen people and sell their bodies for dissection. Billy Burke (Jeremy Frazer) was outwardly affable and charming, while his associate, William Hare (Roddy McLeod), was the complete opposite. How they came to work with the well respected anatomist, Dr Robert Knox (Frank Burr), would seem far-fetched if it weren’t absolutely true and, while a little bit of poetic licence has been used here, the story sticks pretty much to the facts. And how apt that the show appears at Surgeon’s Hall, where much of the subterfuge occurred.

References to contemporary tropes – Netflix, zero-hours contracts and luxury cruises all receive a namecheck – are at first jarring but, once the idea beds in, I begin to appreciate the writer’s intentions.

This is a big cast by Fringe standards – fifteen actors in all – so there’s a lot of stage traffic, and this isn’t always well-managed. Scene changes are a real issue: there are too many extended blackouts disrupting the flow (the design of the venue doesn’t help, with props – and sometimes bodies – being dragged off through the central curtains into a clearly lit backstage). Incorporating the transitions into the scenes would improve this enormously.

Niggles aside, everyone involved in the show gives one hundred percent. I particularly enjoy Alison Henry as Burke’s long-suffering partner, Nell (her rendition of No-one Was Listening is delightful) and Tegan Gourlay’s dancing is also a standout.

But this, of course, is a musical version of the story and, happily, the songs are the show’s strongest suit, ranging from poignant ballads to swaggering Celtic rock that sometimes recalls Thin Lizzy at the peak of their considerable powers.

The applause at the show’s conclusion is enthusiastic and heartfelt and I find myself humming the infectious chorus of Sailing to America as I leave. Those who’d like to take home an extra pound of Flesh are invited to purchase a CD of the soundtrack. And why not? They’re cracking tunes.

3 stars

Philip Caveney

The Twenty-Sided Tavern

08/08/22

Pleasance Dome, Bristo Place, Edinburgh

The Twenty-Sided Tavern is billed as experiential entertainment, “destined to delight everyone, from hardcore fans of D&D to those just dipping a toe into the world of role-playing games”. It doesn’t quite live up to this promise. As a toe-dipper, I find it baffling and a little dull. But I’m an outlier here: the show is a sell-out, and the bulk of the audience clearly falls into the former category. Their laughter is raucous; they’re having a whale of a time.

The premise is simple: it’s a choose your own adventure with added dice. We’re in a tavern, and there are three players onstage (Carlina Parker, Mateo Ervin and Madelyn Murphy), as well as a game master (David Andrew Greener Laws) and the tavern keeper (Sarah Davis Reynolds). We’re asked to access their website via a QR code and, from thereon in, it’s interactive insofar as we are allocated a team, then asked to choose which of three characters each player adopts, and to vote between two options at various points along the way. A couple of people are brought onstage for panto-style audience-participation moments, where they’re told to role a dice or throw balls into a pot. And there are a couple of riddles to answer.

But the game-play is more complex, and – to the uninitiated – rather confusing. When they roll a dice, they call the number, but then add other numbers for no reason I can discern (we’re here with two family members who love a good table-top role-playing game, and they explain it to me later). I can see that it would be fun to actually play, if I were inhabiting a character, and was actively involved in shaping the storyline. However, I don’t really enjoy watching it, especially as the players don’t seem to explore their roles beyond a few surface characteristics.

It feels rushed too; indeed, it over-runs by ten minutes, which is a no-no at the Fringe, where audiences and venues have tightly-managed schedules. There’s too much to fit into seventy minutes. It doesn’t help that the tech isn’t working properly (the wifi isn’t strong enough), so a lot of the voting is done in the old ‘analogue’ way – which team can cheer the loudest?

It’s a good idea, and it’s clearly pleasing a lot of people, so I can’t dismiss this out of hand. But I’d file this under ‘for the fans’.

2.5 stars

Susan Singfield

Zach Zucker: Spectacular Industry Showcase

08/08/22

Monkey Barrel 4, Blair Street

Zach Zucker isn’t entirely new to me (I saw him in 2018’s Where Does the Love Go?, in partnership with Viggo Venn), but he’s clearly much more familiar to the crowd packed into the sweltering confines of the Monkey Barrel. When he asks, ‘Who has seen me before?’ a large contingent shouts an enthusiastic ‘Yes!’ He launches into an opening song, his glitter shirt open to the waist, as he works through a series of Travolta-like moves to the sound of a keyboard accompaniment. The fact that the ceiling is mere inches above his head gives the impression that at any moment, he could smash headlong into it, but he manages to get through it without serious injury. Phew!

And then, abruptly, he’s into the stand-up routine and, it has to be said, his confidence is not misplaced. The crowd loves him. A guy sitting in front of me is at serious risk of falling off his chair.

It’s apparent from the word go that Zucker is supremely charismatic, able to ignite belly laughs with the merest sideways glance or throwaway gesture. Some comedians are funny because they have good. material and others because they are just funny in their bones. Zucker falls into the latter category and I cannot deny that he soon has me laughing like a maniac, particularly at the extended routine where he attempts to read a ‘serious’ poem in a weird approximation of a London accent. There’s also comedy gold to be found in the bit where he offers to improvise a rap about three random suggestions from the audience…

But, in a profession where content is king, this does feel increasingly like a sixty-minute slot that’s only got forty minutes worth of material to fill it. Zucker’s tendency to free form and ride on his audience’s evident enthusiasm occasionally feels a bit like repetition. Perhaps Spectacular Industry Showcase (I love the self-aggrandising title) is a work in progress and, over the Fringe run, he’ll add more substance to the pot. I really hope so. It won’t take more than a few extra belters to turn this promising show into a triumph.

Meanwhile, if you’re looking for laughs, make no mistake – you’ll certainly find them here.

3.7 stars

Philip Caveney

The Anniversary

08/08/22

Pleasance Dome

Jim (Daniel Tobias) and Barb (Clare Bartholomew) are eagerly preparing for their 50th wedding anniversary but they’re not always in control of things and some of the items in the finger buffet might better be avoided. Still, they stubbornly insist that every last detail must be just right for their guests. As the clock counts steadily down to party time, the problems become harder to deal with…

This handsomely mounted helping of slapstick from Australian company, Salvador Dinosaur, features no real dialogue, just gibberish and the occasional mention of each other’s names – but the soundtrack is far from silent. It’s essentially a piece about the indignities of ageing, replete with references to forgetfulness, dodgy bowels and the ill-advised over-application of both prescription drugs and prunes. It ought to be tragic but it’s somehow horribly funny.

There’s a delightfully constructed set, a central corridor using forced perspective to make the place seem bigger than it actually is, and cleverly constructed props, designed to fall apart at inappropriate moments. A (mostly) hidden technician takes care of the show’s other ‘performers’ – a cat, a rat and a cuddly rabbit. Tobias and Bartholomew throw themselves into the clowning with gusto. We’ve seen and been impressed by both performers at the Fringe before, Tobias in The Orchid and the Crow in 2015, and Bartholomew in The Long Pigs in 2019.

What begins as silly slapstick metamorphoses steadily into something darker. The weather deteriorates and soon there’s a full-blown thunderstorm and rising flood waters to contend with. There’s a charming scene where Jim improvises a song about his long suffering wife – some Elvis styled mumbling with the occasional ‘Barb’ thrown in for good measure – and Barb’s headlong tumble onto a table laden with food actually makes me gasp. While you can spot some of the gags coming a mile off – put a rabbit and a liquidiser into the same space and the result is both inevitable (and inedible) – The Anniversary nevertheless has me laughing pretty much from start to finish.

If the conclusion is undeniably OTT, it still reinforces the fact that a couple who have been together for fifty years are always going to stick it out to the bitter end, even if some of that sticking involves kitchen knives. Those who relish clowning should give this a go. But be warned, if Jim offers you a taste of his pâté, perhaps you’d best say you’ve already eaten.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

BriTANick

08/08/22

The Box, George Square

Comedy sketch duo (trio, if you include their invisible horse, Midnight), Brian McElhaney and Nick Kocher, hail from Atlanta, Georgia, and call themselves BriTANick (it rhymes with Titanic). They are currently appearing in an adapted shipping container on George Square, much to Nick’s evident disgust, but the place is sold out tonight and the punters are lapping it up.

“Brian” is the more driven of the two, intent on pursuing his art and attaining his goals, while “Nick” has clearly been created for the sole purpose of putting his partner’s dreams through the shredder, mostly by whingeing about stuff: the flight attendant who gave him inferior seats on the flight to Edinburgh; the fact that he and his wife had agreed to have no sexual contact until their wedding – which has already been postponed for two years because of the pandemic; he’s not a happy bunny.

Sketch comedy is notoriously difficult to get right but McElhaney and Kocher do an excellent job of it – they are confident performers, adept at incorporating whatever happens into their show. A couple of late arrivals find themselves featured at one point to much hilarity. They also have a flair for the surreal – Midnight is the first invisible horse we haven’t seen at this year’s Fringe. The sketches are wide ranging, skipping effortlessly from Pythonesque whimsy to clever character studies, and their post-modernist approach to taboo subjects allows them to get away with material that, in less skilled hands, might make audiences uncomfortable.

Of course, the acid test is does it make you laugh? And the answer is a resounding ‘yes!’ I spend the hour giggling, chortling, sniggering and yes, even laughing out loud at some of their more absurd antics. I particularly enjoy an extended thread about dreams. Is Brian really going out with Salma Hayek? Is that an invisible knife I don’t see before me? Only one sketch (a piece abut man-snogging) feels a little over-extended, but most sequences are short and punchy and I do admire the way they keep drawing a line through to earlier sketches to ensure that everything, no matter how disparate, hangs together as a whole.

Audiences hungry for laughter – and let’s face it, after recent world events, that’s most of us – will find it waiting for them in a metal box on George Square. Grab your tickets, form an orderly queue and head inside… but mind you don’t step on Midnight’s tail.

4 stars

Philip Caveney