Theatre

Tokyo Rose

16/08/19

Underbelly Cowgate (Iron Belly), Edinburgh

This lively, 40s themed musical tells the true story of Iva Toguri d’Aquino. Never heard of her? Well, hers is an intriguing story.

Of Japanese descent, Iva was born and raised in California but, in 1941, was asked by her mother to go to Japan to  help her ailing aunt recover from illness. While Iva was there, Pearl Harbour was attacked and America and Japan were suddenly at war with each other. She tried to leave the country but, because the State Department had failed to arrange a passport for her visit, she was prevented from returning to her homeland. Pressured to renounce her American citizenship, she refused.

Against her will, Iva was recruited by The Zero Hour, a radio programme designed to demoralise the American troops that tuned in to listen to it – though the show’s director, Major Charles Cousins, could only persuade her to join by insisting that he had cunning methods to ensure that no anti-American propaganda would ever go out. Iva’s contributions were minimal (she did occasional broadcasts calling herself Little Orphan Anne) but, in 1949, when the war ended, she returned to America, only to find herself accused of treason, identified as the mythical Tokyo Rose.

The story is told through song and movement and it’s beautifully put together, Hannah Benson’s direction ensuring that it moves smoothly from scene to scene using a few well chosen props. Maya Britto is adorable as Iva, her expressions registering her helpless astonishment as her defence crumbles beneath the racially-motivated slurs of the prosecution. Lucy Park, Yuki Sutton, Cara Baldwin and Hannah Benson play a host of supporting roles, flitting effortlessly from character to character – and because this is a complicated tale, the large captioning screen at the side of the stage is helpful even for those of us without a hearing impairment. If I have a nitpick, I’d like to see dialogue spoken rather than sung, just to offer something in the way of contrast – but it’s not a deal-breaker.

Playing to a packed house and sending audiences out on a high, Tokyo Rose is a delight. It also illuminates a fascinating (and little known) story from the Second World War.

Grab a ticket if you can, and strap yourselves in for a bumpy ride.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

Sugar

15/08/19

Sweet Novotel (Novotel 2), Edinburgh

Sugar tells the tale of flatmates Steph (Kate Wilson) and Rhona (Ellie Squires), fed up with their dead-end jobs and dead-end lives. They’d just like to be able to pay the bills without borrowing from Rhona’s boyfriend, Mark (Matthew Ogden), again. When they realise – via Steph’s listless trawling of Tinder – that there are men who will pay quite handsomely for a pair of… used tights… they set aside their qualms, nylon up and set up a small business. Surely nothing can go wrong?

The script, wittily penned by Catrin Evans, is Sugar‘s greatest strength. It’s a quirky, original idea, and the writing is sprightly and lively. There are plenty of laugh-out-loud funny lines, but also some serious points being made – about poorly paid jobs, for example, and the fact that even full-time workers can’t pay their modest bills. I would like a bit more detail about their workplace, though: they are dressed as if they work in retail, but their talk of HR, etc. makes it sound more like they are based in an office. It’s a small thing, but I find myself wondering about it, which is somewhat distracting.

The direction by Evans and Robbie Crow is generally good, allowing dynamic movement in a tiny space, although I do find myself a little irritated by the pointless exits and entrances, where characters leave the stage, only to return five seconds later to exactly the same position. A simple lighting change would be far more effective here, and would look less clumsy.

Although funny and engaging throughout, the acting is a little uneven, with some of the cast playing up the humour to the detriment of credible characterisation. Squires stands out, convincing even when Rhona’s behaviour is utterly ridiculous.

This, though, is partly what the Fringe is for: giving creatives the space to try out new ideas. And this one, I think, has (nylon covered) legs.

3 stars

Susan Singfield

Ripped

15/08/19

Underbelly Cowgate (Belly Laugh), Edinburgh

‘Jack’ has an all-consuming mission – to turn himself into a ‘real’ man. You know what I mean by that… bulging biceps, a rock-hard six-pack, the ability to face down any adversary and come out on top.

With this is mind, he’s spending a lot of time down the gym, lifting weights, doing push-ups. He models himself on Rambo (‘don’t push it or I’ll give you a war you won’t believe’), and he dreams about having the authority to make other men step aside. At the gym, he meets Max, a weightlifter, and the two of them hit it off. Pretty soon, Jack is running with his new friend’s gang, drinking Stella, snorting lines of coke and immersing himself in a foetid stew of toxic masculinity. But, as the story unfolds, we begin to realise that something bad has happened to Jack, back when he was just some skinny kid called Jamie – something that, try as he might, he cannot banish from his mind. Something that haunts him. Something that is destroying him.

Ripped is a monologue, written and performed by Alex Gwyther and direct by Max Lindsay. It’s a play that tackles a subject that few dramatists are prepared to take on, because the subject is so taboo. But here male rape is confronted head on, and laid bare in all its unspeakable horror.

Not only is this a beautifully written piece, one that walks a perilous tightrope between dark comedy and outright shock, but it also features a performance so powerful and compelling that I find myself riveted by it. I’m clearly not alone. Gwyther receives an impassioned standing ovation at the play’s conclusion.

I cannot promise that you’ll enjoy this play, but it positively demands to be seen. And I have just one more word to add to this review.

Wow.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

 

 

Sexy Lamp

14/08/19

Pleasance Courtyard (Baby Grand), Edinburgh

I know I’m going to like this show as soon as I enter the room, and am offered a rhubarb and custard boiled sweet. There’s a huge jar of them being passed around, while Katie Arnstein – the writer/performer responsible – sits on stage, dressed in a leopard-print dressing gown, with a lampshade on her head. A quirky, inclusive atmosphere is established even before we have begun.

In some ways, Sexy Lamp could be dismissed as – yawn – yet another monologue about an actor struggling to cope, which is certainly a popular theme at this year’s Fringe. But this piece is so charming and well-crafted that it’s impossible not to warm to it – and it’s outward-looking too. Arnstein doesn’t just tell us about how she‘s dealt with her problems: she opens up her outrage; this is a call to arms.

Arnstein is immensely likeable. As she sheds the lampshade, she expounds Kelly Sue DeConnick’s theory about movies and plays: if there’s a scene where a woman can be replaced with a sexy lamp without derailing the plot, this indicates that something is awry.

From here, we learn about Arnstein’s childhood dream to be an actor – or, more specifically, to be Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. That first young impulse stays with her, and leads her to drama school, then out into the world as an actor seeking work. And then, to her horror, exposes her to the unspeakable sexism rife in the industry.

To Arnstein’s credit, this never feels self-indulgent. Her indignation is real and justified, and presented with a clear understanding of how to win over an audience. Her feminism is expressed through witty songs (self-accompanied on the ukulele) and delivered with bags of natural charisma. As she struggles to assert herself, to define her own parameters, she sends a clear message to all of us: even in such a competitive industry, acquiescence is not always worth it; sometimes it’s better to say ‘no’ than it is to say ‘yes, and…’

4.6 stars

Susan Singfield

The First King of England in a Dress

14/08/19

theSpace Triplex (Studio), Edinburgh

Epic Tales give a likeable performance in The First King of England in a Dress, a story of Vikings and English folk – and, of course, good ol’ King Canute. Between them, Kate Madison, Chip Colquhoun and Izzy Dawson portray a raft of characters, holding the audience’s attention with ease.

It’s not perfect. For starters, it’s crying out for a soundtrack to help convey both mood and location. And I’m not sure why the audience participation is limited to reluctant adults; it seems to me it would make more sense to take enthusiastic child volunteers. Sure, they’re less predictable and might derail the story a little, but I think the cast should take that risk. The piece could benefit from the silliness that may ensue, and it’d be easy enough for these seasoned storytellers to get things back on track.

The biggest issue for me though is the gender stereotyping, which seems a little out of step with current thinking. Of course, the story demands that girls are disguised as boys to escape the evil woman-hunting monks, but the narrative could surely acknowledge that’s not how we do things now, that signifiers such as dresses and long hair are no longer important.

Still, it’s an enjoyable fifty minutes, and these three performers certainly know how to tell a tale. The props are detailed and interesting, creating a real sense of the time and place. Young performer Izzy Dawson has a truly lovely singing voice, and I like the use of the lyre to accompany her. A rain stick is also utilised to great effect.

These three actors have an easy rapport with the kids in the audience, and have created an enjoyable little show.

3 stars

Susan Singfield

Blizzard

13/08/19

Assembly Hall, Edinburgh

I’m not usually a big fan of the circus. The glitzy outfits and macho posturing tend to put me off and prevent me from concentrating on the undoubted skills of the performers. But here I sit amidst a packed crowd at the Assembly Hall. My heart’s in my mouth and I’m thrilled to the core as I watch a team of acrobats hurtle up and down on a trampoline. They land like soaring birds on a precarious wooden perch high above me.

Flip Fabrique hail from Quebec and they are unlike any troupe I’ve seen before, presenting a strange but enchanting blend of circus skills, theatre and music. The conceit of Blizzard is that it takes place during ‘adverse weather conditions.’ Snow flakes drift down onto the stage as people trudge out of the wings wreathed in hooded parkas – but, within moments, the sensible clothing has been cast off and  an aerial act is whirling magisterially overhead.

A snowball fight turns into a symphony of frantic leaping and somersaulting. A performer is thrown effortlessly through the air and caught, an instant before her head makes contact with a wooden floor – no safety nets here! And, throughout the show, Ben Nasrellah performs a live score, tinkling  away on a state-of-the-art keyboard cloned with an upright piano, strumming on a guitar and, at one point, compelling the audience to clap gleefully along with him. He’s as integral to this act as the other performers.

I love the precision of this show, the way that every component (including that amazing keyboard) is wheeled smoothly around to accomodate the next sequence – and the next. The finale features a huge metal rectangle, hoisted up to balance improbably on one corner while the entire troupe clambers around inside it like a swarm of industrious insects. The result is breathtaking.

If you see only one circus act during the Fringe, Blizzard is the family-friendly spectacle you don’t want to miss. It is, quite simply, stunningly good.

4.8 stars

Philip Caveney

 

In PurSUEt

13/08/19

theSpace at Niddry Street (Lower Theatre), Edinburgh

I’m drawn to this show by the vibrant poster; I quite like Ms Perkins, and the tale of a quirky superfan (apparently based on a true story) is appealing to me. In reality, Eleanor Higgins’ In PurSUEt  isn’t so much about the titular Sue, as it is about the protagonist’s struggle with alcoholism.

It’s not really In PurSUEt’s fault that I’ve seen a few too many introspective shows at this year’s fringe – there are, for some reason, lots of micro-dramas about personal issues. As I tend to prefer more outward-looking work (I like intimacy in drama, but find it more interesting if there’s something more universal in the mix), I guess I’m just not this production’s target audience.

I have a few issues with the story too: I get very little sense of the character’s life outside of booze-and-Sue (she must have one; how else is she funding her impulsive trips in pursuit of her heroine?). And why doesn’t Sue recognise her after so many odd encounters? I’m not even sure what it is about Perkins that attracts Higgins in the first place, because she never says what it is she finds so appealing about the Bake-Off star.

Still, there’s no denying that Higgins is an engaging performer, and there are some funny sequences here and quite a few cutting one-liners. She also, as it turns out, has a lovely singing voice. And, in the end, her redemption feels earned.

3 stars

Susan Singfield

The Professor

12/08/19

Assembly Rooms (Drawing Room), George Street, Edinburgh

The audience files politely into the theatre and we take our seats. The lights dim and in comes our speaker for the day, who assigns us the roles of university students, here to attend his latest lecture. None of us feels inclined to argue the point. He immediately announces that today’s talk will take a break from the advertised subject and will instead make a few unexpected detours. Written by Brian Parks and performed by David Calvitto, The Professor depicts a man on the verge of a change – and moreover, not one he’s making by choice.

So we are offered a scattershot lecture on the joys of mathematics, the history of theatre and a snarling put down of the limitations of dance. Calvitto steers his way expertly through the very witty and hyper-verbose script, occasionally delivering dazzling one-liners and even pausing at one point to perform some lines in verse (because poetry that doesn’t rhyme is worthless, right?), accompanying himself on a mandolin. What’s clever here is that this professor cannot resist thrusting large chunks of his own prejudices and foibles into what ought to be a dispassionate account. He also believes that cats (and racoons) can read books. Don’t ask. And all of this, really, is just an elaborate set up for what must be the most protracted fart gag in history.

This is a slight but pleasing piece that starts and ends strongly enough, but feels a little unfocused in the middle.

Those who have worked in the world of academia will doubtless recognise a lot of what goes on here. The rest of us will just be too busy giggling about that fart joke.

3.5 stars

Philip Caveney

Boswell

Boswell 2

11/08/19

PQA Venues at Riddle’s Court, Edinburgh

Marie Kohler’s Boswell is an interesting play, offering insight into the relationship between Boswell (Brian Gill) and Johnson (Brian Mani). As the two men embark on their famous 1773 tour of Scotland, they are joined onstage by Joanie Weinstein (Abbey Siegworth), a 1950s American academic, in the UK to research Johnson. Her studies lead her to straight-talking Fiona (Laura Gordon), widow of one of Boswell’s direct descendants, and owner of a trove of unseen documents. Initially dismayed to discover the boxes contain far more Boswell than Johnson, Joanie soon finds herself fascinated by the former’s candid journals, and is determined to find out more about the libidinous ‘scribbler’.

The action cuts nicely between the two time periods. Joanie is ever present; it’s her reading of Boswell’s papers that is being played before us. The script is well-written, with witty dialogue and an energetic pace. Of course it takes liberties with the facts – it’s a play, not a historical document – but it evokes the 1770s well, and gives a real sense of the men’s relationship.

I like most of the humour. An early scene where David Garrick makes an appearance is particularly amusing, and Johnson’s curmudgeonly dismissal of the Scots is laugh out loud funny. Less successful are the repeated ‘don’t Scottish people sound funny?’ lines, particularly as – with the exception of Brian Gill – the Scottish accents deployed by the actors are uniformly atrocious (the acting is generally very good, but those accents… oh dear…). This is, it must be said, a bit tone-deaf.

The thawing of hostilities between Joanie and Fiona is nicely drawn, and the parallels between the two friendships are clear. It’s a neat trick to introduce David Hume as well, one-time inhabitant of this venue here at Riddle’s Court.

3.8 stars

Susan Singfield

 

Fishbowl

11/08/19

Pleasance Grand, Edinburgh

This quirky, captivating production from French theatre group Le Fils Du Grand Réseau is a recent winner of the Molière award for Best Comedy, and is playing to packed houses at the Pleasance Grand. It’s easy to see why. With its impeccably timed visual gags and ingenious production design, it contains beautifully devised sequences that are comparable to the work of Mack Sennet at his best. It is, essentially, a silent comedy, one that – again and again – elicits absolute gales of laughter from the auditorium.

This is all about the eccentricities and indignities of city living. We observe the lives of three neighbours, living cheek by jowl in adjoining attic apartments in Paris. There’s a shambolic hoarder, eking out a lonely existence amidst chaotic heaps of detritus; a karaoke-loving guy who inhabits a zen-like, white painted box; and a new arrival, a woman who styles herself as a holistic healer-hairdresser-masseur, but who clearly has none of the necessary training to practise these skills with any degree of success. When both men cast an asquisitive gaze in her direction, the scene is set for a series of rivalries and madcap misadventures.

There’s something deliciously old school about this production. I love the way it tells its unfolding story over an extended period of time, showing how people have the capacity to change – and I particularly like a brief moment where the technicians toiling behind the scenes are ‘accidentally’ put on display. If the story occasionally leans a little too heavily on the toilet gags, it’s nonetheless endlessly inventive, and I can truthfully say it isn’t quite like anything I’ve seen before.

Book your seats for the Grand. You’ll laugh mightily, even when the merde hits the fan.

4.5 stars

Philip Caveney