Theatre

Post-Mortem

05/08/19

Assembly George Square (Studio Five), Edinburgh

Post-Mortem is the story of Nancy (Essie Barrow) and Alex (Iskandaar R Sharazuddin)’s teenage relationship, and the awkwardness of meeting as adults, ten years after splitting up. They have some serious unresolved issues, but is their best friends’ wedding really the appropriate place to finally confront these demons?

Both Barrow and Sharazuddin are deeply focused performers, with a physical intensity that suits this intimate play. Sharazuddin also wrote the piece, and he deploys some exquisite (and sometimes deliberately cringey) wordplay; the language is spare but poetic, the characters’ emotions deftly drawn. Nancy and Alex are not always likeable; they’re difficult and flawed – and that’s what makes this work.

The non-chronological structure is complex, but handled so well that we’re never in any doubt as to where and when we are. The show slips in time, and it slips in tone too: one moment laugh-out-loud funny, the next poignant and sad. These changing moods are as expertly choreographed as the dance sequences that punctuate the play.

Under Jessica Rose McVay’s assured direction, this is an impressive piece of work.

4.2 stars

Susan Singfield

 

 

Chris Dugdale: Down To One

04/08/19

Assembly Rooms, (Drawing Room), Edinburgh

What is the mysterious hold that Chris Dugdale has over us? We first saw him back in 2015, where we awarded his show maximum stars and one of our first Edinburgh Bouquets. We’ve been back for more every year since. Are we simply suffering from an acute case of FOMO? Or did he somehow manage to hypnotise us?

Whatever the case, here we are again in the front row of Down To One, watching in slack-jawed amazement as he runs an enthusiastic crowd through his latest set of bewildering, bamboozling and downright heart-stopping magic. The evening is regularly punctuated with gasps of astonishment and bursts of applause.

This year is mostly about numbers and predictions. Seemingly impossible feats of mathematics and memory are thrown out with consummate ease. An audience member, chosen by a series of random events, suddenly appears to be able to speak foreign languages without breaking a sweat. There’s close up card trickery, the magician’s hands shown live on a giant screen behind him, so we’ve every opportunity to spot that cunnng sleight of hand… but, of course we don’t, because this is so faultlessly executed it’s little wonder that Chris is banned from playing in many casinos in America. His generous offer to meet members of the audience for a hand of poker afterwards go unanswered.

Look, when it comes to superlatives, we’ve pretty much used them all up when talking about Mr Dugdale. All I can say is, if you’re a lover of magic shows (and there are plenty of them on the Fringe this year), this is the one you really mustn’t miss. Get in early and watch his hands very carefully.

And I’m thinking, this year we might be slightly less generous with those stars… maybe we’ll just give him… ah, no. Can’t do it.

Looks like we really are under his spell.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

 

Leave a Message

04/08/19

Gilded Balloon (Patter Hoose), Edinburgh

Ed (Ed Coleman) arrives at the flat of his recently deceased father, Nicholas. He’s been saddled with the thankless task of clearing the place out. Luckily for him, he’s soon joined by his close friend, Sarah (Eleanor Fanyinka), who makes valiant attempts to jolly him through the process, but it’s no easy matter. Nicholas was a loner, who walked out on his marriage years ago, and has been estranged from his son ever since.

Poking through the paperwork, Ed discovers several references to Linda (Denise Stephenson) and begins to realise that there are things about his father he doesn’t know – and that the two of them might have more in common than he wants to accept. So he calls Linda and invites her over for a heart-to-heart.

Co-written by Coleman and James Mitchell,  Leave a Message positively crackles with taut, witty dialogue, coaxing plenty of laughs out of what could so easily be a maudlin tale of self-destruction. Indeed, the scene where Ed and Sarah cavort through the rubbish-strewn apartment to the strains of A-Ha’s Take On Me comes close to being downright joyful. The performances are uniformly engaging, the actors breathing real life into their respective characters. These feel suspiciously like real people.

If you’re looking for sharp insightful writing and assured acting, then this is a perfect place to look. Go, enjoy this and tell all your friends.

Leave a Message is a cracker.

4.5 stars

Philip Caveney

Detour: A Show About Changing Your Mind

03/08/19

Underbelly Bristo Square (Buttercup), Edinburgh

Detour is Diana Dinerman’s account of how her life has taken unexpected turns: from dancer to historian to stand-up comedian. In this solo show, she charts the twists and turns of the path she’s trodden, using modern dance as an illustrative technique.

Dance – and its allegorical associations – is the strength of this show. The standout moment for me is when Dinerman performs the key features of three leading practitioners, a precise and economical demonstration that even non-dancers like me can understand. These ideas – of taking up space, contracting, separating out the limbs – are then interwoven into her story, physical metaphors for emotional discoveries. It’s a neat concept.

The opening third is very funny, with some wry witticisms and keen observations. From thereon in, there are fewer jokes, as Dinerman details a period of emotional distress and subsequent self-discovery. She speaks well, and the tale flows easily, but this section is a bit too self-help-manual for me. I admit, I’m not generally good with publicly-voiced introspection (I’m a “roll-your-eyes-and-call-it-naval-gazing” cynical kind of gal), so I’m really not the ideal audience member for this show. Certainly, as we left, the people behind us were most appreciative, enthusing about how insightful and thought-provoking they’d found it.

So, if you enjoy soul-searching with a dash of comedy, this could just be the show for you.

3 stars

Susan Singfield

Beep Boop

02/08/19

Assembly, George Square (Blue Room), Edinburgh

Physical comedy is one of the hardest things to pull off successfully. Because its practitioners sometimes make it look ridiculously easy, we’re sometimes fooled into thinking that it actually is; but it only takes a few moments in the company of a gifted mime artist to appreciate how rigorously they have trained themselves to reach such levels of perfection. New York-based performer Richard Saudek is a brilliant exponent of the form. And today, in a very hot enclosed space on the Edinburgh Fringe, it certainly doesn’t look easy. The sweat is literally raining from him as he manipulates his face and body into a whole range of frantic contortions.

In Beep Boop, Saudek plays a man addicted to his own technology: his phone, his tablet, his laptop; he cannot seem to tear himself away from them. Locked up in his apartment, he appears to have lost the skill of maintaining a genuine friendship. A knock on the door is treated with open hostility. The voice of a woman offering beauty tips online is the closest he ever gets to a conversation. He cannot even make a meal without photographing it, sharing it online and then dumping it in the bin.

This is a hard act to review, simply because every move, every gesture, tells us something new about this man’s tortured character. Aided only by a series of sound effects -provided by a po-faced female assistant – Saudek flings himself through a series of manic vaudevillian twists as his beloved devices subsume him, affect him and ultimately attempt to destroy him. And if I’m in danger of making the whole thing sound a bit on the grim side, don’t be misled. This is brilliantly, howlingly funny stuff. Saudek’s range of facial expressions alone are enough to have me in stitches.

Weirdly, for me, much of the humour comes from recognising myself in this weird mix. Saudek’s character exhibits traits that are uncomfortably familiar – and in a way, that’s the real strength of what he accomplishes here. It’s like looking at yourself in a funfair mirror.

If you like mime and physical theatre, then don’t miss this show. You’ll be in for a treat.

4.5 stars

Philip Caveney

The Pat Hobby Stories

02/08/19

Gilded Balloon Teviot (Sportsmans), Edinburgh

Until today, I’d never heard F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Pat Hobby stories. I’ve read Gatsby, of course, and Tender is the Night, but these witty so-called ‘throw away’ tales are completely new to me.

And I like them. Pat Hobby is a dissolute writer (think Ed Reardon, but in 1930s Hollywood), clinging to the vestiges of a once illustrious career. His meagre writing skills have been rendered obsolete by the arrival of talkies, and the subsequent requirement for actual scripted dialogue. He hangs around the studio lots, blagging food and calling in favours, taking on odd bits of jobs to earn a buck or two. He’s a gift of a character: all bluster and envy, lurching perilously from scrape to scrape.

No wonder Fringe Management wanted to put him on the stage.

Paul Birchard brings the loveable rogue to life with consummate ease, telling the stories as written, describing Hobby’s actions in the third person, yet still embodying him convincingly. There’s real warmth in the performance, and personality; the grit behind the Hollywood glitz is revealed in this small room.

The room, however, does not do this production any favours. The soundproofing seems to be non-existent, and the show next door is some kind of rollicking romp, with loud music, mic’d performers, and lots of raucous laughter and applause. I have no idea how Birchard manages to concentrate, but he’s clearly a seasoned professional, ignoring it completely, not letting the disruption interrupt his flow. It doesn’t spoil the show exactly (I get used to the noise after a while), but it is annoying, and threatens the intimacy of this detailed portrayal. Hopefully (sorry Jacob Rees-Mogg), the venue will get this sorted for tomorrow, and Birchard will be able to perform in peace.

A clever, amusing show – this deserves to be seen.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Gun

01/08/19

Assembly Rooms, Front Room

Of all the movie genres that are regularly spoofed for comic effect, the Western is perhaps the one that’s most ripe with potential. Gun is a comedy monologue, written and performed by Will Hartley, formally one quarter of the Clever Peter sketch troupe, in which he gamely takes on twenty-five characters, with little more than a battered Stetson and some extremely ropey scenery to back him up. 

There’s an amiable, ramshackle quality to this piece, that only serves to add to the general hilarity. When Hartley manages to inadvertently knock over some of the aforementioned cardboard scenery, the moment is gleefully incorporated into the narrative – and when, in a later scene, there’s a four way shootout to enact, Hartley rises magnificently to the occasion, snapping from one character to the next, ensuring that we’re never in any doubt as to who is shooting whom – and why.

Meanwhile, Western buffs will have a field day spotting the various cinematic references – with an Ennio Morricone-style music cue here and a Clint Eastwood cliché there. There’s little point in going into the convoluted storyline; suffice to say there are few Western tropes left undisturbed. Hartley cleverly works the titles of scores of iconic movies into his script and, as the story unfolds, I find myself ticking them off in an imaginary box in my head. A climactic sequence, where Hartley is obliged to enact a torrid sex scene with himself, is a particular delight.

While it’s not designed to linger long in the memory, Gun is an ideal vehicle for those audiences looking for a good old belly laugh. Why not mosey on down to the Assembly Rooms and grab yourself a fist full of giggles?

4 stars

Philip Caveney

 

Endless Second

01/08/19

Pleasance Courtyard (Below), Edinburgh

Theo Toksvig-Stewart’s play about consent is an intense, emotionally demanding piece – and, my word, it’s impressive.

Directed by Camilla Gürtler, Endless Second chronicles the relationship between W (Madeleine Gray) and M (Toksvig-Stewart), two drama students who fall in love on the first day of their course. They’re devoted to one another; they’re sweet and supportive; they meet each other’s families; it’s perfect, idyllic. So when M rapes W one drunken night, it’s hard for her to process exactly what’s happened.

This is a beautifully nuanced piece, at once unflinching and disarming, almost forensic in its examination of the impact of M’s actions. The narrative structure is interesting, and both performances utterly compelling. I especially like the fact that M is never demonised: nice boys do this too, unless they’re taught about consent.

W’s inarticulacy following the rape is heartbreakingly convincing, a clear answer to those who question why women stay with violent men, or why rape victims don’t report immediately. She can’t admit to herself that he did that to her; not M, who’s so kind, so loving, so aware of all his privilege, who’d never hurt anyone. Facing up to what he’s done means shattering her life; no wonder she buries the knowledge deep inside; no wonder it haunts her and changes what they have.

I can’t say I enjoy this play exactly; I spend half of it weeping and am wrung out by the end. It’s clever and thought-provoking and, yes, important too.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

 

Normaler Than Everyone

31/07/19

Gilded Balloon Teviot, Nightclub

The first show of the Fringe is always an uncertain affair. Audiences are still warming up, the performers are finding their feet and the ticketing system is going through the difficult process of ‘settling in.’ So it’s gratifying to start with something so good, and so ideally suited to a Fringe setting. It’s intimate, confessional and thought-provoking – everything you’d want in one handy package.

The lights dim and out strolls Brian Joseph, a tall affable American, clearly brimming with self-confidence. He picks up an acoustic guitar and plays in a style that evokes the great Don McLean, a whimsical song about how ‘normal’ he is, how he’s just an ordinary guy with nothing much to say. But don’t be fooled. He has plenty to tell us and it helps that he’s so versatile, delivering songs in a range of styles on a variety of stringed instruments and, at one point, even bashing out a jaunty Randy Newmanesque piece on an electric keyboard.

His set is regularly punctuated by his photographs – indeed, he takes a few pictures of the audience along the way and invites us to return the favour – and, as his story unfolds, it gradually begins to dawn on me that there is a darker subtext here, one that is finally revealed in a moment that actually hits me like a punch to the solar plexus. I won’t spoil it by revealing what it is, but prepare to be moved.

Joseph guides us expertly through his ‘based-on-real-experience’ story, manipulating his audience with real aplomb and somehow, after dragging my emotions over the coals, he still manages to send me out of the show, singing the chorus of his final song over and over. (Apologies to anyone unlucky enough to be in earshot.)

If this is a portent of what’s to come this year, then bring it on. But whatever the case, Normaler Than Everyone is well worth your attention.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

Amélie: the Musical

25/06/19

My first thought on hearing that Jean Pierre-Jeunet’s 2001 movie had been turned into a stage musical was ‘how the hell are they going to pull that off?’ The answer? With charm and élan. Unlike so many recent ‘film-to-stage’ adaptations, which are merely attempts to slavishly copy the look and feel of the original, Amélie: the Musical is an accomplished theatrical experience in its own right.

It is, off course, the story of Amélie Poulain (Audrey Brisson), a shy loner who lives her life vicariously through the experiences of others. As a child (where she is adorably portrayed by a puppet), her eccentric parents convince themselves that their little girl is suffering from a rare heart condition and subsequently deny her all contact with the outside world. Little wonder she turns out as she does.

After her mother’s bizarre death and her father’s increasing isolation, Amelie realises she needs to seek new horizons. She packs a bag and heads off to Paris, where she takes a job as a waitress in a little café and becomes increasingly involved in the lives of her colleagues, customers and neighbours. She also bumps into Nino (Danny Mac) on the Metro, a young man who has a strange preoccupation with public photo-booths. She immediately feels a powerful attraction to him – but how will she ever overcome her shyness and summon up the courage to speak to him?

There’s an ensemble cast of sixteen actors, all of whom play musical instruments and most of whom are onstage throughout, providing a haunting accompaniment to the action. The songs by Nathan Tyson and Daniel Messé are memorable – I particularly enjoy the sequence where Amélie fantasises that she is the recently deceased Princess Diana, and Elton John (Caolin McCarthy) delivers a heartfelt elegy to mark her passing. Special mention should also be made of Madeleine Girling’s ingenious set design, which, with a few minor adjustments, manages to transform itself into a whole series of locations, as the cast troop back and forth with military precision. As Amélie, Brisson is an extraordinary presence, whether she’s slinking around in pursuit of some new objective or zooming effortlessly up to her circular lair above the action.

Amelie: the Musical comes closer than most film adaptations to achieving the best of both worlds. Fans of the movie will feel that it has been shown exactly the right amount of respect, while lovers of theatre will enjoy this as a gloriously eccentric theatrical event.

Win-win!

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney