Theatre

Early Birds

13/08/18

PQA Venues, Riddle’s Court, Edinburgh

Early Birds is a gentle tribute to the hit TV sit-com, Birds of a Feather. Penned by the same writers, Maurice Gran and Laurence Marks, it charts the development of the show, from its inauspicious conception to the mighty 13 million viewers who tuned in for the first episode. It made stars of its lead actors, notably Linda Robson and Pauline Quirke, and it’s the latter whose project this really is, commissioned especially for the Pauline Quirke Academy’s inaugural Edinburgh Fringe programme.

Fans of the original sit-com will no doubt be charmed by this addition to the canon. There are no great revelations, but we do learn about the crucial moment when Maurice (Alastair Natkiel) saw two women and their gangster boyfriends looking incongruous in a posh hotel, and began to ruminate on their circumstances, thus sparking the idea. And it’s interesting to see the writers’ battles with bureaucracy, all the ‘nearlies’ and ‘almosts’ that could easily have sunk the show.

Harriet Watson and Katriona Perrett are perfectly cast as Pauline/Sharon and Linda/Tracey, giving lively, sparky performances. Sue Appleby is also good as Lesley Joseph/Dorien, and Charlie Quirke (Pauline Quirke’s real-life son) is quite the scene-stealer, both as Mr Timms, the supercilious dole officer sneering at Pauline’s thespian aspirations, and as Allan, a wheeler-dealer TV producer/money man.

If there’s a problem, it’s to do with a script that feels more like TV than theatre, with lots of short scenes that flit between locations, and it’s not helped by all the unnecessary moving of furniture. Why are there two different sofas being dragged on and off the stage, for example? Surely a throw or a even a change of lighting would be enough to let us know we’re somewhere else at another time? The frequent set changes slow down the pace and disrupt the story’s flow.

The best part by far is the re-enactment of the first episode’s recording, complete with floor managers, make-up artists and even a warm-up comedian. This section is a lot of fun, and the performers are clearly enjoying what they do.

If you fancy a slice of nostalgia and enjoy an origins story, then this just might be the show for you.

3 stars

Susan Singfield

Island Town

13/08/18

Paines Plough at Roundabout, Summerhall, Edinburgh

We’re big fans of Roundabout here at B & B. Paines Plough’s portable, in-the-round theatre is a wonderful space and we’ve seen some fantastic performances here. Island Town is an especially exciting prospect for us, being a co-production between Paines Plough and Theatr Clwyd; as North Walians, we’re keen to see what this collaboration brings.

Writer Simon Longman clearly knows about small towns, about the stifling going-nowhere feelings that make people feel trapped. The location here is unspecified, ‘this town surrounded by fields’, circled by a ring road, is impossible to escape. It’s anywhere and everywhere, as symbolised by the actors’ regional accents: one Derby (I think), one Manchester and one Welsh.

This is Kate’s story, and Katherine Pearce is captivating in the role of the angry teen, full of impotent fury, raging at the injustice that sees her marooned, caring for her dying father, permanently drunk because it’s the only outlet she has. She yearns for something better, longs to head off beyond her narrow horizon, to see more of the world. But she’s tethered: too poor, too tied down, too ill-equipped to leave.

Her friends, Sam (Charlotte O’Leary) and Pete (Jack Wilkinson), are more accepting of their lot. Sam’s main concern is protecting her little sister from their violent dad, while Pete’s only ambition is to be a dad himself. Pete in particular is a tragic case: he’s a sweet character, positive and hopeful; he doesn’t ask for much. But the system seems designed to grind him down. He hasn’t any qualifications and there are no jobs locally. He can’t even get the benefits he’s entitled to, because the bus service has been cancelled so he can’t get to the job centre to sign on.

There’s no doubt about it, this is a bleak play, but there is humour too, a nicely balanced tug of war between hope and despair. And, as we draw towards the teens’ inevitable fate, we start to make sense of the strange jerking movements they’ve been making in the transitions between scenes…

Perhaps the penultimate section is a tad too long, a little too spelled-out, but all in all this is an impressive piece, a darkly accurate commentary on those society leaves behind.

4.5 stars

Susan Singfield

Not in our Neighbourhood

12/08/18

Gilded Balloon, Rose Theatre, Edinburgh

Not In Our Neighbourhood arrives in Edinburgh as part of the ‘New Zealand at the Fringe’ package. This powerful and compelling production, written and directed by Jamie McCaskill, tackles the difficult subject of domestic abuse and features an astonishing central performance from Kali Kopae. We’ve already seen some superb acting at the Fringe this year, but this might just be the most impressive yet.

Kopae plays young filmmaker, Maisey Mata, who is shooting a documentary at a Women’s Refuge. We first see her setting up a tripod to film her introduction – but, we can’t help noticing, there’s no camera on that tripod. In essence, the audience becomes the camera, watching as Kopae depicts several of the women that Mata meets at the Refuge. There’s motor-mouthed Sasha, the young mother of several children who just can’t help getting herself into hot water. There’s 51-year-old Cat, so worn down by years of systematic abuse by family members that she can hardly construct a sentence. There’s Moira, the bubbly and ever pragmatic woman who runs the refuge. And there’s Teresa, an outwardly successful businesswoman, who appears to have everything she needs, but has endured a violent marriage for twenty years and kept her grievances under wraps… until now.

Kopae switches effortlessly from character to character, inhabiting each role so expertly that we’re never in any doubt as to who is talking at any given moment. The term ‘tour de force’ is often used, but is rarely as deserved as it is here.

With acting this accomplished it would be all too easy to overlook the writing, but that too deserves our praise. The script nimbly avoids cliche and presents a completely credible exploration of its chosen subject. It may not be the kind of thing that draws big festival crowds but make no mistake, this is a fabulous piece of theatre that deserves to be seen by as many people as possible. Get yourselves down to the Rose Theatre with all haste, before this wonderful show heads back to NZ. It’ll be your loss.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Beetlemania: Kafka for Kids

12/08/18

Pleasance Dome (Queen), Edinburgh

Kafka? For kids? Really? It doesn’t sound like a goer, to be honest. But – it turns out – Kafka can indeed be repurposed for kids, and rendered funny and entertaining for adults too.

I’m vaguely familiar with Kafka’s work. I first encountered Die Verwandlung while studying for a degree in German literature, and then – during a second degree course, this time in theatre studies – met up with its English translation (Metamorphosis) via Berkoff’s infamous production. I’ve read The Trial, too, and The Castle, but not recently; in short, I know just about enough to be sure that Beetlemania: Kafka for Kids will have to pull something rather special out of the bag if it is to hit its mark. And does it? Oh yes, it really does.

The show is a delight from start to finish, the deceptive simplicity of the knockabout comedy concealing some clever structural stuff, and layered references to Kafka’s obsessions and stylistic tics. It’s all there: humanity-crushing bureaucracy, alienation, despair. There’s poverty too, and hope – and much absurdity. And, in Tom Parry (he of Pappy’s fame)’s script, it all comes together to make a genuinely funny and illustrative hour of fun – for all the family.

Parry stars in the show as well, as Karl, the hapless entertainer who’s inadvertently robbed a Royal Mail van, the contents of which serve as makeshift set and props. He’s joined by Will Adamsdale, who plays the troupe’s frustrated leader, Karter, and Heidi Niemi (Kat), who speaks Finnish throughout. The trio are interrupted, intermittently, by the marvellous Rose Robinson (last seen by Bouquets & Brickbats in Great British Mysteries: 1599? earlier this week), who plays a series of officious bureaucrats, each one more demanding than the last.

We’re introduced to miserable tales, where Poseidon is crushed by the weight of his paperwork, where a bridge loses faith in its ability to connect. We’re drawn in, made accomplices; we tell lies to officials to protect the performers. The kids in the audience are utterly enthralled. We don’t have any kids with us, but we are entranced too.

It’s a rainy day, so numbers are down; it’s a shame to see so many empty seats when the material is as good as this. Any families out there looking for something quirky, something different – I urge you to give this a go.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

Stardust

11/08/18

Pleasance Dome, Edinburgh

Stardust is all about cocaine – its history, its usage, its properties. It’s about the way a tribal drug, used for thousands of years in religious ceremonies has been taken up by the Western world, exploited and commodified; how people are enslaved by it, murdered because of it and how casual users across the Western world, no matter how they might protest, now have blood on their hands. Make no mistake, this is a hard-hitting piece.

Our MC for this show is Miguel Hernando Torres Umba, a charismatic artist/performer making his debut at the Fringe. He uses many different techniques to get his story across. There are dreamy back projections, and ethereal music. For one section he adopts the persona of a game show host and gets the entire audience to interact with him. In another, he spoofs the famous scene from Scarface where Pacino takes all those bullets. Oh, and did I mention that he’s also an incredible dancer? One section where he depicts, through dance, the way that cocaine acts on the senses is a real highlight for me. He dances like he’s just inadvertently stepped on a 60,000 volt cable… leaping and scrambling around the stage until the inevitable comedown hits him and everything goes eerily into slow motion.

There are plenty of laughs scattered throughout this exciting multi-media show, but it clearly has a very serious message. Umba now lives in London, but was born in Colombia and is understandably sick of the way his nation is habitually depicted, how everybody in the West assumes that his countrymen are all drug dealers. He demonstrates very effectively how the people that grow coca are themselves victims of the organised crime that has grown up around the harvesting of the plant. There are the harrowing testimonies of people too scared not to grow it, people who have seen their relatives tortured and murdered in order to make them obey.

This is a powerful polemic delivered as a slice of entertainment, sharp enough and affecting enough to change hearts and minds. Go and see this and, whatever your views on cocaine, prepare to be enlightened.

4.5 stars

Philip Caveney

Gulliver Returns

11/08/18

Underbelly (Big Belly), Cowgate, Edinburgh

Gulliver Returns, written and directed by Dan Coleman, is an interesting piece of work. We first meet Lil (Cathy Conneff), whose introduction warns us that her husband, Adam (Jack Bence), has recently started demanding that she call him Lemuel Gulliver, and that he identifies completely with the protagonist of Swift’s most famous book.

What follows is a clever interweaving of Gulliver’s Travels and Adam’s apparent breakdown, the novel serving as an allegory for Adam’s struggle to cope with bereavement, with loss. Lil humours him, supports him, helps him to tell his tall tales – because she loves him and she wants him to be well. As Gulliver, he moves ever further away from her; by joining in his stories, she tries to draw him back.

It’s serious stuff, with a lot to say about mental health as well as an analysis of a fine piece of literature. But it’s funny too – often laugh out loud – as Lil mediates Lemuel’s pomposity, punctures his self-aggrandisement and sets him right on a few things.

Both actors are first-rate, actually; we are drawn into the horror of their disintegrating marriage, fearing for them even as we laugh at their antics. And there’s some innovative use of puppetry, the Houyhnhnm in particular a curious spectacle. The set – three bookcases and a stool – is remarkably effective, conveying oceans as well as living rooms, simultaneously vast and stifling.

The only thing that lets this down is the venue: there’s water dripping on the bare concrete stairs that lead up to Big Belly, and it stinks in there of damp and mould. But still, it’s worth steeling yourself and putting up with the fetid air for this quirky, fascinating play.

4.5 stars

Susan Singfield

A Substitute For Life

11/08/18

Assembly Hall, Edinburgh

A Substitute For Life is an intriguing monologue, written by Simon Brett and performed by Tim Hardy. It’s the story of Francis Kenworthy, a man who has largely abandoned life in order to subsume himself in his greatest passion: books. When we enter the venue, we find him already seated at his desk, surrounded by his beloved tomes. The lights dim and, by candlelight, he tells us his story – about his passion for the work of Wilkie Collins, about his harsh upbringing at the hands of an uncaring father and a cruel governess. He tells us about his brother, who received all the attention, the one who was destined to be the heir, while Francis was merely the ‘spare.’ But of course, time has a habit of correcting the best-laid plans of controlling fathers and this is no exception.

There’s the feel of a Victorian ghost story about this production, though it doesn’t feature any supernatural happenings, unless of course, you include Hardy’s performance, which is absolutely spellbinding. As Kenworthy’s tale unfolds, the audience are drawn closer into his confidence and, despite the fact that he is not the most pleasant of characters, given to the kind of prejudices that were so prevalent at the time, still we fully empathise with his situation – which makes the story’s conclusion all the more powerful – and it would be unfair of me to reveal anything more than that.

Directed by Alison Skilbeck (Hardy’s wife, whose Are There More of You? is showing in the same venue and with which this would make an excellent double bill), A Substitute For Life is an object lesson in how to deliver a monologue. It also leads me to remark on the way out, that it seems unfair to have so much talent in one family.

But talent there undoubtedly is, and you’ll find it in abundance at the Assembly Hall.

4.5 stars

Philip Caveney

Aye, Elvis

10/08/18

Gilded Balloon, Rose Theatre, Edinburgh

Joyce Falconer stars as Joanie in Morna Young’s engaging play. Joanie’s world is dreary and dull: she bickers daily with her housebound mum, and dreams of something more exciting than her supermarket checkout job. Singing karaoke at the local pub leads to an obsession with Elvis, and she sets herself up as a tribute act, drawn into the cameraderie of online chat groups dedicated to the King. Encouraged by Fat Bob, the pub landlord, she sets out on an ambitious project that is sure to change her life.

Aye, Elvis is a big hit with tonight’s (largely Scottish) audience, who are vocally appreciative throughout, joining in with the big numbers, clapping and laughing and generally enjoying what they see. It’s not hard to see why: this is entertaining, feelgood stuff: silly and poignant and hilarious throughout. Falconer clearly has a strong fan-base here; she has a twinkle in her eye, and seems to be relishing her time on this small stage. Karen Ramsey makes the most of some deliciously acerbic lines as Joanie’s crabby mum, and David McGowan’s Fat Bob is a charming, calming presence.

Dazzlingly costumed and played for laughs, this is a lot of fun, and definitely worth making a trip to see. It even gets a standing ovation from the crowd – the first we’ve seen at this year’s Fringe.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Velvet

10/08/18

Pleasance Courtyard (That), Edinburgh

Tom Ratcliffe’s Velvet is a fascinating piece, an I-can’t-bear-it-but-I-can’t-look-away depiction of a young actor’s downfall, as unscrupulous industry moguls prey on his vulnerability.

He plays Tom (the name is a nod to the fact that the play, which he has written, while not autobiographical, draws on his own experiences), a recent drama school graduate, ambitious and hopeful, determined to realise his dream. He is working, just not as much as he wants, and – like most actors – he has to take on temping jobs so that he can pay his bills. His banker boyfriend, Matthew, doesn’t really understand; he thinks Tom should pursue other career options, find something more stable, but Tom has a vocation and he needs to follow his star. His mum isn’t much better; she’s over-critical and unsupportive. Tom has no one to turn to when things start to unravel.

And unravel they do, pretty much from the start, when a casting director makes a pass and Tom refuses. It’s all terribly polite, but the ramifications are life-changing. The calls dry up. He’s desperate. And, of course, there are always vultures out there, ready to take advantage of despair.

This is a bravura performance, captivating and engrossing; I’m utterly beguiled. There is a disarming authenticity to the piece, which draws us deep into Tom’s world. It’s a clear example, too, of why the #MeToo movement matters: there are people with too much power, abusing their positions to control the powerless. Of course Tom makes foolish decisions; he doesn’t know what else to do. The establishment have closed ranks, barred him; he hasn’t danced to their tune and now he must be punished.

It’s painful to watch, and all too convincing. Ratcliffe performs with real openness, so that Tom’s humiliation makes us hurt with him, and I find myself blinking away tears. The play’s structure is interesting, a non-linear depiction of events, with simple light and sound effects jolting us in and out of key moments. I like the image of the casting couch too, the velvet chaise longue that remains onstage throughout, a permanent reminder of what this is about.

This is a triumph, actually – and deserves a bigger audience than the one we were part of today.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

The Basement Tapes

09/08/18

Summerhall, Edinburgh

Zanetti Productions’ The Basement Tapes is a startling piece of theatre, compelling and surprising, throbbing with energy. The site-specific environment of the creepily named ‘Former Women’s Locker Room’, deep in the bowels of the Summerhall building, all clanking radiator pipes and low ceilings, enhances the rising tension, and we find ourselves utterly enthralled.

Stella Reid plays a girl who, after her grandmother’s death, is tasked with clearing out her home. We’re with her in the cluttered basement, resonant with memories, boxes everywhere. The girl is part way through her onerous assignment: some of the boxes are open, their contents strewn around the room. She’s clearly bored, dancing as she works, pausing to order pizza, trying on her grandma’s coat. She grapples with unfamiliar technology: calling her mum via a landline, because there’s no mobile signal here; intrigued by an old tape recorder and a bag full of cassettes.

From hereon in, the story revolves around those cassettes, those titular basement tapes. The eerie, disembodied voice of her dead grandmother weaves its way into the tale, taking us (and the girl) on a strange journey, with macabre revelations that really make the spine tingle.

The atmosphere is fraught, crackling like the electricity that intermittently cuts out, leaving us in darkness as black as the secrets that have been set free. Stella Reid’s performance is powerful and riveting; I realise, as I leave, that I have been holding my breath.

An exciting, innovative production from this award-winning New Zealand company, the show is deservedly sold out for much of its run. If you can, get hold of a ticket now while there are still a few available.

4.5 stars

Susan Singfield