Theatre

Snap

08/08/17

Assembly Theatre, George Square

Let’s face it, it wouldn’t really be the Fringe without a bit of magic, would it? And it certainly wouldn’t be the Fringe without clowns. Korea-based company, Snap, have had the brilliant idea of splicing the two traditions together to create something unique: a delicious blend of traditional magic, slapstick and state-of-the-art lighting effects that really is enchanting in the truest sense of the word.

Three clowns lead us through a mysterious doorway that takes us to four totally different acts –  and they are each, in their own way, truly accomplished. There’s The Florist who does the most amazing sleight-of-hand card tricks; The Achemist, who does things with sand that you really won’t believe; The Oddball, a juggler (and if that sounds underwhelming, don’t be fooled) and finally, The Dreamer, who… well, words fail me. You’ll really need to see that one for yourself. Suffice to say that, unless you’re the grumpiest person on the planet, you’ll be as thrilled as we are.

It’s all performed to music so there are no language barriers to get through, the material is anodyne enough to make it suitable for family audiences, and it’s precision-planned down to the last detail. If you only see one magic act at this year’s Fringe, this may be the one to go for, especially if you have youngsters in tow.

Oh, by the way, that sound you keep hearing? It’s people gasping in disbelief. Enjoy.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

Catherine and Anita

07/08/17

Assembly Rooms, George Street, Edinburgh

With so many different Fringe spaces incorporating the words ‘Assembly’ and ‘George’ it’s important to make sure you’ve got the right one. Catherine and Anita is performed in – or rather outside – the imposing Assembly Rooms on George Street in the New Town – a good twenty-minute walk away from the Assembly venues on George Square. We live in Edinburgh so we’re not caught out by this, but the people sweating and panting in the queue behind us have had to run for it, and are only just in time for the show. So – be aware! Make sure you know exactly where you’re headed before you set off.

Anyway: to the show. Catherine and Anita is not the two-hander I’d assumed from the title, but a monologue, performed with absolute commitment by Sarah Roy as the eponymous Catherine. She is Catherine through-the-ages: an adult, a child, a married woman, a widow. It’s a strong performance, drawing out all the nuances of a difficult character, played with a stark intensity. The standout is the restaurant scene, where Catherine’s anxiety is funny and disturbing in equal measure.

This is a tricky piece to review without giving spoiler alerts; suffice to say, the opening scenes have an awkwardness to them that only makes sense once certain facts are revealed. I can see what playwright Derek Ahonen’s intention is here, but I don’t think it quite works. The childhood scene, for example, renders me unconvinced and, even though it’s later explained, it’s curiously alienating as it stands. The play hits its stride in the second half, once we know more, and have a greater understanding of Catherine and her behaviour  – and the hysteria is dialled down.

All in all, this is an interesting – if flawed – piece, with a powerful performance at its centre.

3 stars

Susan Singfield

Pike Street

07/08/17

Roundabout @ Summerhall, Edinburgh

Pike Street is an ingenious monologue, written and performed by Nilaja Sun, and staged in the marvellous Roundabout pop-up theatre. It’s set on New York’s Lower East Side in the heart of a vibrant Puerto Rican community where the residents are bracing themselves for the impending onslaught of a major hurricane.

We are introduced to a whole host of characters onstage – male and female, young and old – and Sun, in a performance that can only be described as a tour de force, plays every single one of them.

We meet Evelyn, a determinedly optimistic single mother who is tasked with the monumental challenge of caring for her brain-damaged teenage daughter, Candi, a child who cannot survive without constant life support. We meet Evelyn’s father, Pappy, a hard drinking macho widower, and we meet her decorated war veteran brother, Manny, home on leave from the navy and clearly damaged by his experiences in Afghanistan. We meet Mrs Applebaum, an elderly Jewish neighbour and, in passing, a whole bunch of other friends and acquaintances. It’s really quite uncanny to witness Sun flipping effortlessly back and forth from one character to the next with such utter conviction; we really feel we are there, amidst the crowd, waiting anxiously for the hurricane to hit.

This is exciting and incendiary theatre, that will have you laughing at one moment and filling up the next.

At the play’s conclusion, Sun is given a standing ovation and I’ve rarely seen one that was more deserved. Go and see this, if only to marvel at that extraordinary performance.

4.8 stars

Philip Caveney

Joanne Ryan: Eggsistentialism

07/08/17

Summerhall, Edinburgh

Eggsistentialism is an absolute gem of a show. Written and performed by Irish actor Joanne Ryan, it tells the very private story of a woman trying to decide whether or not she’d like to have a child. But it’s a lot more than that: it’s also a history of Ireland and its social, sexual history. Deftly constructed, so that it feels light and palatable even when it’s punching hard, this is a clever piece of work, which made me laugh out loud, but also brought me to tears.

Ryan is an extremely engaging performer, with wit and warmth enough to envelop her audience. There are animations too: this is a multi-media piece. But it never feels heavy-handed, or techy-for-the-sake-of-it, like such things sometimes do. The animations here are charming and quirky, and used to excellent effect, contextualising Ryan’s modern-day dilemma and adding layers of meaning to the fears she faces. Veronica Coburn’s direction is lovely too: there’s an ease and subtlety to the whole production, which makes it most enjoyable to watch.

This is a must-see: a deeply personal play with universal appeal. Don’t miss it.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

 

Murder She Didn’t Write

06/08/17

Pleasance Beyond

Improv comedy seems to be in the ascendent and judging by the huge crowd that’s packed into the Pleasance Beyond to watch Murder She Didn’t Write, the form has now hit peak popularity. Here, Bristol Improv Theatre apply the concept to the classic country house murder, incorporating an Agatha Christie style setting with elements of Cluedo, so that all six actors are colour-coded – Miss Violet, Mrs Gold, etc – presumably to make it easier for us to follow the proceedings.

A resident sleuth invites members of the audience to supply some of the elements the cast must base their story around (today for example, a three-legged race figures quite prominently) and the six strong cast create their show around these suggestions.

It’s early in the run and there’s the distinct feeling that things haven’t quite bedded in yet. There are some sporadically amusing elements here but to be honest, the improvisations we’re given aren’t really on a par with some of the discipline’s best exponents and as the play moves fitfully towards it’s conclusion – the unmasking of the murderer – I can’t help feeling this needs to be a whole lot punchier than it currently is. And actually, once we, the audience, have made our initial suggestions, there really isn’t much else for us to do except sit back and watch. (It doesn’t help that one member of the cast keeps corpsing in response to things that don’t actually seem all that funny). At any rate, for this to work properly, it needs to make the audience feel a little more involved. As it stands, it delivers rather less than it promises.

Still, most members of the audience seem to enjoy it and leave with happy smiles on their faces. Maybe you should go and check it out for yourselves – after all, one person’s lead piping is the next person’s candelabra. 

3 stars

Philip Caveney

The Man on the Moor

06/08/17

Underbelly Cowgate, Edinburgh

The Man on the Moor is a monologue, written and performed by Max Dickins. And it’s really very good indeed. Inspired by the true story of an unidentified body found on Saddleworth Moor in 2015, it examines the idea of what it means to ‘go missing’ – and the impact a disappearance has on those who are left behind.

Dickins plays a man whose life has been profoundly affected by his father’s disappearance more than twenty years ago. He sees his father everywhere and, when he reads in the news about the body, he becomes absolutely convinced that the mystery body on the moor is, in fact, his dad. This belief quickly builds into an obsession.

It’s beautifully written – every word carefully weighted, the rhythm perfectly honed. And it’s performed well too: Dickins’ acting is at once compelling and understated. It’s a serious subject, emotionally charged. There are teary moments, and there is dread. But there is also humour, a mix of light and shade to leaven the atmosphere. The piece is nicely judged, and holds the audience’s attention throughout, no mean feat considering the unholy racket bleeding in from the corridor outside.

It’s sobering to be told that someone goes missing in Britain every eight minutes – and that every year, two thousand people disappear and never return. Shows such as this demonstrate the important role theatre can play in illuminating the pain and heartache of dealing with such loss, and maybe go some way towards encouraging people to actually try to make a difference, not least by raising awareness and collecting money for The Missing People charity (missingpeople.org.uk). A worthwhile project, and an engaging production.

4.7 stars

Susan Singfield

 

Butt Kapinski

 

03/08/17

Pleasance Dome, Edinburgh

Butt Kapinski is a strange man. Called upon to investigate a series of murders, he embodies every  cliché of film noir: he stands beneath his portable streetlamp, pulls his trenchcoat around him, mimes an obligatory cigar – before regaling us with tales of life as an NY PI. The brainchild and alter-ego of American performer Deanna Fleysher, he is an oddly engaging creation, and the audience joins in willingly with this funny, interactive show.

Okay, so maybe it doesn’t dig as deeply as it could – several thought-provoking ideas are introduced and then left hanging – and the narrative, such as it is, could do with a more convincing pay-off. But it’s gutsy and it’s fun, and Fleysher works wonders with what the audience gives her. The character-exaggeration is pushed to extremes (those vocal contortions!) and has us laughing all the time. I can’t say more here without giving too much away, but this is a fascinating and unusual performance, well worth catching if you can. And don’t worry about being ‘picked on’ – the audience participation here is entirely voluntary, and Fleysher has perfected the skill of homing in on those who want to get involved.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

 

The Toxic Avenger: The Musical

03/08/17

Pleasance One, Edinburgh

Lloyd Kaufman’s 1984 movie, The Toxic Avenger has long been held in high esteem by cult movie fans – one of those ‘so bad it’s good’ guilty pleasures, it spawned several sequels and made the transition to musical in 2008. Prior to a new London run, it’s arrived at the Edinburgh Festival, where its riotous blend of rock music, camp silliness and hilarious bad taste make it a perfect fit for fun-seeking audiences.

The town of Tromaville is being overrun by pollution and its citizens are crying out for a hero to come and save them. The nerdy Melvin Ferd (Mark Anderson), longs to be that hero, if only to impress the love of his life, Sarah (Emma Salvo), a blind librarian. But when he gets tossed into a vat of nuclear waste by a couple of thugs, he emerges transformed into the world’s first toxic superhero, taking on the town’s corrupt mayor (Natalie Hope) and her two  evil henchmen, Oscar Conlon-Morrey and Che Francis. OK, so he’s prone to tearing the odd innocent person apart limb-from-limb, but hey, nobody’s perfect, right?

A musical in the same vein that made Little Shop of Horrors such a pleasure, The Toxic Avenger is an unqualified delight, romping happily along powered by its own exuberance and the efforts of a stellar cast, who give this everything they’ve got and then some. Salvo is possessed of a voice so powerful that it occasionally threatens to blow the roof off the Pleasance, while Hope performs an exhausting sequence where two characters do battle with other (she’s playing both roles), that must set some kind of record for lightning-fast costume changes.

You don’t need to be familiar with the original film to enjoy what’s on offer here. Indeed, if you’re looking for a night of galumphing, undemanding entertainment this is definitely worth seeking out.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

Cathy

02/08/17

Pleasance Dome, Venue 23

Ken Loach’s influential Wednesday Play, Cathy Come Home, first saw the light of day in November 1966 and made a powerful impact on the public consciousness. In 2016, his searing film, I, Daniel Blake demonstrated that over the intervening fifty years, very little has changed when it comes to society’s callous treatment of the dispossessed. This production by Cardboard Citizen is very much a homage to Loach and his worldview (at one point it even features a recording of the director speaking about his concerns). It’s a  new play by Ali Taylor, based upon real-life testimonies, showing all too clearly how people’s lives can so easily be affected by the spectre of homelessness – how they can slip through the cracks in the care system to find themselves abandoned and in desperate straits.

Cathy (Cathy Owen) is one such person, a single parent struggling to care for her fifteen-year-old daughter, Danielle (Hayley Wareham). Cathy holds down several zero-hours-contract cleaning jobs and tries her best to look after her dementia-afflicted father, who now lives in a care home. When she falls behind on her rent payments, she finds herself unceremoniously shunted into ‘temporary’ accommodation in Luton, far from the area where she’s lived all her life. Danielle, currently studying for her impending exams, finds it hard to deal with the ensuing rootlessness and, when the possibility of a permanent home appears tantalisingly on the horizon, mother and daughter are momentarily cheered – until they find it will involve a move to Gateshead.

This is a bleak and affecting drama, featuring superb performances from a four-strong cast. While Owen and Wareham stay within their roles throughout, all others parts are taken on by Amy Loughton and Alex Jones, who slip so effortlessly from character to character, I sometimes have the impression that there are actually more than four actors involved in this. The set is minimal, built mostly around a stack of wooden blocks onto which images are projected during the scene changes. If I have a minor criticism, it’s that there may be a little too much time spent dragging the blocks around to create beds, tables and the like – better, I think to trust the audience to know where events are taking place – though the scene where a frustrated Danielle sends the blocks tumbling is undoubtedly a powerful moment. While it may not be the show you’ll seek out to lift your spirits, it’s nonetheless a powerful polemic that tells a really important story – one that occasionally has me on the verge of tears. We don’t usually review previews but this has already been touring solidly for three months before Edinburgh and, after checking with director, Adrian Jackson, I’m happy to make an exception for this.

After the performance, Jackson leads a brief discussion about the problems of homelessness in our society. The overall feeling from the audience is one of helplessness. What can we do to improve this terrible situation? Well, a good way to start would be to go and see this heartrending production. Though it may not claim to have any answers, it certainly asks all the right questions.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

Whist

22/07/17

Festival Theatre, Edinburgh

It’s a rainy morning in Edinburgh, the perfect time to seek escape from reality. Upstairs in the bar at the Festival theatre may seem an unlikely location for such an escape, but it’s soon to be transformed into a landscape of the imagination, courtesy of dance company AOE and some nifty virtual reality headsets. Helpers are on hand to show us initially around what looks like a random selection of rather unprepossessing objects; we are told that, when these shapes are looked at through our headsets, they will unlock a series of sequences inspired by the work of psychoanalyst Sigmund Freud.

So, we allow ourselves to be fitted out with said headsets and we regard the first object we come to and… wow, this actually works! All of a sudden, I am standing mid-air in the centre of a dilapidated room, a room I can see in perfect detail, whichever way I choose to look. I can’t help but notice a rather ominous wooden chest in the corner and, as I watch (rather nervously, it has to be said), a woman emerges from the box and starts to chalk obscure symbols all over the wooden floor…

It’s hard to fully describe the impact of these ‘visions’. There’s a kind of voyeuristic pleasure in observing the various characters that wander in and out of the (seemingly unconnected) sequences and, often, a startling moment when they look directly at me and I become convinced that they know I am here, that they can see me watching them. The scenes range from the creepy to the baffling to the vaguely erotic. In my favourite sequence, I’m standing on a dinner table, my feet resting on a plate of bloody hearts. Around me, three diners are tucking in to the raw meat, drinking wine and shooting me challenging looks. I feel obliged to keep spinning around to make sure I take in all of their reactions. One of them looks a bit handy with a steak knife and I get the distinct impression they don’t much like me standing in the middle of their dinner…

There’s no through-storyline here. Each individual scenario is something that could have evolved from a dream or, more accurately, a nightmare. Birth seems to be a recurring theme and also, the subjugation of women. There’s a moment when I really want to step in to help somebody who is being manhandled, but I can’t, because I’m not actually there even though it feels like I am – and then there’s a moment when I suddenly find myself drifting alone through the cosmos and I nearly cry out with the wonder of it. I look down and it feels like I could fall forever…

The experience lasts an hour (which is probably just about the right duration) and I have to say, it’s pretty intense. For a while after it’s over, I have the conviction that the real word I’ve returned to is pretty damned strange (particularly when I spot Jarvis Cocker standing on the other side of the road) but that feeling soon passes. After all this is Edinburgh and the festival is fast approaching. Why shouldn’t Jarvis Cocker be around? Whist feels decidedly like it should be part of the festival, but it’s here right now and it’s one of the strangest, most immersive experiences I’ve ever had.

I urge everyone who can to pop along to the Festival Theatre and give it a try. It’s there until early August. There’s a limit of twenty participants per show, so get those tickets booked and dive right in. You’ll be intrigued, delighted, maybe even a little bit freaked… but I’m pretty sure you won’t be bored, not for a moment.

5 stars

Philip Caveney