Theatre

Blank Tiles

11/08/17

Assembly George Square, Edinburgh

Some shows grab hold of you instantly – others take a little time to establish themselves. Blank Tiles is definitely a slow burn affair. At first I find myself thinking, ‘Who is this guy? Why is he so repetitive? And why does he keep recording every little utterance he makes?’ And then it begins to dawn on me just where writer/performer Dylan Cole is going with this… and the story becomes more affecting, more tragic, and ultimately heartbreaking.

Austin Michaels is a World Scrabble champion, a man who has memorised over 200,000 words in order to win his world title. As he recounts his story, he constantly refers to a large scrabble board on an easel beside him, using various combinations of the same letters to spell out key points in his life story. But Austin is gradually falling prey to a terrible condition, one that will ultimately rob him of the most important thing in his life – his ability to remember.

This is a powerful monologue, nicely performed by Cole (who, it turns out, is Australian, though you’d never guess it from his Northern Brit accent) and it holds the audience enraptured until its tragic conclusion. Amidst a whole plethora of one-person shows at this year’s Fringe, it’s definitely one you shouldn’t miss. And don’t worry, you don’t have to be a Scrabble aficionado to appreciate this compelling story.

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney

The Power Behind the Crone

11/07/17

Assembly George Square, Edinburgh

The Power Behind the Crone is a wonderful piece of theatre, an exemplar of a Fringe show: perfectly suited to its space and time-slot, beautifully scripted, and acted with precision and panache. In case I haven’t made myself clear: I liked it. A lot.

Alison Skilbeck plays Professor Artemis Turret, a Shakespearean scholar, delivering a lecture to a group of mature students (that’s us). The topic is a refutation of the dictum,’There are no good parts in Shakespeare for older women’ and the big draw is Artemis’s old friend, Dame Bunti Smart, an internationally acclaimed actress, who is supposed to be performing the illustrative speeches. But, not for the first time it seems, Bunti lets Artemis down, and the Professor is forced to play the parts herself. Reluctant at first, she throws herself into the performances, unearthing her own talent in the process.

Skilbeck’s delivery is flawless. From the Grenfell-like humour of the Professor to the pride of Paulina, from the bitterness of Queen Margaret to the bawdiness of Mistress Quickly, Skilbeck has absolute control of the material and creates distinct, believable characters. It’s fascinating: the fictional lecture serves the same function as an actual lecture, albeit the most engaging one I’ve ever sat through. I’m learning as I watch; plays I know well are re-positioned, the older women highlighted.

It’s genuinely illuminating.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

 

Deadpan Theatre: Third Wheel

10/08/17

Gilded Balloon Teviot, Edinburgh

Deadpan Theatre’s Third Wheel  is a sparky, original play, with charming performances at its core. Jude Mack and Eliot Salt are Eve and Polly, ex-besties and wannabe lovers, who are reunited after the death of their mutual friend, Dylan (Harry Trevaldwyn). Dylan’s cancer may have killed him, but it hasn’t stopped him trying to heal the rift between these two young women: in a video will, he instructs them to take his ashes on a road trip around the UK. How can they refuse? They can’t. So, reluctant and grumpy, the pair embark on a journey to rediscover the love they feel for each other.

This is a very theatrical piece: there are lifts and balances à la Frantic Assembly; overlapping speech à la Caryl Churchill (I can almost see the ‘interruption slashes’ in the script); an on-stage band that acts as a chorus, commenting on and informing the action. It’s very technique-y, but it doesn’t feel overdone: it’s fun and light; this young company are clearly having fun, enjoying playing with the form.

If there’s a false note, it’s maybe the montages. I like the idea of these, and they work in conveying a sense of distance travelled, time passed. But the animated car/map needs to be a little more thought-out: as a visual clue, it’s disorientating because it bears no resemblance to where we’re meant to be. At the end of one section, for example, there’s a close up of Manchester on screen. And then the characters start talking, and I’m confused, because it seems that they’re in London. While I’m making the leap, I must miss a line or two, because they’re at a train station and I don’t know why (a minute ago they were in a car).

But overall, this is a delightful piece. I love the way the ultra-naturalistic dialogue and speech patterns contrast with the more stylised stuff. The music is a welcome addition, and it’s a funny, quirky story that engages me throughout. The acting is spot-on, the characters nuanced and believable. Okay, so it’s a bit rough around the edges, and not as polished as it might be, but that doesn’t stop it being a little gem. I like it, and I’ll definitely be keeping an eye out for Deadpan Theatre’s future projects.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

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