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Dear Annie, I Hate You

14/08/24

Zoo Playground 2, Edinburgh

When we enter the performance space, we can hardly fail to notice Sam Ipema, lying stretched out on a podium, seemingly fast asleep. She’s surrounded by a series of miniature television screens, upon which random images from her childhood are playing, as if granting us access to her dreams. 

But then she wakes up and starts to tell us her life story, all about a young girl who grows up with her parents. They are present, providing comments from the TV screens. We also hear from her adopted brother who has Downs Syndrome and is very fond of Batman. As Sam grows older, she becomes obsessed with soccer and seizes every opportunity to practice the sport, thinking that perhaps one day she’ll be a star player…

And then Sam’s narrative is rudely interrupted by the arrival of ‘Annie’ (Eleanor House), a bright buzzy young woman clad in a glitzy pink outfit. She’s playing a tuneless rendition of Also Sprach Zarathustra – on a trombone – and she seems intent on wrecking everything that Sam has so carefully set up.

But ‘Annie’ is just the name that Sam has given to her aneurism – the one she discovered years back, quite by accident, the one that she endured surgery on, but which still hides deep within her brain and could prove fatal at any moment…

Dear Annie, I Hate You is a wonderfully inventive and cleverly-assembled slice of true experience, by turns funny, profound and – at one particular point – very challenging. Those of a delicate disposition should note that this show offers the opportunity to literally look inside Ipema’s brain (via a screen, obviously), but I want to stress that those too squeamish to watch it are given ample opportunity to either close their eyes or leave the room until that part is over. I choose to stay and am riveted by what I see.

The performance space at Zoo Playground I is quite compact and I’ve rarely seen such a modest stage used to such great effect. Hats off to director James Meteyard, who manages to have Ipema and House moving through the clutter with ease, interacting, arguing, fighting – even playing a game of table tennis. The simple but utterly practical props work a treat, light cables pulsing and flashing to accentuate the action, and there’s one bit of business – which I won’t spoil – that actually makes me gasp out loud.

Ipema is a confident and relaxed narrator, while House proves the perfect foil, her polar opposite. Watching the two of them interact is both entertaining and affecting.

More than anything else, I’m impressed by Ipema’s courage, the way that she has met the daunting experience of an aneurism full on, turning it into one of the most thought-provoking shows I have seen at this year’s Fringe.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Síomha Hennessy: 30 Under 30

06/08/24

Gilded Balloon Patter Hoose (Nip), Edinburgh

Síomha (it’s pronounced Shiva) is 35 years old and somehow, against all her expectations, she’s still ‘unexpectedly unfamous.’ She’s bewildered by this and, to be honest, I’m as mystified as she is. From the moment she prowls confidently into the room and launches into her first song, she has the crowd at the Patter Hoose in her tenacious grip. That opening pop song is terrific, wonderfully catchy and with lyrics that make you laugh out loud. It’s an impressive start.

The ensuing patter is just as perfectly crafted: canny observations about growing up in Ireland, her disastrous relationships, the minefield of social media and some outrageously outspoken views about sexuality. A ‘folk’ song from the POV of her contraceptive coil is wonderfully surreal. Presented in the style of Luke Kelly of The Dubliners, it’s an absolute hoot, the premise being that – at 200 euros – the device isn’t earning back its investment.

And then, just when you think you’ve got the measure of Hennessy’s schtick, she delivers a soulful ballad about Instagram, which shows off her soaring vocal range to the full.

The hour positively flies by until a final song – which has the entire room happily singing along with the chorus – brings the show to its conclusion. We missed Hennessy at last year’s Fringe but I’m glad we caught her act this time. She’s definitely one to watch and, on this evidence, she won’t remain ‘unfamous’ for very much longer.

4.8 stars

Philip Caveney

Chris Dugdale: 11

05/08/24

The Ballroom, Assembly, Edinburgh

At the Fringe, we spend most of our time seeking out new performers whose work we’ve never encountered before. But there are a few honourable exceptions. Back in 2015, as fledgling reviewers at the Festival, we happened upon Chris Dugdale: Sleightly Dishonest and were blown away by it. We weren’t magic fans per se (still aren’t really) but something about the man’s delivery, his brain-scrambling routines, his cheeky persona, chimed with us and we’ve seen him pretty much every year since – apart from when the dreaded COVID cancelled the whole Festival in one fell swoop.

But here he is again with 11 (remember that number), another meticulously arranged head-spinner that is mostly about coincidences – or at least apparent coincidences. One section deals with the attack on the World Trade Centre and the importance of that title is suddenly made clear. 

Dugdale is in a bigger theatre than usual and his wife and two young daughters are sitting in the audience (the latter putting their hands up when he asks for volunteers and having to be politely refused). As ever, we find ourselves laughing at the sheer unbelievability of some of the things we’re witness to, especially the examples of close-up magic, where a video camera is focused on the illusionist’s hands as he does a whole series of impossible things with a pack of cards. There are also some examples of mind control that have us shaking our heads in disbelief – and I may be guilty of muttering the odd expletive.

Oh and did I mention Dugdale’s poster collection? There’s a whole wall of them to stage left, a series of seemingly unconnected images…

As ever with these shows, I can’t give too much away because the best approach to Dugdale’s material is to go in with an open mind and prepare to have it opened a good deal more. But I will say that this is the best show we’ve seen from him and, trust me, it’s a very high bar. Those who like the sound of this should make a beeline for The Ballroom in the Assembly Rooms on George Street, where Mr Dugdale is doing unbelievable things every night.

Walking home afterwards, Susan randomly asks me what time it is. I glance at my watch and can’t help gasping. The numbers on the digital display are 9:11.

Another coincidence? Or is that noise I hear the distant sound of Chris Dugdale chuckling maniacally?

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Really Good Exposure

03/08/24

Underbelly (Belly Button), Cowgate, Edinburgh

Actor Megan Prescott – most famous for her role in Skins – opens up a compelling discourse in this excoriating monologue about how sex sells and is sold. Drawn from a mixture of her own experiences and those she’s observed, Really Good Exposure is a challenging and thought-provoking play – fittingly funded by Prescott’s OnlyFans.

Molly Thomas (Prescott) is fast approaching thirty. A former child star, she’s been encouraged to sell sex throughout her acting career, notably as an adolescent in popular TV drama, Meat. But now she’s no longer a teenager, and it turns out selling sex on her own terms – as a stripper or in porn – is way less socially acceptable than being controlled by ‘the industry’. 

Prescott is an accomplished performer. She tantalises and reels us in before skewering our internal biases and forcing us to think. For most of the running time, she is clad only in a sparkling bikini. This is disturbing in the flashbacks – when she’s eleven years old, practising her competition dance, or sixteen, worried about her first intimate scene for Meat – but empowering when she’s older and finally operating on her own terms. 

As a Gen X feminist, I’m forced to confront my own prejudices. I’ve never been one to demonise sex workers – I believe in a sisterhood that supports all women. But I’ve certainly been guilty of seeing sex workers as victims or as unwitting conduits for misogynist violence. Prescott’s polemic reveals the glaring holes in this logic. Her own experience is that she has more agency and makes more money in porn than she ever did in the mainstream. This is perfectly illustrated by the juxtaposition of two scenes: one featuring full-frontal nudity, where Molly is forced to strip naked to prove she really wants a part in an indie film; the other an exuberant lap dance performed in a strip club. 

As Molly points out, of course there are issues within the porn industry but, “We didn’t ban acting after #MeToo.” 

A fascinating insight into what it costs to be a woman in the spotlight, Really Good Exposure is a must-see at this year’s Fringe.

4.7 stars

Susan Singfield

Bellringers

03/08/24

Roundabout at Summerhall, Edinburgh

Two figures, hooded and shrouded, stumble in out of the torrential rain and prepare themselves for a spot of campanology. But who are they? My first intimation is that they are monks and this piece must be set back in the day, but the cloaks are quickly removed and the two men are revealed to be contemporary characters – yet the world they discuss is bewildering. What’s all this talk of raining frogs? Death by lightning? And why are mushrooms growing everywhere?

Aspinall (Paul Adeyefa) and Clement (Luke Rollason) are the latest in a line of bellringers, who come here in the belief that ringing the church bells might somehow dispel the devastating storm they know is fast approaching. There have been other bellringers before them but it’s a worryingly short-lived profession. Best not to talk too much about what happened to their predecessors. Neither of them are religious – not really – but they have to do something don’t they? And a respected friend claims that this is the only surefire way to avert disaster.

As the two men count the intervals between lightning strikes and thunderbolts, which grow worryingly shorter, they talk about this baffling world in which they’re trying to survive – this doomed place of dying crops and terrible famines and weather conditions that seem to be spinning out of control…

It doesn’t take a Sherlock Holmes to interpret this particular allegory, but the power of Bellringers is in the uncanny way in which information is slowly but surely released, so that things only fully coalesce in the play’s final stretches. Both Adeyefa and Rollason play their roles with consummate skill, the former calm and measured, the latter nervy and intense, tortured by a secret he’s been keeping for over a year. Daisy Hall’s acerbic script is at once funny and terrifying, highlighting the futility of a world that puts its faith in superstition and crossed fingers. In the end, all the two men have ever wanted is “what they had – an ordinary life. And long.” A damning reference the world that we are all in the process of bequeathing to generations yet to come.

Little wonder that this debut play was a finalist for The Women’s Prize 2023. Under Jessica Lazar’s assured direction this is another winner from Roundabout, one that will send you out of that unique location with a lot to think about.

4.5 stars

Philip Caveney

Thelma

23/07/24

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Hollywood rarely manages to find projects for older female actors so it’s heartening to witness seasoned veteran June Squibb taking on her first lead role at the tender age of ninety-four. This kind of project can often be unbearably cute, an opportunity to smile condescendingly at the funny things old ladies tend to say, but Sundance hit Thelma, written and directed by Josh Margolin, is perfectly pitched and utterly charming, managing to exploit the tropes of a Mission Impossible style caper while never stepping beyond the realms of credulity. No mean feat.

Thelma is slowly coming to terms with the death of her beloved husband two years earlier and, with the help of her grandson, the hapless but loveable Daniel (Fred Hechinger), she’s managing to adjust to the changing and sometimes bewildering world in which she lives. When, out of the blue, she gets a call from ‘Daniel’ telling her that he is in trouble and needs her to send $10,000 dollars in cash to a PO box, she doesn’t hesitate to follow the instructions she is given, never pausing to question the situation. Of course, she’s been scammed. Her daughter, Gail (Parker Posey), and son in law, Alan (Clark Gregg), begin to wonder if its time to for Thelma to go into a home. Meanwhile the police tell the family that there’s nothing much they can do to help retrieve those lost funds.

But, inspired by the Tom Cruise movies that Thelma enjoys so much, she decides that she’s not ready to give up so easily. She enlists the help of her old friend Ben (Richard Roundtree, in his final role), who is now in a retirement home and is the proud owner of a state-of-the-art mobility scooter. Backed by Nick Chuba’s propulsive score, the duo head off into the night to stake out the PO box in the hope of finding the scammer that did Thelma wrong.

One other thing. They’re going to need a gun…

Thelma is a hoot, weaving expertly between laugh-out-loud jokes and nail-biting suspense. While our aged protagonists can hardly take on the kind of stunts that are the staple of a Tom Cruise movie, their scaled-down antics prove to be just as exciting. For a nonagenarian, even climbing an unfamiliar staircase is a potentially dangerous challenge, and a chase in a motorised mobility aid can be a heart stopper.

It’s not just thrills and spills. The film has plenty to say about the importance of friendship and the indignities of old age: a reminder that we shouldn’t write people off because of their advanced years. It also features the most unlikely performance of Little Orphan Annie you’re ever likely to witness. Squibb is terrific and the late Richard Roundtree – best remembered as the titular hero of 1971’s Shaft – has chanced upon the perfect farewell for his long career. Watch out for the villain of the piece too. It might take you a few moments to recognise him, but that really is Malcolm McDowell! And don’t get up from your seat too quickly because you’ll miss a brief cameo from the woman who inspired the film: Josh Margolin’s grandma, still going strong at 103!

Thelma hasn’t had the widest of releases but keep an eye open for it at your local cinema. It’s an absolute joy.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Nye: National Theatre Live

27/04/24

Cameo Cinema, Edinburgh

National Theatre Live has chosen a propitious subject for its hundredth project. 

Nye, written by Tim Price and directed by Rufus Norris, is the story of Aneurin ‘Nye’ Bevan, the Labour MP who conceived and delivered the National Health Service. I’m somewhat embarrassed to admit that beyond that one incredible achievement, I have no other knowledge of the man’s life, so this feels like the perfect time to find out more about him.

When we first encounter Nye (Michael Sheen), he’s a patient in one of the National Health hospitals he built. Accompanied by his ever-protective wife, Jennie (Sharon Small), and his best friend, Archie (Roger Evans), Nye has just undergone a routine operation for a stomach ulcer but it turns out there’s something much more serious causing the awful pains in his gut. Zonked out on drugs and hallucinating, his hospital bed takes on a magic carpet-like ability to whisk him back down the years to revisit key scenes in his life.

Vicki Mortimer’s ingenious set design is mostly achieved using curtains. They sweep from side to side, they descend from on high and sometimes they even rise magisterially from the floor, to alternatively create new spaces and reveal hidden depths within the Olivier’s expansive stage. Though Sheen remains dressed in his striped pyjamas throughout, there’s never any doubt as to where (and when) a particular memory is located. 

We see Nye in childhood, afflicted by a stutter and brutalised by a sadistic teacher, but uniting his classmates in a show of defiance. We see him and Archie as older children, discovering the wonders of a library where… unbelievably…books can be borrowed and read – for free! And we see an older Nye, a fledgling politician now, arguing with his sister, Arianwen (Kezrena James), over the care of their father, David (Rhodri Meiler), a former miner succumbing to a slow and horrible death from black lung.

Later, Nye crosses swords with a bombastic Winston Churchill (Tony Jayawardena), who is violently opposed to handing out free health care to the oiks. Then, under a new Labour government, he accepts an offer from Clement Attlee (Stephanie Jacob, silently gliding around the stage behind a desk like a Doctor Who villain) to become Minister for Health – and Housing.

If certain elements of Nye’s life have been simplified for dramatic purposes (his huge collection of siblings is whittled down to a single sister, for instance), it matters little. The central premise of this story is so huge that it can’t be overburdened with detail.

Sheen is terrific in the central role, giving Nye an understated and strangely vulnerable charm. Small is also marvellous as the firebrand, Jennie Lee – so good in fact that she should perhaps be given a little more to do, but that’s only a niggle. A sprightly rendition of Get Happy with Sheen singing and dancing his way around a busy hospital ward conveys Nye’s playful, engaging nature.

I love Jon Driscoll’s projection design, which utilises cinematic techniques. A key scene, depicting the death toll on the UK population after the end of the war, features hordes of monochromatic figures shambling helplessly towards the camera, only to morph into actual actors, appearing as if by magic, pleading for our help. Another sequence has Nye being scrutinised by the medical profession, scores of masked faces staring blankly at him across an abyss of prejudice. Who is this upstart who wants to change everything?

The play’s climax is almost unbearably poignant and I’m left sitting in the semi-darkness, tears in my eyes, marvelling at the sheer scale of one man’s glorious ambition. It seems particularly significant that. as I write this, a Tory government (which has spent so much time and effort trying to dismantle Aneurin Bevan’s wonderful achievement) looks set to be finally given its marching orders. Please let that happen!

Nye will doubtless be given other screenings soon, so keep an eye out for more opportunities if you missed it this time around. This is National Theatre Live at its most creative and enjoyable.

4.7 stars

Philip Caveney

Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire

23/03/24

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Back in 2021, Ghostbusters: Afterlife felt like a sizeable step in the right direction. Director Jason Reitman (son of Ivan Reitman, who created the original Ghostbusters) had somehow managed to pull off an effective reboot, introducing a new cast of players and putting two of the youngest members at the helm. This sequel, written and directed by Gil Kenan, wants to have its cake and eat it, employing the new cohort, and bringing in some fresh faces, whilst handing large dollops of screen time to the veteran cast from the first two films. The inevitable result is that Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire feels overstuffed as too many characters slug it out to get their stories across.

There’s a creepy prologue set back in 1904 and then we’re brought bang up-to-date as we join the Spengler family – Phoebe (McKenna Grace), Trevor (Finn Wolfhard), their mum, Callie (Carrie Coon), and ‘step-teacher’ Gary Grooberson (Paul Rudd) as they pursue the Hell’s Kitchen Sewer Dragon through the streets of New York. The Spenglers now operate from the iconic fire station where the franchise began, but the team have been so industrious that they are in serious danger of running out of storage space for ghouls. Then Phoebe (who is only 15) is banned from working with the team by old adversary, Mayor Peck (William Atherton) and has to watch in frustration as the others head off on their ghost-busting duties without her.

Things take a sinister turn when new arrival, Nadeem (Kumail Nanjiani), wanders into the second-hand shop run by Ray Stantz (Dan Akroyd) and sells him a mysterious sphere which used to belong to his late Grandma. It turns out that said sphere is cursed and is the key to releasing an evil spirit called Garakka, who has laid dormant for thousands of years – and is capable of unleashing a second ice age that will turn the world into a frozen wasteland…

This plot-line seems to belong more in the realms of cosmic horror than fun-filled family entertainment. It feels unnecessarily complex and convoluted – and I’m disappointed to report that some of the main characters from Afterlife – Trevor (Wolfhard), Podcast (Logan Kim) and Lucky (Celeste O’ Connor) – have hardly anything to do here other than draw breath. Meanwhile, every actor who enjoyed as much as a walk-on part in the first film is afforded the opportunity to return and strut their respective stuff.

Comedian James Acaster as scientist Dr Lars Pinfield shows some promise as an actor but Nanjiani gets the few funny lines on offer. A promising link-up between Phoebe and teenage ghost, Melody (Emily Alyn Lind), really doesn’t have enough space to fully develop. Time and again, we find ourselves back with the original cast, who really don’t have a valid reason to be there. Bill Murray as Peter Venkman and Ernie Hudson as Dr Winston Zeddermore look like they’re acting in their sleep and, in one scene during the climactic punch up with Garakka, I count thirteen characters, which significantly dilutes the impact.

Most damning of all is the fact that long stretches of the film are just plain dull, spending far too long on exposition, striving to tell us things rather than show them.

This is a shame, because Afterlife rescued a tired formula and gave it the kiss of life. Frozen Empire makes me suspect that this franchise has now flatlined.

2.8 stars

Philip Caveney

Starving

12/03/24

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

It’s December, 1972 and Scottish independence campaigner and all-round firebrand, Wendy Wood (Isabella Jarrett) is preparing to enter the fifth day of her hunger strike. She’s seventy-eight years old and this is just the latest in a long string of adventures.

It’s also December 2024 and, at the age of thirty, copywriter Freya (Madeline Grieve) is stuck in her Edinburgh flat, crippled by insecurity and afraid to venture out into the world she finds so overwhelming. She too hasn’t eaten for a while – but her hunger has more existential beginnings.

Somehow the two women find themselves occupying the same time and space. Which is all fine and dandy, until Freya checks out her companion on Wikipedia and discovers that A. She’s famous and B. She died in 1981.

Imogen Stirling’s sprightly debut play (we previously saw her performing in the fabulous Love the Sinner) flings these disparate characters together and explores what makes them so different. At the same time, it uncovers the qualities that they have in common. Director Eve Nicol has the good sense to keep the proceedings all stripped back, just a bright banner and a couple of microphones for those moments when the women need to vent their feelings – which they both do, volubly and admirably.

Jarrett is quite awesome as Wendy, staunch, bold and ever resistant to the idea of being told ‘no!’ (After the show, I also look Wood up on Wikipedia, and it’s quite the eye-opener). As Freya, Grieve handles her more nuanced character with absolute assurance. I find myself alternately amused and amazed by the breadth of the material covered here, and there’s plenty to make me think about the various political issues that are touched on. I also love the play’s exuberant conclusion, the two protagonists joining together in a rousing rap about the need for freedom.

Once again, A Play, A Pie and A Pint have come up with a production designed to brighten your afternoon. Don’t miss your chance to share it.

4.5 stars

Philip Caveney

Origin

10/03/24

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Origin isn’t like any film I’ve seen before. Structurally, it’s akin to a dramatised lecture – but if that sounds dry, then I’m doing it a huge disservice. Writer/director Ava DuVernay has taken an academic text and created an artist’s impression of both the work and its author. The result is multi-layered: at once instructive and provocative – and absolutely riveting.

Based on Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents by Isabel Wilkerson (played here by Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor), Origin isn’t an easy watch. Wilkerson’s central conceit is that all oppression is linked – that the Holocaust, US slavery and India’s caste system all stem from the same fundamental practice of labelling one group of people ‘inferior’. This perception is entrenched via eight ‘pillars’, including endogamy, dehumanisation and heritability. DuVernay has done a sterling job of distilling these complex ideas and making them accessible, but the volume of cruelty on display is devastating. Who are we? Why do we keep on letting this happen? Some scenes are particularly heartbreaking, for example the young Al Bright (Lennox Simms)’s humiliating experience at a swimming pool in 1951, and I can hardly bear to mention the visceral horror of seeing people crammed into slave ships.

Ellis-Taylor’s Wilkerson is very engaging. She’s not only fiercely intelligent, but also thoughtful and gentle. Despite the weighty topics that dominate her working life, she finds time to have fun with her husband, Brett (Jon Bernthal), and to look after her mum, Ruby (Emily Yancy). She feels real.

Wilkerson’s personal life anchors the movie, which begins with her looking at retirement homes with Ruby. We see how Trayvon Martin (Myles Frost)’s shooting sows the first seed of her thesis, and then we jump back and forth in time and place, bearing witness to Nazi book burnings and Bhimrao Ambedkar’s ‘untouchable’ status; to Elizabeth and Allison Davis’s undercover work with Burleigh and Mary Gardner, documenting the everyday realities of racism in 1940s Mississippi. It is to DuVernay’s credit that we are never in any doubt about where we are or what point is being made.

There are moments when the concepts need bullet-pointing for clarity, and this is neatly achieved by the addition of a literal whiteboard. We see Wilkerson laboriously erecting it, before covering it in notes about the pillars that hold oppression in its place. This helps to anchor the key arguments, making them easy to grasp and remember.

Origin is a demanding piece of cinema, but it’s worth the effort. I come away feeling both horrified and educated, looking at the world in a different way.

4 stars

Susan Singfield