Blinded By the Light
Viveik Kalra, Nell Williams and Aaron Phagura appear in Blinded by the Light by Gurinder Chadha, an official selection of the Premieres program at the 2019 Sundance Film Festival. Courtesy of Sundance Institute | photo by Nick Wall. All photos are copyrighted and may be used by press only for the purpose of news or editorial coverage of Sundance Institute programs. Photos must be accompanied by a credit to the photographer and/or ‘Courtesy of Sundance Institute.’ Unauthorized use, alteration, reproduction or sale of logos and/or photos is strictly prohibited.

16/8/19

Javed (Viveik Kalra) is a Pakistani teenager living in Luton in the 1980s. Struggling under the leash of his dictatorial father, Malik (Kulvinda Ghir), Javed harbours a longheld desire to be a writer. But, assailed on an almost daily basis by the racist taunts of brutal skinheads and the depravations of the Thatcher government, he realises his first need is to get a decent education and then get the hell out of there.

On his first day at sixth-form college, he meets up with Roops (Aaron Phagura), a Sikh teenager, who – like Javed – is always plugged in to his Walkman. When Javed asks what he’s listening to, Roops lends him a couple of Bruce Springsteen cassesttes. ‘You can thank me later,’ he says. Javed is of course, doubtful. Springsteen? That’s dad-rock, isn’t it? But when he finally does listen, the first track he hears is Born to Run – and he has something of an epiphany. Springsteen seems to be singing about Javed’s life, about a kid on the edge who dreams of escape. And pretty soon, Javed is seeing the Boss as something like his spirit guide. Perhaps there really is a brighter future waiting for him. But then Malik loses his job and all bets are off.

Gurinder Chadha’s film is an eminently likeable affair, based on Sarfraz Manzoor’s autobiographical book, Greetings From Bury Park. Javed is a charming hero and there are plenty of scenes here to keep audiences entertained – though it definately helps to be Springsteen-literate. The film’s at its best when protagonists are joyfully interracting with the music – a frantic chase around the streets of Luton to the strains of Thunder Road is a standout and I also love the scenes where the Boss’s lyrics are projected onto the landscape as Javed strides determinedly through a storm.

The film’s uneven though, and the hostility between Javed and his father feels a little over-familiar. Furthermore, I’m not sure I quite buy the adoring English teacher, Miss Clay (Hayley Atwell), who enters Javed’s composition for a prestigious award without running it by him first. At one-hour-fifty-seven minutes, the film is overstuffed – it  could lose twenty minutes of running time without sacrificing anything in the way of storyline.

That said, this is an entertaining tale and it is nice to relive those early Springsteen tracks in all their glory. I also worshipped at the Boss’s altar back in the day.

3.8 stars

Philip Caveney

Tokyo Rose

16/08/19

Underbelly Cowgate (Iron Belly), Edinburgh

This lively, 40s themed musical tells the true story of Iva Toguri d’Aquino. Never heard of her? Well, hers is an intriguing story.

Of Japanese descent, Iva was born and raised in California but, in 1941, was asked by her mother to go to Japan to  help her ailing aunt recover from illness. While Iva was there, Pearl Harbour was attacked and America and Japan were suddenly at war with each other. She tried to leave the country but, because the State Department had failed to arrange a passport for her visit, she was prevented from returning to her homeland. Pressured to renounce her American citizenship, she refused.

Against her will, Iva was recruited by The Zero Hour, a radio programme designed to demoralise the American troops that tuned in to listen to it – though the show’s director, Major Charles Cousins, could only persuade her to join by insisting that he had cunning methods to ensure that no anti-American propaganda would ever go out. Iva’s contributions were minimal (she did occasional broadcasts calling herself Little Orphan Anne) but, in 1949, when the war ended, she returned to America, only to find herself accused of treason, identified as the mythical Tokyo Rose.

The story is told through song and movement and it’s beautifully put together, Hannah Benson’s direction ensuring that it moves smoothly from scene to scene using a few well chosen props. Maya Britto is adorable as Iva, her expressions registering her helpless astonishment as her defence crumbles beneath the racially-motivated slurs of the prosecution. Lucy Park, Yuki Sutton, Cara Baldwin and Hannah Benson play a host of supporting roles, flitting effortlessly from character to character – and because this is a complicated tale, the large captioning screen at the side of the stage is helpful even for those of us without a hearing impairment. If I have a nitpick, I’d like to see dialogue spoken rather than sung, just to offer something in the way of contrast – but it’s not a deal-breaker.

Playing to a packed house and sending audiences out on a high, Tokyo Rose is a delight. It also illuminates a fascinating (and little known) story from the Second World War.

Grab a ticket if you can, and strap yourselves in for a bumpy ride.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

Sugar

15/08/19

Sweet Novotel (Novotel 2), Edinburgh

Sugar tells the tale of flatmates Steph (Kate Wilson) and Rhona (Ellie Squires), fed up with their dead-end jobs and dead-end lives. They’d just like to be able to pay the bills without borrowing from Rhona’s boyfriend, Mark (Matthew Ogden), again. When they realise – via Steph’s listless trawling of Tinder – that there are men who will pay quite handsomely for a pair of… used tights… they set aside their qualms, nylon up and set up a small business. Surely nothing can go wrong?

The script, wittily penned by Catrin Evans, is Sugar‘s greatest strength. It’s a quirky, original idea, and the writing is sprightly and lively. There are plenty of laugh-out-loud funny lines, but also some serious points being made – about poorly paid jobs, for example, and the fact that even full-time workers can’t pay their modest bills. I would like a bit more detail about their workplace, though: they are dressed as if they work in retail, but their talk of HR, etc. makes it sound more like they are based in an office. It’s a small thing, but I find myself wondering about it, which is somewhat distracting.

The direction by Evans and Robbie Crow is generally good, allowing dynamic movement in a tiny space, although I do find myself a little irritated by the pointless exits and entrances, where characters leave the stage, only to return five seconds later to exactly the same position. A simple lighting change would be far more effective here, and would look less clumsy.

Although funny and engaging throughout, the acting is a little uneven, with some of the cast playing up the humour to the detriment of credible characterisation. Squires stands out, convincing even when Rhona’s behaviour is utterly ridiculous.

This, though, is partly what the Fringe is for: giving creatives the space to try out new ideas. And this one, I think, has (nylon covered) legs.

3 stars

Susan Singfield

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

15/09/19

We’re deep into our annual scramble at the Edinburgh Fringe, but there’s a problem. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood has opened and I need to see it. Not, I should hasten to add, because I’m a fan of Quentin Tarantino. Quite the opposite. Indeed, I’d go so far as to say that – in my opinion – he’s the most overrated film director in history. But, The Cameo is screening the film in 35 mm, using a projector that was made some time in the 1940s and that’s something that the geek in me needs to see. So, a two-hour-and-forty-one minute slot is located in our schedule, and here I sit as the lights dim and the screen kicks into life.

The first thing to say is that the film looks incredible. Light projected through celluloid will always be superior to a digital print. That’s a fact. And I will also add that the film’s musical score is also pretty fantastic, featuring a plethora of sparkling 60s pop classics. But I’m afraid that’s the last good thing I have to say about Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.

The plot: actor Rick Dalton (Leonardo DiCaprio) was once a big name in Hollywood, due to regular starring roles in Western TV shows, but now his star is beginning to wane. He lives in a big house on Cielo Drive and is driven around by his gofer, Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt), who lives in a lowly caravan a short distance away. Booth too is on his uppers. Once a respected stuntman, he is now reduced to fetching and carrying for Rick. Oh, and the rumour is that back in the day, he murdered his wife. Next door lives the director du jour, Roman Polanski (Rafal Zawierucha), fresh off the hit film Rosemary’s Baby, and his pregnant wife, Sharon Tate (Margot Robbie). And meanwhile, up at Spahn’s Ranch, the Manson family are gearing up for some very dark deeds…

Look, the truth is, I really should like this film. The era fascinates me and so does the central story around which this is based. But what I see onscreen is an interminable trudge through a series of over-extended background stories, with Tarantino spending far too long on telling them and being far too pleased with his evocations of 60s cinema and television. Margot Robbie barely gets any lines of dialogue (which sadly enforces Tarantino’s reputation as a misogynist), the great Bruce Lee is depicted as an absolute dick, and a whole troupe of respected actors – Bruce Dern, Dakota Fanning, Timothy Olyphant, Kurt Russell, Al Pacino – are brought onscreen to perform five minutes of pointless ‘acting,’ before being summarily dismissed.

And then there’s that fairytale ending, applauded by many film critics as ‘audacious,’ but which to me seems merely dumb and kind of borderline offensive. Tarantino has previous form here as anyone who saw Inglourious Basterds will know.

Look, the man has many fans and this film has already been widely praised by other critics, so maybe I just need to accept that his style of filmmaking is not for me. But nobody is ever going to convince me that he is a director in control of his own process. Two hours and forty one minutes? Really?

But that 35mm print. Now that is class.

2.5 stars

Philip Caveney

Ripped

15/08/19

Underbelly Cowgate (Belly Laugh), Edinburgh

‘Jack’ has an all-consuming mission – to turn himself into a ‘real’ man. You know what I mean by that… bulging biceps, a rock-hard six-pack, the ability to face down any adversary and come out on top.

With this is mind, he’s spending a lot of time down the gym, lifting weights, doing push-ups. He models himself on Rambo (‘don’t push it or I’ll give you a war you won’t believe’), and he dreams about having the authority to make other men step aside. At the gym, he meets Max, a weightlifter, and the two of them hit it off. Pretty soon, Jack is running with his new friend’s gang, drinking Stella, snorting lines of coke and immersing himself in a foetid stew of toxic masculinity. But, as the story unfolds, we begin to realise that something bad has happened to Jack, back when he was just some skinny kid called Jamie – something that, try as he might, he cannot banish from his mind. Something that haunts him. Something that is destroying him.

Ripped is a monologue, written and performed by Alex Gwyther and direct by Max Lindsay. It’s a play that tackles a subject that few dramatists are prepared to take on, because the subject is so taboo. But here male rape is confronted head on, and laid bare in all its unspeakable horror.

Not only is this a beautifully written piece, one that walks a perilous tightrope between dark comedy and outright shock, but it also features a performance so powerful and compelling that I find myself riveted by it. I’m clearly not alone. Gwyther receives an impassioned standing ovation at the play’s conclusion.

I cannot promise that you’ll enjoy this play, but it positively demands to be seen. And I have just one more word to add to this review.

Wow.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

 

 

Will Duggan: Class Two

14/08/19

Pleasance Courtyard (Bunker), Edinburgh

In the great gamble of the Edinburgh Fringe, location is all important. Comedian Will Duggan has somehow wound up in the unprepossessing Bunker, a grim sweatbox a short stroll from the Grand. Even in the current showery weather conditions, it feels disagreeably sticky, despite the presence of an air conditioning unit chugging gamely along on the sidelines. It doesn’t help that the guy on the door instructs us not to occupy the front row, which leaves Duggan with the discouraging prospect of a line of empty seats right in front of him. He gives it his best shot though, pitching himself as a perennial loser and getting the audience firmly on his side.

This is mostly about the poor decisions he’s made throughout his career. He always believed he was destined for greatness but now finds himself positioned in the middle ranks of the comedy circuit and wondering how he might take the next big step up. He tells us about the four (imaginary) childhood friends who guided him through the hard times and whom he hasn’t spoken to for twenty-five years. Perhaps they can help him make sense of it all.

Duggan is an affable chap with an engaging line of patter and a self-deprecating honesty. Today, he seems a little rushed, hurrying through his routine. I’d like to see him take his foot off the accelerator and cruise a little more, giving his one-liners more time to connect. I enjoy his story about learning sign language, but am rather less impressed when he reveals the reasoning behind it – and the sequence where he recreates his end-of-term school concert appearance might have been even funnier (and braver) if it were conducted in total silence.

Still, grim venue and lousy weather notwithstanding, Duggan is a comedian we’ll try to catch again the future – hopefully in a more agreeable setting.

3.4 stars

Philip Caveney

 

Sexy Lamp

14/08/19

Pleasance Courtyard (Baby Grand), Edinburgh

I know I’m going to like this show as soon as I enter the room, and am offered a rhubarb and custard boiled sweet. There’s a huge jar of them being passed around, while Katie Arnstein – the writer/performer responsible – sits on stage, dressed in a leopard-print dressing gown, with a lampshade on her head. A quirky, inclusive atmosphere is established even before we have begun.

In some ways, Sexy Lamp could be dismissed as – yawn – yet another monologue about an actor struggling to cope, which is certainly a popular theme at this year’s Fringe. But this piece is so charming and well-crafted that it’s impossible not to warm to it – and it’s outward-looking too. Arnstein doesn’t just tell us about how she‘s dealt with her problems: she opens up her outrage; this is a call to arms.

Arnstein is immensely likeable. As she sheds the lampshade, she expounds Kelly Sue DeConnick’s theory about movies and plays: if there’s a scene where a woman can be replaced with a sexy lamp without derailing the plot, this indicates that something is awry.

From here, we learn about Arnstein’s childhood dream to be an actor – or, more specifically, to be Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. That first young impulse stays with her, and leads her to drama school, then out into the world as an actor seeking work. And then, to her horror, exposes her to the unspeakable sexism rife in the industry.

To Arnstein’s credit, this never feels self-indulgent. Her indignation is real and justified, and presented with a clear understanding of how to win over an audience. Her feminism is expressed through witty songs (self-accompanied on the ukulele) and delivered with bags of natural charisma. As she struggles to assert herself, to define her own parameters, she sends a clear message to all of us: even in such a competitive industry, acquiescence is not always worth it; sometimes it’s better to say ‘no’ than it is to say ‘yes, and…’

4.6 stars

Susan Singfield

The First King of England in a Dress

14/08/19

theSpace Triplex (Studio), Edinburgh

Epic Tales give a likeable performance in The First King of England in a Dress, a story of Vikings and English folk – and, of course, good ol’ King Canute. Between them, Kate Madison, Chip Colquhoun and Izzy Dawson portray a raft of characters, holding the audience’s attention with ease.

It’s not perfect. For starters, it’s crying out for a soundtrack to help convey both mood and location. And I’m not sure why the audience participation is limited to reluctant adults; it seems to me it would make more sense to take enthusiastic child volunteers. Sure, they’re less predictable and might derail the story a little, but I think the cast should take that risk. The piece could benefit from the silliness that may ensue, and it’d be easy enough for these seasoned storytellers to get things back on track.

The biggest issue for me though is the gender stereotyping, which seems a little out of step with current thinking. Of course, the story demands that girls are disguised as boys to escape the evil woman-hunting monks, but the narrative could surely acknowledge that’s not how we do things now, that signifiers such as dresses and long hair are no longer important.

Still, it’s an enjoyable fifty minutes, and these three performers certainly know how to tell a tale. The props are detailed and interesting, creating a real sense of the time and place. Young performer Izzy Dawson has a truly lovely singing voice, and I like the use of the lyre to accompany her. A rain stick is also utilised to great effect.

These three actors have an easy rapport with the kids in the audience, and have created an enjoyable little show.

3 stars

Susan Singfield

Daliso Chaponda: Blah Blah Blacklist

13/08/19

Gilded Balloon Teviot (Wine Bar), Edinburgh

A heads-up for readers new to Bouquets & Brickbats: Daliso Chaponda is a friend. We don’t usually review our mates’ work (waaaay too awkward), but we transgressed this unwritten rule a long time ago with Daliso, so it seems silly to stop now. Especially when there’s so much to say about his latest show.

Blah Blah Blacklist is deceptively genial: the tone is light, but there’s a controversial undercurrent. The show is about our reactions to fallen heroes: do we need to ‘cancel’ them or can we continue to enjoy their work whilst despising what they’ve done?

But it’s about more than that too. Daliso is an advocate for nuance: Bill Cosby’s criminal activities are beyond the pale, but maybe Louis CK can be redeemed? It’s a brave show in many ways, challenging woke responses as much as racist ones. Daliso has no time for easy answers: this is an intelligent, thought-provoking hour, the gentle, questioning approach belying the force behind it. Oh, and did I mention? It’s very funny too.

The theme is expanded, as Daliso moves from disgraced celebrities to something more personal: his own father (a much-loved government minister in Malawi) is accused of committing a crime. Another potentially fallen hero, and this one much closer to home. He stands by his dad – ‘80% sure he’s as innocent as he claims’ – and witnesses first-hand the ire of those convinced of his guilt.

Daliso has a wider perspective than most: he’s lived in nine countries on four continents; Britain is, he says – despite the polarising views expressed online – the most accepting place he knows. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to let us off the hook…

An astute, perceptive and laugh-out-loud show – you really shouldn’t miss this one.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

Blizzard

13/08/19

Assembly Hall, Edinburgh

I’m not usually a big fan of the circus. The glitzy outfits and macho posturing tend to put me off and prevent me from concentrating on the undoubted skills of the performers. But here I sit amidst a packed crowd at the Assembly Hall. My heart’s in my mouth and I’m thrilled to the core as I watch a team of acrobats hurtle up and down on a trampoline. They land like soaring birds on a precarious wooden perch high above me.

Flip Fabrique hail from Quebec and they are unlike any troupe I’ve seen before, presenting a strange but enchanting blend of circus skills, theatre and music. The conceit of Blizzard is that it takes place during ‘adverse weather conditions.’ Snow flakes drift down onto the stage as people trudge out of the wings wreathed in hooded parkas – but, within moments, the sensible clothing has been cast off and  an aerial act is whirling magisterially overhead.

A snowball fight turns into a symphony of frantic leaping and somersaulting. A performer is thrown effortlessly through the air and caught, an instant before her head makes contact with a wooden floor – no safety nets here! And, throughout the show, Ben Nasrellah performs a live score, tinkling  away on a state-of-the-art keyboard cloned with an upright piano, strumming on a guitar and, at one point, compelling the audience to clap gleefully along with him. He’s as integral to this act as the other performers.

I love the precision of this show, the way that every component (including that amazing keyboard) is wheeled smoothly around to accomodate the next sequence – and the next. The finale features a huge metal rectangle, hoisted up to balance improbably on one corner while the entire troupe clambers around inside it like a swarm of industrious insects. The result is breathtaking.

If you see only one circus act during the Fringe, Blizzard is the family-friendly spectacle you don’t want to miss. It is, quite simply, stunningly good.

4.8 stars

Philip Caveney