Lovecraft (Not the Sex Shop in Cardiff)

Lovecraft1.jpg

05/08/18

Summerhall, Edinburgh

Sporting one of the most unforgettable titles of the festival, Lovecraft (Not the Sex Shop in Cardiff) is the creation of Carys Eleri. She swaggers into Summerhall’s Red Lecture Theatre from behind the audience, announcing into a microphone that she is the goddess of love and that she is here to spread the word.

I’ll admit that at first I don’t think I’m going to like this very much but, happily, I’m wrong. Eleri’s vivacious personality soon wins me over and I start to enjoy her witty and enthusiastically presented songs, which range in style from hip-hop to power ballad and all points in between. It helps that she has a terrific singing voice and the kind of bubbly personality that you can’t help but like.

She promptly takes us on a picaresque journey through her (mostly disastrous) love life. She’s clearly done some research here, concentrating on the science of human attraction. Her subjects include endorphins, neuro-transmitters and dopamine and, if that all sounds a bit technical, don’t worry, because these bits are accompanied by colourful and amusing animations that cleverly illustrate what she’s talking about.

The audience is also treated to a ‘cwtch’ apiece (if you’re not Welsh, you’ll need to see the show to find out exactly what that is) and a taste of some very nice dairy and nut-free chocolate, which let’s face it, is not something you’ll get at many Fringe shows.

Those looking for a bit of light relief from the more serious fare on offer at the Fringe could do a lot worse than head up to Summerhall to catch this funny and engaging show. Unless you’re made of stone, you’ll have a really good time.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

 

Skin a Cat

05/08/18

Assembly Rooms, George Street, Edinburgh

Vaginismus. It’s not an obvious topic for a play. But that’s exactly the point of Isley Lynn’s Skin a Cat: despite affecting an estimated 1 in 200 women, vaginismus is rarely talked about. In an age where we can casually acknowledge scores of lovers, where we can – at last – be open about our sexual orientation and gender identity,  vaginismus is one of the last remaining taboos.

So what is it? In short, vaginismus is an involuntary contraction of the muscles around the opening of the vagina, which makes sexual intercourse painful or impossible. And, in Alana (Lydia Larson)’s case, as she gets into bed with a boy at a party, this results in a panic attack that leaves her short of oxygen and fitting. Not the most auspicious way to start off her sex life.

Despite – and sometimes because of – the awkwardness of the subject matter, this is a very funny piece, engagingly performed by a trio of actors. Lydia Larson, in the central role, is mesmerising, actually: uneasy and vulnerable, yet lively and confident; clever and articulate, but unable to give voice to her deepest concern. This is a nuanced performance, as naked and raw as the flesh-coloured costume that leaves her secrets exposed. It’s impossible not to care.

Larson is joined on stage by Joe Eyre and Libby Rodliffe, who play all of the supporting roles: Alana’s boyfriends and lovers; her mother, friends – and gynaecologist. They slip effortlessly between characters, bringing Alana’s sexual odyssey to life, adding light to the shade and ensuring this piece is entertaining as well as enlightening.

Blythe Stewart’s direction works well. The bed looms large, centre stage throughout – an unavoidable presence marking Alana’s every experience or encounter. Rodliffe and Eyre are positioned either side of it, subtle shadows of angel/devil emerging as they speak through microphones. The sex scenes – and there are a lot of them – are nicely done, excruciating for Alana, of course, but not for the audience: graphic but never gratuitous.

This is an interesting, intimate depiction of an important subject, and definitely worth taking the time to see.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Zoo

05/08/18

Assembly, George Square

Zoo is a charming and extremely likeable play, inspired by real events and sensitively acted by Lily Bevan and Lorna Beckett. Its greatest strength lies in the characterisations of two very different people, who both harbour incidents in their pasts that have shaped the women they have become.

Bonnie (Bevan, who also wrote the script) is the ever-smiling, ever-optimistic keeper at a wildlife centre in Miami. As Hurricane Hector bears inexorably down on the sanctuary where she’s based, she works frantically to keep her animal friends safe from harm, whilst simultaneously attempting to record an interview with CNN. Meanwhile, in North Yorkshire, dour and practical Carol (Beckett) dutifully guides school children around the bat sanctuary that is closest to her heart.

The women are unlikely friends – they met when they were both on a course at Chester Zoo and have stayed in contact ever since. Clearly they have recognised something in each other, something unspoken that makes them form a bond. Each of them prefers the company of animals to humans – and both will be touched by tragedy as the hurricane approaches. If the flashback sequences in the final third slow things down a tad,  there’s nonetheless, a heartfelt conclusion that sends you away with a smile.

Directed by Hamish MacDougall, and simply staged, this is a poignant yet often amusing tale about heroism and the power of friendship.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Jo Caulfield: Killing Time

 

04/08/18

The Stand, Edinburgh

I don’t go to see Jo Caulfield in order to be surprised. I’ve been a fan of her comedy for long enough to know what to expect – and I’m looking forward to another helping of her sly sarcasm. I’m not disappointed.

It’s Saturday night and the room is packed; Caulfield’s reputation means an audience is guaranteed, and she well deserves it. She makes it look effortless – her stage persona is all shrugs and don’t-give-a-fuck – but it would be a mistake to underestimate the skill that makes this show. She’s sharp, assessing her audience at the same time as engaging us, pushing boundaries with deceptive innocence.

In Killing Time Caulfield sticks to what she knows. ‘There won’t be a theme or a message to this show,’ she says, ‘If you want that, you’ll need to go elsewhere. This’ll just be me, talking about what I’ve done, what I’ve been thinking…’ And it is, kind of – but it’s so much more as well. It’s observational comedy, sure, but a clear illustration of why that genre persists: in the right hands – in her hands – it’s funny. She’s outraged, regularly, by other people’s behaviour, by their rudeness or their lack of awareness, by their sheer stupidity. She maintains a straight face throughout, a wide-eyed insouciance belying the audacity of some of what she says: she’s the queen of bitchy put-downs but she keeps us on her side. It’s an impressive tight-rope walk.

Okay, so there’s quite a lot of men-do-this-and-women-do-that stuff, but she makes it work – it doesn’t seem hack. The observations are fresh and precisely delivered, and the audience response is proof they hit their mark.

There’s a real joy to be had in watching someone so confident and assured. And Jo Caulfield can be relied upon to deliver a great show.

4.5 stars

Susan Singfield

Kin

04/08/18

Underbelly, Cowgate

We first became aware of writer Max Dickins’ work at last year’s fringe when we happened upon his brilliant monologue, The Man on the Moor, and marked him as a name to watch out for in the future. With Kin, he steps away from the performance side of things, but the power of his writing is evident in every line of this excellent drama, which concentrates on the story of two estranged sisters, brought together by the imminent death of their equally estranged father.

The action occurs in a single room of the father’s American home. Lily (Kate Alderton) is already there, dutifully preparing for his demise, when Sarah (Abigail Burdess) arrives, jet-lagged and cranky, to lend a hand. The father remains an off-stage presence, only intermittently heard via a strategically placed baby alarm – but his belongings litter the stage and help to draw a picture of the man. It quickly becomes clear that the two sisters do not really get on: they haven’t seen each other for two decades; something happened back in their teenage years to drive a wedge between them. Lily is married, a stay-at-home mother with two children; Sarah is a fierce loner who has devoted her life to her career. They are worlds apart, and yet they shared so much when they were young. As the hours pass, we learn about the events that have driven them apart, about the bitter rivalries that time has failed to erase –  and our first impressions of the two women are cleverly undermined. We come to understand that what we think we know about them may not be as straightforward as we initially suppose.

The script crackles and spits with dark invective – Sarah’s dialogue in particular is unflinchingly brutal and hilarious in its insistence on making no compromises, taking no prisoners. The performances of both actors are first rate and, by the play’s highly emotive conclusion, it’s clear that the tears being shed onstage go far beyond mere acting.

If you enjoy powerful theatre about family dynamics, get yourselves to the Underbelly with all haste and catch this one.

4.5 stars

Philip Caveney

Dominoes

04/08/18

Assembly George Square Studios, Edinburgh

Phoebe McIntosh’s monologue, Dominoes, is a thought-provoking, engaging piece of work, a prime example of how this particular form lends itself so well to the Fringe. It tells the tale of Layla McKinnon, a young history teacher whose fiancé shares her surname, a quirk of fate that first amuses them but soon threatens their relationship. Layla is mixed race, ‘in the middle’, not particularly interested in racial politics. But revelations about her ancestry force her to consider how the past shapes the present, to make decisions about who she is and how she wants to live.

It’s a weighty subject, but it’s handled here with wit and warmth; McIntosh is a charismatic performer, and there are laughs a-plenty alongside the serious stuff. This is not a judgemental piece; all of the characters in Layla’s story are given space to air their disparate views, which effectively gives us – the audience – permission to interrogate our own identities, our own preconceptions, our own ideas of who we want to be.

The direction, by Stephen Wrentmore, is sprightly; there’s a real lightness of touch. Layla’s wedding dress, for example, dangling from a coat hanger, serves as a reminder throughout of what’s at stake, almost like the ghost of a character, Layla’s potential future self.

An intimate play for an intimate venue; McIntosh deserves to play to a full house every day. Take the opportunity to check this one out. It’s really very good.

4.5 stars

Susan Singfield

 

First Snow/Première neige

03/08/18

Canada Hub, King’s Hall, Edinburgh

The press launches are pretty much done and dusted, the complimentary wine dutifully sipped, the introductions have all been made and now it’s eyes down for our first show of the Edinburgh Fringe 2018. Happily, it’s an auspicious start, an impressive and ambitious slice of theatre, a co-production between the National Theatre of Scotland, and Canada’s Theatre Pap and Hotel-Motel. In the interests of inclusivity, the piece is performed multi-lingually – in English, French and two different sign languages. If that suggests the results might be confusing, don’t worry – this is skilfully directed by Patrice Dubois and memorably acted by an ensemble cast.

Artist Isabelle (Isabelle Vincent) summons her family back to the ancestral home in Quebec. Her visitors include her daughters, Mina (Guillermina Kerwin) and Zoe (Zoe Tremblay), with Zoe’s Scots/Congolese boyfriend, Thierry (Thierry Mabonga), along for the ride. There’s also Isabelle’s conservative brother, Harry (Harry Standjofski), whose political views are anathema to the assembled crowd. Isabelle is keen to talk about the family’s future. After all, she’s seen her hopes for an independent Quebec dashed in the 1995 referendum and, more recently, her old friend Fletcher (Fletcher Mather)’s hopes of a ‘leave’ vote in Scotland have been similarly scuppered. Now the spectre of Brexit hangs over the UK. What does it mean for those who dare to dream of a different world?

Though the theme of family ties is uppermost here, it’s nonetheless a politically charged piece and the observation that people’s ambitions are so often dashed by cautious conservatism is eloquently told. From such an accomplished cast, it’s hard to single out an actor for particular praise, but I do relish Standjiofski’s turn as the snarky, sneering Harry, a man capable of offending everyone in the room with a single offhand remark.

With all those different ideologies under one roof – plus the presence of Isobel’s adoptive son, Francois (Francois Bernier), who fully expects to inherit the family home when Isabelle is gone – it’s only a matter of time before things come to a messy confrontation, which they do in spectacular fashion.

This is thought-provoking and prescient stuff – and, if it’s a portent of what to expect from the rest of this year’s Fringe, a very good sign indeed.

4.5 stars

Philip Caveney

Mission Impossible: Fallout

 

27/07/18

Most film franchises follow a familiar trajectory. They start well and, through the rules of diminishing returns, steadily become ever more feeble until somebody finally has the good grace to pull the plug on them. The Mission Impossible series, however, seems to have gone in the opposite direction. After a couple of so-so efforts, episodes three, four and five really managed to cut some mustard – and this sixth instalment of the TV-inspired show is surely its strongest manifestation yet. Indeed, this audacious thrill-ride, courtesy of returning writer/director Christopher McQuarrie is so enthralling I occasionally find myself holding my breath as Ethan Hunt (Tom Cruise) jumps off buildings, races on motorbikes, dangles from helicopters and runs for miles, all in the name of truth and justice. Yes, it’s complete tosh, but when it’s done this well, who cares?

When we first meet up with Hunt, he’s worrying about Julia (Michelle Monaghan), the wife he’s been forced to live apart from in order to keep her out of danger. But of course, for an IMF operative, danger is never very far away. Old adversary Solomon Lane (Sean Harris) is being used as a pawn by various secret powers, who aim to utilise his special skills to convert some stolen weapons grade plutonium into deadly nuclear devices. Hunt and his sidekicks, Benji (Simon Pegg) and Luther (Ving Rhames), are assigned to take care of securing Lane and the plutonium and, for this mission, they are assigned an extra player – August Walker (Henry Cavill), a hard man with a high opinion of himself. But, when things go awry, the team are faced with a even trickier challenge. They must track down two nuclear weapons before they are detonated – an occurrence which will destroy huge areas of the planet. (So no pressure there.) Luckily, Hunt’s old flame Ilsa Faust (Rebecca Ferguson) is on hand to lend her own special talents…

There’s quite a tricky story line here, with plenty of unexpected twists and reveals – and naturally, some of those hi tech masks that the makers are so fond of, but really, it’s all just a linking device for a whole string of spectacular set pieces, which are so triumphantly realised, you’ll barely have time to stop and speculate how far-fetched they are. Cruise, looking far better than anyone his age has any right to be, revels in some of the most hair-raising stunts this side of a Jackie Chan movie – indeed, the scene where he actually breaks his leg is included in all its wince-inducing glory. Cavill, who I’ve never really rated as Superman, is a lot more interesting when given a bit more character to play with and there’s excellent support from the rest of the cast.

Okay, you can argue that this film isn’t really about very much, but you’d be missing the point. It’s all about action and only a very few movies have managed to do it as effortlessly as its done here. My advice? Strap yourself in and enjoy the ride. And Mission Impossible Seven? Well, I certainly wouldn’t rule it out.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

 

Hotel Artemis
HA_01515_CC Sterling K. Brown in HOTEL ARTEMIS. Photo credit: Matt Kennedy / Distributor: Global Road Entertainment

25/07/18

Set in a dystopian, near future Los Angeles… boy, if only I had a tenner for every time I’ve started a review with that line… there exists a secret location that’s kind of like BUPA for criminals. Basically, bad people become members, they pay their dues every month and, when they find themselves all shot up and in urgent need of medical attention, this is where they come to recuperate. The joint is run by The Nurse (Jodie Foster), once a valued member of the caring profession, now a hopeless alcoholic with a penchant for repairing the trickiest of wounds. You need a new liver? No problem! She has a 3D printer that can make you one! She’s ably assisted by Everest (Dave Bautista), a veritable man-mountain who’ll do anything for her but, she’s not a happy bunny,  haunted by something bad in her past, something we occasionally catch unsettling glimpses of.

Into this pressure cooker setting comes Waikiki (Sterling K. Brown) and his brother, Honolulu (Bryan Tyree Henry), who – after a bank job has gone belly-up – are badly wounded and struggling to survive. (In case you’re wondering about those names, characters are called after the holiday-themed rooms in which they are installed.)

But things are more complicated than usual. A problem with LA’s biggest water supplier has kicked off violent riots on the streets, so even getting across town is problematic. Once safely in the building, Waikiki meets up with his ‘friend,’ Nice (Sofia Boutella), an assassin who makes her living from bumping off VIPs, sharing the kill with her employers via a camera embedded in her head. Well, we’ve all got to earn a living, right?

And then, in comes The Wolf King (Jeff Goldblum), who, as the name might suggest, is LA’s most powerful gangster and also, it turns out, the man who set up the Hotel Artemis in the first place. So nobody is going to keep him out, right? Problem is, for a very important reason, he’s the last person that Waikiki and Honolulu want to meet up with…

Writer/director Drew Pearce’s futuristic film is an assured and intriguing piece of cinema. It may have all the trappings of a sci-fi movie, but it’s much more about the characters and the way they interact with each other. The complex storyline generates plenty of tension and there are  some fine performances from an ensemble cast. Foster is particularly good, submitting a brilliant character study in the lead role that makes me wish she’d act in more films. The setting too, with each room styled around a different theme, is memorable. Perhaps inevitably, in the final reel, events descend into violence, but this too is well-handled and doesn’t outstay its welcome. More sensitive viewers may wish to glance away from the screen at key moments.

So, that’s the Hotel Artemis. Well worth booking into for a short and occasionally enthralling city break. Just don’t expect to come out in one piece.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again

23/07/18

The reviews have been astonishing: Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again is, we’re told, a glorious piece of feelgood fun; moreover, it has the emotional heft to make us cry. We’re surprised: we’re ABBA fans (because the music is undeniably good, right?) but we both found the first film a sort of okay-watchable-quite-good-nothing-special kind of thing. So what makes it so much better this time?

Sadly, the answer is… nothing. Nothing makes it better, because it isn’t better: it’s worse. It’s weirdly patchy: some genuinely awful sequences interspersed with lovely moments. All together, it’s a mess. Most of it (the prequel section) tells a back story we already know, fleshed out without revealing anything. There are no surprises here. The sequel section fares better, with the multi-talented Amanda Seyfried (Sophie) bringing a much-needed sincerity to proceedings, and wringing every ounce of emotion from the songs (One of Us, which she sings with her estranged husband, Sky (Dominic Cooper), is the highlight of the film for me).

The prequel takes us back to 1979, when Donna (Lily James), freshly graduated from Oxford, unsure of what she wants from life, decides to seek adventure and takes herself off travelling. In Paris, she meets Harry (Hugh Skinner); charmed by his geeky naïvety, she spends the night with him before heading off alone to Greece. En route to the unnamed island idyll that claims her, she meets Stellan Skarsgård’s younger incarnation (Josh Dylan), but he’s off to take part in a boat race, and – while he’s gone – she falls for Sam (Jeremy Irvine), the Pierce Brosnan-a-like, who is absolutely perfect – except for the fiancée he forgets to tell her about. James is a charismatic performer, and her vocal skills are more than up to the challenge (which is more than can be said for poor Hugh Skinner, who has definitely been cast because he resembles Colin Firth, and not because he has any discernible musical ability). Her character is flighty and foolish, making literally no use of that Oxford degree, but she’s engaging and entertaining, and she makes us care about her.

Not much happens in the sequel, which is a shame, because it has all the best songs and all the best actors. I mean, Sophie gets pregnant and feels close to her dead mother, and there’s a party that’s threatened by a storm, but that’s about it. True, Cher is a camp delight, appearing as Sophie’s errant grandmother and stealing the show, and Dancing Queen proves the perfect accompaniment to a lively, animated crowd scene. But honestly, that’s all there is.

There are huge missteps too. I hate the graduation scene where Donna and her friends (Jessica Keenan Wynn and Alexa Davies) sing I Kissed the Teacher to a badly accented Celia Imrie (I think she’s supposed to be Scottish, but I can’t be sure). They’ve changed ‘he’ to ‘she’ in a bid to make the lyrics somehow more palatable, but I can’t see what difference it makes – it’s a good song, but the sentiment is undeniably creepy when filtered through a 2018 lens. It makes me most uncomfortable.

Ach, I don’t know. It’s just a load of mawkish nonsense, unpalatably sentimental and as silly as can be. Thank you for the music, ABBA – but can we stop filming this fluff?

2.8 stars

Susan Singfield