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

 

Abigoliah Schamaun: Namaste, Bitches

06/08/17

Underbelly Cowgate, Edinburgh

Abigoliah Schamaun is as bold and unusual as her name. In fact, her moniker is one of the reasons we’re here (it’s memorable; we saw it on posters last year but didn’t have time to see her show); the other reason is Global Pillage, the remarkable Deborah Frances-White’s “diversity-based panel show.” The episode featuring Ms Schamaun was a stand-out, and made me want to see more of her output.

Namaste, Bitches reveals Abigoliah to be a hot mess of contradictions: she’s a fitness freak who drinks and smokes; a tattooed shave-head who loves Hello Dolly. And she’s unexpectedly sweet and appealing too. It’s a genuinely quirky, unpredictable hour, with delightfully warm and natural audience interaction. Philip and I are even called upon to learn some Bikram yoga, which definitely makes us look silly, but we’re not the butt of the joke; it’s a friendly kind of show. We laugh throughout, and leave with big smiles on our faces, feeling good about ourselves and the evening we have had.

She might be losing her voice, but Abigoliah has a lot to say – and it’s definitely worth listening to.

4.2 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

 

Sarah Kendall – One Seventeen

05/08/17

Assembly George Square, Edinburgh

Reviewing at the Fringe, as we do every year, we make a point of trying to see as many new acts as possible – but there are some we just cannot allow ourselves to miss and Sarah Kendall definitely belongs in that category. This skilled storyteller from Newcastle Australia really is a spellbinding performer, who never fails to create a fascinating and highly original show. One Seventeen is no exception, even if I’m left a little confused by the relevance of the title.

She wanders out onto the stage and launches straight into a seemingly unconnected series of events, with recollections from her childhood cleverly intercut with more recent observations of her life in London. The subject matter is so disparate – from an attempt to see Halley’s Comet to a friend’s cancer diagnosis – that, at first, you really can’t see how she’s going to tie it all together. But then she does – effortlessly, satisfyingly – utilising incredible skill and just the right amount of pathos, holding the audience in the palm of her hand all the way through.

Kendall isn’t exactly a comedian, though you will laugh out loud at much of what she says. She’s a talented writer who crafts her material with incredible precision. Little wonder she gets nominated for so many awards.

If you’re at the festival this year, don’t miss her. She’s really rather wonderful.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

 

Francesco de Carlo: Comfort Zone

05/08/17

Underbelly, George Square

Francesco de Carlo is Italian. Of course, his name on the poster means this doesn’t exactly come as a surprise, but – in case you were in any doubt – his accent confirms it. ‘This isn’t a character,’ he tells us. ‘This is my real voice.’ And that’s pretty much what this show is about: being a visible immigrant in Brexit-era Britain (although he’s at pains to point out that he’s not suffering, that he’s not comparing himself to a refugee).

De Carlo came to the UK just as we decided to leave the EU. He’s sad about the decision. His viewpoint is interesting: the show positions him as an outsider, but he has an insider’s knowledge of the European Parliament because he used to work in its press office.His opinions are interesting and informed. He praises Britain too: reminds us of the reasons we should be proud of what we have. We don’t need to be racist or xenophobic; it’s demeaning and unnecessary. Get out, travel, see as many places as you can – that seems to be the underlying message here. If you can learn about the world, you can better understand your own place in it.

His observations are funny too; he has a disarming sincerity, which is very charming indeed. The crowd inside the Wee Coo warms to him immediately, and clearly enjoys his musings on the Italian comedy scene. It’s a lovely, enjoyable way to spend an hour, being gently coaxed to leave our comfort zones. Well worth a look.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Margarita Dreams

05/08/17

Underbelly Med Quad, Edinburgh

Margarita Dreams is essentially a series of comedy sketches, tied together with a loose narrative. The conceit is simple: Dave (Jason Brasier) is on holiday in Mexico. On the beach, he drinks a few too many margaritas and falls asleep. What ensues is the product of a tequila-and-sun-soaked brain, all fevered imaginings and absurd nonsense.

There are a few standout moments: Jack Baxter’s song about string theory is enjoyably silly, and Bella Speaight’s ill-fated assignation with Brad Pitt is also nicely played.

But, in all honesty, the piece doesn’t really work as a whole. The dreams are curiously flat and it all feels a bit one-note. The jokes, by themselves, are rather weak, and I suspect they need much bigger, more exaggerated performances to make them fly. The actors are clearly giving it their best shot, but there isn’t much of substance for them to work with here. As it stands, there’s a whiff of the end-of-term show about it – and disco dancing isn’t funny in and of itself. There’s clearly some promise in this piece, and maybe it’ll grow with the run, but right now it’s landing somewhat wide of its mark.

2.5 stars

Susan Singfield

John Robertson – Dominant

04/08/17

The Stand 5, Edinburgh

John Robertson is, as ever, in no mood to take any prisoners. After a noisy rock-star intro, the antipodean raconteur bounds onto the stage and starts to lay into us, his beloved audience, tearing us to pieces with a string of savage observations. He tells us he has ‘too much confidence’ and even predicts exactly how the show is going to end. If we think he’s exaggerating for comic effect, we’re wrong. It happens exactly as he describes it and I have to say, it’s probably one of the most bizarre conclusions to any show I’ve seen in Edinburgh. And trust me, I’ve seen a lot.

Robertson is a regular fixture on the Fringe, both with his stand up routines and his interactive Dark Room role-playing game. (This year, he’s even doing a kids’ version of the latter, but don’t be fooled into thinking that means he’s generally appropriate for children – he’s most definitely not!) Tonight’s scattershot barrage of stories touches on all manner of subjects: his sexuality; the shortcomings of the room in which he’s performing (he describes it as a partially-filled broom closet); the strange mannerisms of the people who’ve turned out to see him; the fact that the woman from whom he’s just stolen a drink might have given him herpes; the news that the pet dog, whose death provided the inspiration for last year’s routine, isn’t actually dead because… well, you’ll have to see the show to find out about that.

It’s all (apparently) improvised – he proudly claims to never do the same routine twice – and, unless you’re very prudish, you will laugh yourself silly. You’ll also marvel at the man’s chutzpah, his invention, his intelligence and yes, his courage, because this is genuinely challenging stuff, much more so than what generally passes for ‘edgy’ material – mostly, I believe, because all of his excesses are anchored in some kind of reality.

In many ways, I think Robertson exemplifies the true spirit of the Fringe. When they come to hand out this year’s award, somebody should give him proper consideration, though I suspect he’s thought of as way too dangerous for that to ever happen.

Nevertheless, this show represents Robertson at the top of his game and, if you decide to pass him up for a bigger, safer bet, well, you’ll only have yourself to blame. You’ll be missing one of the best shows at the Fringe.

5 stars

Philip Caveney