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

Hamstrung

03/08/24

Pleasance Courtyard (Baby Grand), Edinburgh

Theatre’s most famous skull, Yorick, is amply fleshed out in this playful monologue, written and performed by George Rennie. Shakespeare provides scant detail about the “fellow of infinite jest” –  we only know that he sang, danced, made people laugh and gave the young Hamlet piggybacks. But Rennie mines these few familiar lines to breathe life into a character renowned for  being er… dead. 

Rennie is an engaging actor, strutting and fretting his hour upon the stage and easily connecting with the audience. The early stretches of the play establish Yorick as a jester, keen to do his job and entertain. But his smile stretches thin as he strives to perform his routines; he’s clearly aware that something is wrong. Where is his master? Where is the King?

From here, the monologue takes a darker turn, as Yorick slowly realises that the King isn’t the only one who’s dead. There are some clever touches, including a revelation about what really happened when Hamlet thought he saw his father’s ghost. Most affecting is Yorick’s yearning for the player he loved when they were both touring performers. Being plucked from obscurity to work at court has proved both a blessing and a curse.

There are some elements that don’t work quite so well, including an extended sequence featuring two audience volunteers – in today’s show, it’s Philip and me. Although we have fun participating, the scene is long and it’s hard to see what it adds to our understanding of the character. It’s introduced as Yorick’s attempt to ‘tell his story’ but I can’t work out how it does that. (It could just be that I missed something. I was a little distracted by the fact that Philip and I were sharing one pair of reading glasses because he’d left his at home.) Structurally, I feel like this comic relief would fit better in the first half hour, as it weakens the deepening tension and unsettling atmosphere of the second act.

Still, there’s a lot here to like, including the sound design, which complements the story well, reflecting Yorick’s state of mind. Now get you to the Pleasance Courtyard; to this favour you must come; Rennie will make you laugh at that.

3.5 stars

Susan Singfield

My English Persian Kitchen

02/08/24

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Some productions appeal to all of the senses. My English Persian Kitchen is a good case in point. As we enter Traverse 2, I’m instantly aware of a wonderful aroma permeating the theatre, an enticing combination of chopped red onion, coriander, garlic and mint. The actor Isabella Nefar stands at a kitchen island cooking a meal – but then the lights change and she speaks directly to the audience, telling us that in her homeland of Iran, women rarely cook – and that far more women than men go to university. But of course, not everything about her homeland is quite so female-friendly.

She begins to prepare an Ash Reshteh, a noodle soup which she explains is an Iranian classic and, as she talks, the food begins to simmer and the fragrances intensify. The character relates her backstory, her marriage to a man she trusts only to discover that she is trapped in an abusive relationship with somebody who wants to control every aspect of her life. With her parents’ help she manages to escape to London and sets about trying to start a new life for herself. She learns ways of fitting in, of adapting to this unfamiliar culture, using food as a means of expressing herself and communicating with others.

But even there, the ghosts of the past still come back to haunt her…

Nefar is an engaging storyteller and Hannah Khalil’s compelling script is augmented by Dan Balfour’s eerie soundscapes and Marty Langthorne’s effective lighting design, past turmoil evoked by a flickering lamp and strategically placed spotlights. Jess-Tucker Boyd’s dynamic movement sequences make even the slicing of an onion look like a life and death struggle. We come to understand that cooking has been the character’s salvation, a way to rekindle the happier years of her childhood and the close bond with the parents who taught her so much.

As the story unfolds and those tantalising smells exert their powers, I am drawn ever deeper into the experience – and I’m delighted when, quite by coincidence, I am chosen to be the first person to taste that Ash Reshteh. It is absolutely delicious and, lest you worry that only one viewer gets to try it, let me reassure you that at the play’s conclusion, the entire audience is welcomed onto the stage to sample it for themselves.

This could so easily be dismissed as a mere gimmick but, in the case of My English Persian Kitchen, written by Khalil and cleverly directed by Chris White, it’s more – much more – than that.

4.1 stars

Philip Caveney

In Two Minds

02/08/24

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Joanne Ryan’s affecting two-hander explores the complex bond between a woman and her mother. Daughter (Karen McCartney) cherishes the tranquility of her minimalist studio apartment, but Mother (Pom Boyd) needs somewhere to stay while she’s having an extension built. Over the course of her protracted visit, their fragile relationship is pushed to breaking point.

It’s not just the accompanying clutter that grates on Daughter’s nerves. It’s the incessant talking, the veiled (and unveiled) criticisms, the sleeplessness – it’s all an intrusion into her hard-won peace. And she feels guilty too, because none of it is Mother’s fault. She has bipolar disorder.

Both Ryan’s script and Sarah Jane Scaife’s direction deftly convey how accustomed the characters are to Mother’s episodes. They’re not fazed; they have been here too many times before. There’s no dramatic reaction to her illness, rather a weary, frustrated sense of here-we-go-again. They know how this plays out and they know what they have to do. Over the years, they’ve learned to protect their relationship by maintaining some distance; forced together, it begins to disintegrate.

Boyd’s performance is flawless. She perfectly captures Mother’s brittle façade: her inability to stop talking, even when she knows that she’ll regret her words; her vibrant exuberance; her torpid misery. McCartney too is utterly convincing, clinging desperately to her career, trying to care for Mother without losing herself.

Alyson Cummings’ set embodies the quietude Daughter craves: simple, unfussy, light and clean. As soon as Mother enters, we can see the disruption she brings, even her kicked-off shoes a reproach to Daughter’s obsessive tidiness.

I’m not usually a fan of lengthy scene transitions and too many props, but Scaife uses them skilfully to illustrate both the passing of time and the steady accumulation of Mother’s belongings. The tension in these moments is further heightened by Rob Moloney’s unsettling sound design.

In Two Minds is a clever play, at once discomfiting and heartwarming. As well as an unflinching examination of the impact of mental illness on the protagonists’ relationship, it’s also a love story of sorts, and sure to be a success at this year’s Fringe.

4.2 stars

Susan Singfield

I Saw the TV Glow

31/07/24

Cameo Cinema, Edinburgh

I Saw the TV Glow, written and directed by Jane Schoenbrun, is a intriguing independent film. It begins in the late 1990s and shares some DNA, I think, with Longlegs, in that it has a powerful sense of disquiet running through its very core, an overpowering sensation that there’s something horribly wrong here, though it’s hard to pinpoint exactly what it is.

Owen (played in the opening sequences by Ian Foreman) is a repressed seventh-grader, living with his mother, Brenda (Danielle Deadwyler), and his strict, overbearing father, Frank (Fred Durst). Owen has been intrigued by trailers he’s seen for a new television show called The Pink Opaque, but it starts at 10.30pm, which is way past his bedtime. At a school event, he bumps into Maddy (Brigette Lundy-Paine) who is reading a book about the show and is clearly obsessed with it. She invites him to stay overnight at her place so he can actually watch an episode and he eagerly grasps the opportunity, telling his parents that he’s having a sleepover with a schoolfriend. The episode he watches blows Owen’s mind and he’s an instant convert to its powers.

The action cuts to two years later. Owen (now played by Justice Smith) still can’t stay up to watch that show. His mother has died from cancer and his uncommunicative father spends his hours alone in his room, watching his own favourite TV programmes. Maddy starts to videotape episodes of The Pink Opaque and leaves them for Owen to pick up, so he can watch them in secret. And then, some years later, the show is cancelled after its fifth season – and Maddy disappears. Owen doesn’t see her again for a decade…

I Saw the TV Glow is a great big metaphor wrapped up in spooky bright pink trappings. It’s clear from the word go that Owen is unsure about who he is. There’s no romance between the two leads: Maddy makes a point of telling him, at their first meeting, that she is ‘into girls’ – though there’s little evidence to suggest she’s into anything aside from that TV series. Owen takes a dead-end job working in the local cinema, but the whole time he’s thinking about The Pink Opaque, about its cast of characters, who seem to know exactly where they belong in the world. After Maddy’s departure he is adrift: alone, forsaken, barely able to function in a world where he feels buried alive.

This film is all about the power of the images we hook into at an early age: the resonance they have in shaping our lives; the overpowering desires we have to be a part of them. Schoenbrun is trans and there are obvious parallels here with her lived experience, but anyone who has been infatuated with something in their youth – or felt like a a misfit – will be able to identify with the undercurrents that bubble away beneath the film’s dark, brooding surfaces. The occasional excerpts we are offered from The Pink Opaque are bizarre, dreamlike sequences, that put me in mind of early David Lynch.

As the years pass, Owen drifts – apparently, he acquires a family of his own, but we’re only told about them, we never see any of his home life. He is still essentially alone and when, years after its demise, he is finally able to stream The Pink Opaque on demand, he is bewildered by what he sees.

This is a compelling, brooding film, that will stay with you long after its heartbreaking conclusion – and Schoenbrun is surely a director to watch.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

Hundreds of Beavers

27/07/24

Amazon Prime

I keep hearing rumours about this film and that it has received a ‘limited theatrical release,’ but can I find a cinema that is actually showing it? No I cannot. And then there it is on Amazon Prime, available to rent for the price of a cup of coffee.

The brainchild of Mike Cheslik and Ryland Brickson Cole Tews, Hundreds of Beavers is a decidedly strange beast, rather like a Loony Tunes cartoon recreated by a few actors wearing animal-themed onesies. It recounts the experiences of nineteenth-century adventurer Jean Kayak (Cole Tews) and takes place mostly in the snow. When we first encounter Kayak, he’s making his living by brewing and selling applejack – though he does appear to be drinking most of it. When his latest booze-up results in him inadvertently blowing up the brewery, he finds himself marooned alone in the frozen North, starving and trying ever more ingenious ways to capture some food. There are plenty of rabbits around (played by the actors’ friends), but boy are they hard to catch!

Think of your average Roadrunner cartoon performed by actual people and you’ll have a vague idea of what this is all about. When Kayak sets his sights on marrying The Furrier (Olivia Graves), her father, The Merchant (Doug Mancheski), demands that Kayak brings him hundreds of beaver pelts before he will grant his blessing – and, advised by The Master Trapper (Wes Tank), Kayak must use every trick in the book in order to trap enough critters to secure his future.

Working with a minuscule budget ($150k) and some pretty basic editing software, the two filmmakers have put together an impressive project, full of wit and invention, though it must be said that the running time of one hour and 48 minutes does result in it feeling rather saggy towards the middle – there’s a good reason why Roadrunner cartoons are only a few minutes long. But the film does regain some much-needed momentum in the final furlong, where Kayak enters the beavers’ damn and is involved in an epic log-flume race pursued by… well, it’s all there in the title.

And there are enough silly situations and absurd twists throughout to keep me laughing along: a Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson beaver duo are a particular highlight and I love the repeated motif of an animated woodpecker that appears every time Kayak whistles.

In the end, this is an endeavour to be admired rather than outright enjoyed. Cheslik and Cole Tew have put together a film, the like of which you’ll never have seen before – and that’s something I rarely get to say. I applaud their invention and, more than anything else, their tenacity. Hundreds of Beavers has been years in the making and I’m glad it’s finally out there for everyone to see.

3.8 stars

Philip Caveney

Deadpool & Wolverine

26/07/24

Cineworld, Edinburgh

The Marvel Cinematic Universe has been going through a bit of a rough patch of late. Since the heady days of the Russo Brothers and The Avengers, where every film seemed to grab the box office by the jugular and shake all the money out, there’s been a distinct lack of focus, an inability to home in on a winning formula. Big changes are pending but, in the meantime, there’s Deadpool & Wolverine, the (ahem) 34th film in the MCU, which, like its two predecessors, is R rated. This means that there are plenty of expletives flying out of the screen and that the extended fight sequences are much bloodier than we might usually expect.

After failing auditions to join The Avengers and The X Men, Deadpool (Ryan Renolds) – or Wade Wilson, to use his off-duty name – has made an attempt to go straight. He now works as a used car salesman, wearing a toupee and favouring Hawaiian shirts in his leisure time. But he’s dragged back into the superhero world by Mr Paradox (Matthew Macfadyen, riffing outrageously on a version of his character from Succession). Paradox works for the Time Variance Authority and is a sort of snarky Dr Who figure. He announces that Wade’s strand of time is deteriorating fast due to the death of Logan – or Wolverine – and that it is all going to come crashing down fairly soon, which means that Wade and his eight friends are going to die.

Unless of course, he can do something about it.

Wade manages to steal Paradox’s tempad and heads into the Marvel Multiverse (as you do), looking for another Wolverine to take Logan’s place. For some inexplicable reason, he settles on the one who’s a miserable alcoholic, who feels he has nothing to live for. Well, things can only get better, right?

It would be pointless to try and relate any more of the plot because, frankly, it’s incoherent, a thinly-veiled excuse for our two heroes to fight with each other (and occasionally enjoy a bit of a bromance) as they travel to a variety of different locations – including one that looks very much as though it’s been ripped off from Mad Max. (Naturally Wade mentions this. “Hey, looks a bit Mad Maxy, huh?”) As they travel, the duo repeatedly break the fourth wall, chatting directly to the audience, dropping references to various franchises, film studios and Marvel characters past and present. Much of this means very little to me (though a bunch of superfans in the screening I’m at laugh uproariously throughout, perhaps to demonstrate how multi-versed they are in all things Marvel.)

There are A LOT of cameo appearances by various actors, some of whom I recognise but most of whom I don’t. And there’s A LOT of fighting. The biggest problem for me with the latter is that the many protracted punch-ups I’m obliged to sit through are rendered utterly pointless by the fact that none of the characters can be killed, which neatly removes any sense of jeopardy there might have been.

It’s not all terrible. I actually chuckle at some of the one-liners and there’s an impressive performance by Emma Corrin as Cassandra Nova, the twin sister of Charles Xavier, who has an unfortunate habit of sticking her hands directly into people’s heads in order to er… read them. Of course, there’s the inevitable, supposedly nail-biting finale as Deadpool and Wolverine attempt to do… something… with a bunch of timey-wimey… things but, by this stage, I’m mostly looking at my watch wondering if the film is ever going to finish.

Maybe it’s just that I ran out of patience with Marvel a long while back, but I’m sure I’m not the only one who wishes that the Multiverse had never been invented. Apart from a couple of glorious animated exceptions, any film that ventures into those uncharted waters appears to founder and sink. That said, this screening is fairly well attended and we’ll see how much money Deadpool & Wolverine manages to pull in.

And we’ll wait to see what comes next. Kevin? Take your time.

3 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

Rope

20/07/24

Theatr Clwyd, Mold

Patrick Hamilton’s 1929 play, loosely based on the Leopold and Loeb murder case of a few years earlier, is these days mostly remembered for Alfred Hitchcock’s 1948 movie adaptation, a film that famously changed the rules of cinema to incorporate its theatrical origins. This ingenious production – by Theatr Clwyd’s resident company – layers Hamilton’s (occasionally quite expository) script with slick movement sequences, which are mostly used to indicate the deteriorating psychological state of one of its protagonists.

Jack Hammett (Wyndham Brandon) and his partner in crime, Granillo (Chorag Benedict Lobo), have kidnapped and murdered a young colleague, using that titular length of rope to strangle him – for no reason other than to see if they can get away with it. This isn’t a spoiler, by the way, because at the play’s start we witness the two of them placing their victim’s body into a trunk which stands centre stage throughout. Hamilton’s play isn’t so much a ‘whodunnit?’ as a ‘will-they-get-away-with-it?’

The smug and confident Hammett and the highly-strung Granillo have carried out the murder as a way of demonstrating their superiority over the rest of humanity – Hammett is a devoted reader of Nietzche – and, to further elaborate their point, they have planned to throw a little party for an odd assortment of guests, one of whom is Sir Johnstone Kentley (Keiron Self), the murdered boy’s father. The trunk will be used in place of a table to serve food and drink and Hammett will even jokingly tell his guests that it contains a dead body.

The play opens in almost total darkness, the two criminals making their plans by the light of matches, while the rest of the cast are already onstage, silent witnesses to their conversation. The party ensues and the guests enter one by one, greeted by the central duo’s faithful butler, Sabot (Felipe Pacheco), who knows nothing about the crime. The visitors include the nice but ineffectual Kenneth (Rhys Warrington) and chatty socialite Leila (Emily Burnett). Of course, there’s always one guest at a party who overstays his welcome and in this case it’s Rupert Cadell (Tim Pritchett), who has been around the block a few times and whose suspicions have been aroused. He’s clearly keen to have a look at the contents of that trunk…

This is an inventive production that explores the possibilities of the original play with flair. If it’s not entirely sure of itself in the first half, it certainly gathers strength in the second and I love the closing stretches where the compact performance space is steadily stripped bare of hiding places, the cruel intentions of the murderers finally exposed to the cold light of day.

Brandon is particularly impressive as the callous and self-possessed Hammett, a man so convinced of his own genius that he’s prepared to risk everything to prove a point. And I particularly enjoy Emily Pithon’s portrayal of Mrs Debenham, who makes the most of a tricky role which only offers her the occasional line and a series of sardonic expressions. Frances Goodridge directs the piece with skill and movement director Jess Williams’ Frantic Assembly-style sequences add verve and vigour to the proceedings.

Rope is an assured and intriguing piece of theatre, a slow burner that steadily builds to a powerful blaze.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney