Sean and Daro: Flake It ‘Til They Make It

06/08/23

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Due to circumstances beyond our control, we missed Sean and Daro on its initial release, so we’re delighted to discover it’s having a further run at TravFest 23. And deservedly so. This sprightly tale of two young Glaswegians seeking to become ice cream entrepreneurs finds a delicious sweet spot between comedy and tragedy – and runs with it. And any play that begins with an ode to the wonders of ice cream gets my vote any day of the week.

At his mum’s funeral, the moody and introspective Sean (Sean Connor) bumps into his old pal, Daro (Cameron Fulton), whom he’s lost touch with since going to Uni. Daro is the epitome of the unreliable best friend, the one your mum warns you about: full of ambition and hubris, but lacking anything with which to back it up. But he can talk like nobody’s business. Despite the solemness of the occasion, he’s soon persuaded Sean to use his inheritance – his mother’s flat – as collateral in a new shared enterprise. Together, they will become The Whippy Brothers, joint owners of an ice cream van. They will take to the highways and byways of Glasgow and make a proper killing, selling their sweet-tasting goods to all and sundry. After all, that’s how Duncan Bannatyne started, right?

But the road to success is a distinctly bumpy one – and there are plenty of obstacles they’ll need to navigate on their way…

Laurie Motherwell’s script is packed with hilarious observations and some moments of genuine pathos. Robert Softly Gale handles the direction with skill, giving the eponymous duo plenty of scope to interact with Karen Tennent’s simple but effective set. Connor and Fulton do not so much play their roles as inhabit them. As the spectacularly mismatched pals, they make a brilliant double act.

Anybody looking to leave their worries at the theatre door should seek out Sean and Daro without further delay. This isn’t just a plain cone – it’s served with a flake, a generous dash of sauce and extra hundreds and thousands on top.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

The Ballad of Truman Capote

05/08/23

theSpace at Niddry Street (Upper Theatre), Edinburgh

It’s 1966 and in New York’s swish Plaza Hotel, notorious author Truman Capote prepares to host a masked Black and White Ball, an occasion that will be attended by the most illustrious stars of the era. As he prepares himself for the evening, Capote muses about his life, his career and the critical reaction to his latest publication – a book that has launched him into literary superstardom and, at the same time, effectively ruined him.

Patrick Moy offers an uncanny impersonation of Capote, capturing the man’s strange lisping voice and effete mannerisms with aplomb. He parades restlessly around his hotel room, punctuating his observations with regular screwdriver cocktails and petulantly reading extracts from cruel reviews of In Cold Blood.

Andrew O’Hagan’s lyrical monologue offers us a glimpse into the titular character’s bizarre childhood and his curious relationship with fellow author, Harper Lee, but occasionally feels a little too dependent on name-dropping. Frank Sinatra, Marlon Brando, Marilyn Monroe and er…Princess Margaret? It’s like a Who’s Who of the 1960s and all these people are dancing to Capote’s tune.

But while we hear all about these luminaries, we never see them. Capote remains imperiously alone in his room, fielding telephone calls and gradually succumbing to the effects of alcohol as he relishes what will be his last moment of true power. It’s a curiously tantalising piece and I can’t be the only one wishing I could stay on to watch the delicious carnage that will ensue. 

Fans of Mr Capote – and there are many – are sure to enjoy Moy’s pitch-perfect performance, while O’Hagan’s script, though it lacks conflict, manages to effectively capture a significant moment in American history.

3 stars

Philip Caveney

Lady Dealer

05/08/23

Roundabout at Summerhall, Edinburgh

Charly (Alexa Davies) is fine… Okay, so she hasn’t got any friends, she never gets out of bed before noon, her girlfriend has left her and, although her chosen career pays well, her mum can’t help thinking that drug-dealing is a waste of her Oxbridge degree. Still, honestly, she’s fine.

But a power cut means she’s forced to sit in silence without the Beastie Boys to distract her, and she can’t charge her phones so her customers are unable to contact her. Now we see just how fragile Charly’s mental health really is. She embodies the word ‘brittle’ – sure, she presents a tough front with all that swagger, but oh, she shatters so easily. The minor change to her routine brings everything crashing down…

Written by Martha Watson Allpress, this rhyming monologue is a frenetic exploration of a character in crisis. It’s a novel idea: we’re used to seeing dealers depicted as baddies; we’re rarely invited to empathise with them. Here, Watson Allpress shows us how Charly found her path, how damaged and desperate she is. A little kindness is all it would take to change her life…

Roundabout’s small circular stage is dominated by three large speakers, creating a wall of sound and emphasising the narrow parameters of Charly’s world. Emily Aboud’s direction is as kinetic as the chaos in Charly’s mind: Davies circles the stage, pacing, her frantic thoughts made manifest.

The hour’s performance flashes by.

4.2 stars

Susan Singfield

Tink

05/08/23

Underbelly Bristo Square (Clover), Edinburgh

In this coming of age tale, a thoroughly modern Tink navigates the awkwardness of adolescence. This sassy young fairy is very different from that other Tinkerbell’s pal, Peter – she definitely wants to grow up. What she doesn’t want is to follow the trajectory of most fairies, getting smaller and smaller as she ages, until all her lovely light goes out. “I’m going to stay big forever,” she declares, aged five, picking up her guitar and delighting us with a song. She’s an accomplished player.

But of course, not even fairies are immune to the toxic messages imparted by the patriarchy, and teenage fairies struggle just as much as human girls when the whole world seems intent on diminishing their verve.

Wittily performed by Kat Kleve (who also wrote the songs), Tink is a charming piece. Kleve has a lovely singing voice and I’m glad she’s not prepared to shrink, to hide her light under a bushel and pretend she’s not as brilliant as she is.

Co-writer and director Lizzy Connolly has forged a dynamic piece, making impressive use of the tiny space. The staging is very detailed and precise: I’m in the front row so I can see the intricacy of the beautifully sewn costume and the convincing magazine mock-up. The hanging bulbs are simple but effective, evocative of a fairy glen, as well as providing literal reminders of the metaphorical dimming that occurs every time Tink’s exuberance is quashed. 

There’s a little of Greta Gerwig’s Barbie about Tink, the same heady mixture of celebration and critique. Gen Z women are showing us that fairies and feminism can co-exist. It’s an exciting revelation, and this is a gently empowering show.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Wiesenthal

05/08/23

Pleasance Courtyard (Beneath), Edinburgh

Simon Wiesenthal is remembered as the infamous ‘Nazi hunter’ – the man chiefly responsible for bringing more than a thousand former members of the Third Reich to justice in the years following the Second World War. In this compelling monologue, written by Tom Dugan, we meet up with the titular character at an auspicious time: on his final day of work before his retirement. In a small, cluttered office, he shares some of his experiences. They range from the sweetly uplifting to the downright harrowing.

Christopher C Gibbs performs the piece with absolute authority, guiding us into Wiesenthal’s life and taking us through the many experiences that brought him to where he is now, still hoping to close his latest case before finally calling it a day. He is at times avuncular, charming, sharing a little joke, or a cannily constructed observation. At other times, we are aware of the righteous anger simmering within him, his outrage at the injustice that was systematically dealt out to an entire race of people.

At several points in this narrative, I’m aware of my eyes filling with tears and I’m powerless to stop them from flowing. But it’s by no means an ordeal. Dugan’s script is skilfully constructed, knowing just when to step back from the horror and when to unleash it. Indeed, what emerges most strongly is the central character’s sense of balance, his acceptance that evil happens and that we do not go after it with vengeance in mind, but with the supreme conviction that everyone must made to answer for their crimes. He also implores us never to forget and to guard against those world leaders who increasingly threaten to take us back down the same path.

Despite the gravity of the subject this is a strangely uplifting story of courage and tenacity, which makes for a riveting theatrical experience. It’s clear from the heartfelt intensity of the applause at the play’s conclusion that the entire audience feels the same way.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

Chelsea Hart – Damet Garm: How I Joined a Revolution

04/08/23

Gilded Balloon Teviot – Sportsmans, Edinburgh

Chelsea Hart makes TikTok videos. It’s what they do. So they were taken by surprise when one of their posts went viral in Iran, sparking the kind of fame they never expected to have. After all, it’s not every day you accidentally join a revolution.

Hart is undoubtedly a born performer. Despite their slender frame, they have a huge presence, prowling the small stage. They’re compelling – I can’t look away, and it feels as if they are making eye contact with me almost the whole time. (I wonder if the rest of the audience experiences a similar sensation; is it the same trick as a portrait whose eyes follow you around a room?)

The material is wide-ranging, incorporating – among other things – tales of life in a small Alaskan town, revelations about Iranian culture, trans rights, opera, suicide, dick jokes, abortion and British sarcasm. There is a lot to unpack. In fact, there’s so much here that it’s almost to the show’s detriment: the whole thing feels scattershot and it’s hard to find the through-line that links it all together. There are analogies to be drawn, but they’re lost in the flurry. I think the structure could do with a little work: a stronger arc would lend the shocking ending more impact. I’d also like them to have shown us the original TikTok videos that brought them to the attention of the Iranians, to provide us with something concrete to establish the premise.

That’s not to say this doesn’t work. It does. It’s original and provocative: Hart has great energy and real, well, heart. They are expressive and engaging, exuding both confidence and vulnerability, and their outlook on life is genuinely inspiring. The show’s message is a fine one too: let’s learn from the united liberation movement the Iranian women are leading, and stop being so individualistic. Imagine what we could achieve if we all actually worked together, striving for something good.

3.3 stars

Susan Singfield

The Baron and the Junk Dealer

03/08/23

Assembly Roxy, Edinburgh

Okay, so the Festival doesn’t officially start until the 4th, but it would seem rude not to fit in an extra show when it’s right there for the seeing. The Baron and The Junk Dealer comes from the team behind The George Lucas Talk Show and concerns the adventures of two mysterious fugitives, who are the only survivors of a disastrous crash-landing on a desolate planet. It’s the kind of premise that traditionally calls for a decent production budget but this is the Fringe, and the charming shonkiness of the props somehow works in its favour. A ‘rescue pod’ which is actually an adapted one-person tent, operated by a stagehand, is a particular delight.

The Baron (Connor Ratliff) is a self-important sort, who dresses like a cross between an archbishop and a death metal guitarist. By contrast, the Junk Dealer (Griffin Newman) is twitchy and paranoid, liable to kick off at the slightest thing – and considering the two of them have virtually no provisions, he kicks off quite a lot. It’s also clear from the outset that both characters are hiding something about their respective pasts. As the two men wait for rescue a sort of Godot-like atmosphere prevails.

The snarky, deadpan script, written by Ratfliff, incorporates some interesting twists and turns, and makes wry observations about the nature of storytelling. It’s by turns acidly funny and thought-provoking.

However, as this is a play where we need to hear every word clearly, it’s a shame that Newman is hampered by a novelty elephantine nose, which hangs in front of his mouth and sometimes obscures what he’s saying. The acoustics are further impeded by a noisy air-conditioning unit.

Despite these reservations, I thoroughly enjoy the play and its clever observations. Fans of science fiction in particular will find this play suitably diverting and, for a non-believer like me, BATDD makes for an interesting and unusual start to Fringe 2023.

3. 2 stars

Philip Caveney

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem

02/08/23

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Those sewer-dwelling, pizza-devouring ‘heroes in a hard-shell’ return to the big screen, courtesy of Seth Rogen and his team and it’s clear from the outset that the key word here is Teenage. The word Ninja has also been reinstated – those in the UK with long memories may recall that, for a while, Hero was used as a replacement. How times change. This film only has a PG certificate but it doesn’t hold back on the violence – and clearly the message isn’t getting through. The afternoon screening I attend features quite a few parents trying to handle confused-looking children, who clearly aren’t sure what to make of what’s happening up on the big screen.

TMNT:MM begins with a pre-credit sequence explaining the origin stories of Leonardo (Nicholas Cantu), Donatello (Micah Abbey), Michelangelo (Shamon Brown Jr) and Raphael (Brady Noon). They begin life as part of a disrupted science experiment, and are accidentally flushed down the drain into the sewers. (We’ve all been there.) Down in those malodorous depths they are adopted by friendly rat, Master Splinter (Jackie Chan), who is also affected by the chemicals they’ve absorbed and, like them, grows to be bigger than he should be. After a disastrous attempt to introduce his ‘family’ to human society, Splinter decides that people aren’t quite ready to embrace something so different so he keeps the foursome hidden below ground – but he does give them intensive martial arts training.

Now they are teenagers and itching to be out in the real world, where they can chase after girls and watch Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (it’s pretty clear what decade we’re in). When they see teenager April (Ayo Edebiri) being robbed of her scooter, they cannot stop themselves from helping her out, swinging into action and despatching a whole gang of tough customers with ease. But this starts a complex chain of events that will eventually lead to them taking on mutant master villain, Superfly (Ice Cube), who has dedicated himself to the task of eradicating human life from the face of the planet.

The first thing to say here is that the animation style is ravishing, borrowing some of its look from the Spider-Man animations, perhaps, but adding its own expressionistic dazzle into the process. Occasionally, the four heroes have the solidity of stop-frame animation characters; at other times, they are more fluid, more experimental – and there’s even a delightful childhood experience rendered as crayons on paper. Co-directors Jeff Rowe (of The Mitchells Versus the Machines) and Kyler Spears attempt to keep everything coherent and mostly succeed.

The script, written by Rogan and Evan Goldberg (in collaboration with several others), is obsessed with the horrors of puberty and never misses the opportunity to go for cheap belly laughs. (Want to see somebody puking uncontrollably? It’s here.) This occasionally feels like a bunch of older guys desperately trying to reconnect with their own teenage years and, inevitably, not all of the quips hit their targets as solidly as they might. It’s also true that some of the action sequences – particularly an extended set piece towards the film’s conclusion – are a little muddled at times. Who’s hitting who? With what? And… why?

Reservations aside, I have a lot of fun with this, despite the fact that I’m not a former Turtles fan and barely gave them a glance back in the 80s. It has some interesting points to make about inclusivity but it doesn’t hammer me over the head with them. However, those looking to entertain little ‘uns in the school break should be warned: unless you want to explain a giant rat snogging an enormous cockroach, this may not be the film you’re looking for. Just saying.

Oh yes, stay in your seats for the post-credit bit, which seems to suggest a follow-up is in the works.

3.7 stars

Philip Caveney

Talk To Me

29/07/23

Cineworld, Edinburgh

So which other film is prepared to stick its head above the parapet in week two of Barbenheimer? Come on, who thinks they’re hard enough?

Talk To Me, the debut feature of former YouTubers Danny and Michael Philipouhails, hails from Australia, where presumably they’re so fearless they don’t give a damn about the opposition. It starts like most generic teen-terror flicks, but promptly ventures to some unexpected places, pushing its 15 certificate about as far as it can in the process.

The film starts with a short sharp shock: something bad happens at a party. We’re not really given much explanation for it, but that comes later. First, we’re introduced to Mia (Sophie Wilde), who after her mother’s suicide, is feeling disconnected from her father, Max (Marcus Johnson). She’s consequently spending a lot of her time with her best mate, Jade (Alexandra Jensen), and her younger brother, Riley (Joe Bird), watched over by Jade’s mother, Sue (Miranda Otto). The two girls keep seeing some weird footage online posted by a couple of mutual friends, scenes of people seemingly ‘possessed’ at parties and going berserk. Being teenagers, they can’t resist giving it a whirl themselves and, when Riley asks if he can go along, they reluctantly agree.

Soon enough, the three of them are at the party, where Jess (Chris Alosio) and Hayley (Zoe Terakes) bring out a stone hand they’ve ‘acquired.’ One of the guests is invited to take a firm grip of it and say three words (the clue’s in the title), whereupon something rather creepy is sure to ensue.

And of course, Mia volunteers to go first….

That’s all I have to say about the plot, except that it feels like a parable about drugs: how people might be tempted to try them out of curiosity and then decide that they want just one more hit – and how that compulsion might lead them to some very dark places. Those of a squeamish nature should be warned that, as well as enduring psychological damage, some of the characters are subjected to wince-making physical injuries, so this is definitely not for the faint-hearted. The sense of mounting dread is there from the beginning and steadily cranks up as the film progresses, but the weird happenings are never allowed to get too silly, or too unbelievable.

Talk To Me keeps me hooked right to the end and sends me out thinking about what I’ve just witnessed. Co-written by Danny Philippou and Bill Hinzman, the story is based on a concept by er… ten other people, which means, I think, that it was created collaboratively.

It’s a wonder it’s turned out as smoothly as it has but, if you enjoy a decent fright film, this offering should fit the bill nicely.

4.1 stars

Philip Caveney

Bring It On

28/07/23

Festival Theatre, Edinburgh

If there’s one word that typifies the Beyond Broadway Experience it’s ‘exhilarating’. This revival of the cheerleader musical Bring It On (loosely based on the film of the same name) may be the most spectacular of their productions we’ve seen yet, with over 250 young performers dancing, singing and acting and even somersaulting across the Festival theatre’s massive stage. At regular intervals they also perform in the boxes and even in the auditorium. Between them, they generate enough energy to power the national grid.

Campbell (Ailsa MacLean) is a high school girl, who lives and breathes for cheerleading. Longing to be appointed captain of the accomplished Truman High School squad, she works alongside her pals, the self-obsessed Skylar (Cora Erskine) and her acolyte, Kylar (Jess Taylor). Meanwhile, the hapless Bridget (Ellen Ekland) keeps on trying out for the team, but she’s currently relegated to the role of Truman’s team mascot, complete with comedy costume.

Campbell’s hopes are cruelly dashed when she finds herself despatched to another local school, an entirely different institution from the bastion of privilege that is Truman. At Jackson High, the very idea of cheerleading is looked on with derision. The only other student from Truman to make the transition to Jackson is Bridget, who is delighted to find that she’s actually popular here. Not so Campbell. The ‘crew’ at Jackson, it turns out, have their own way of dancing and are happy to demonstrate how they think it should be done.

Undeterred, Campbell sets about befriending Jackson’s Queen Bee, Danielle (Rhianna Daley), eventually persuading her to set up their own cheerleading squad and even to go in for the National Finals. However, in order to win Danielle over, Campbell makes some pretty wild claims about the prizes that will be up for grabs, including some much-needed scholarships. And then the truth comes out…

There are some terrific performances here. MacLean has a soaring vocal range and Eklund’s assured clowning is a constant delight. I also enjoy the dorky Randal (Duncan Brown)’s impressive vocal performance but, more than anything else, this is an ensemble piece, and hats must be lifted to the choreography team, who have drilled their massive cast to perfection, enabling them to perform in thrilling, powerhouse set pieces that threaten to lift the roof of the building. The sizeable band show a lot of skill, and pump out the gutsy music with elan.

While this is an amateur production, the boundless talent and supreme dedication displayed by these young performers seems to render the word meaningless. Bring It On is, quite simply, a thrill ride.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney