Edfringe 26

The Longer My Mother Is Dead, The More I Like Her

12/08/26

Greenside (Olive Studio), George Street, Edinburgh

We arrive at Greenside’s George Street venue a little early, so I can’t resist FaceTiming my mum to get her reaction to the poster of the show we’re about to see. Consequently, I take my seat with her laughter still sounding in my ears, a salient reminder of how lucky I am that my relationship with my mum is so straightforward. We have a lot in common; we enjoy each other’s company; I love her – and she loves me.

Deborah Unger, on the other hand, has a lot more to work through. In this autobiographical piece, she shares her lifelong battle to understand her mother, to come to terms with the complex dynamics of their bond. Because resolution matters – even if her mom’s already dead.

Unger switches between the roles of mother and daughter with practised ease, simply raising her glasses when she’s being herself, and peering through them when she’s being her mom. Sitting on a black box, legs dangling, she takes us back in time to when she’s five years old. Mom is clearly a difficult woman – moody and hard to predict, veering from hot to cold. But young Deborah admires her: she’s uncompromising, secretive, bold and brave, steering her family across continents for her husband’s military career.

There are a lot of threads to this story, and some of them are left dangling, which I find a little frustrating. Nonetheless, TLMMIDTMILH is an interesting exploration of the ties that bind, and there’s something very heartwarming about Unger’s realisation that she is, in fact, very similar to her mom.

3 stars

Susan Singfield

Penelope

11/08/26

Underbelly Cowgate (Belly Button), Edinburgh

As we file into the dank gloomy confines of Belly Button, Penelope (Grace McLean) is already sitting on a stool, awaiting us with the patient air of somebody who is well acquainted with biding time. As anyone who’s read Homer – or watched Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey – will be aware, Penelope has been waiting for twenty years for her husband Odysseus to return from his travels. While he’s off battling a Cyclops and negotiating the Clashing Rocks, she’s stuck at home doing some weaving. As you might imagine, she’s getting pretty bored with the process.

As the lights go down, three musicians file in to provide the musical soundtrack. Alex Bechtel, who wrote the music and lyrics, takes a seat at the keyboards and he’s joined by a cello player and a drummer. The sound they create is moody and haunting – and then McLean begins to sing a mournful, soaring ballad. It’s evident after just a few bars that she has an extraordinary voice.

From this point, the story progresses through a wide range of musical styles, sometimes solemn, sometimes frivolous, occasionally edging toward rock. Penelope gets through quite a lot of alcohol as she delivers her tale of woe and, of course, it’s always interesting to hear the story from a different perspective: a woman who was always her husband’s second choice after the legendary Helen; a woman dealing with a son growing into manhood; a woman resisting the advances of those predatory suitors, who are constantly seeking ways to break down her determination not to remarry. We’ve all been there.

For me, the high point in this hour-long musical extravaganza is a lengthy conversation with Pallas Athene, whose voice is supplied by the three musicians talking in unison. It’s interesting to note that the Goddess offers very little in the way of answers.

This is an assured hour of musical theatre, directed by co-creator Eva Stenmetz and impeccably delivered by the four performers. You don’t have to know The Odyssey – or even Margaret Atwood’s The Penelopiad – but it might help to be familiar with the original story.

Or maybe just trot along to Belly Button and soak it all up.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Goodbye Dandelion

10/08/26

Underbelly Cowgate (Belly Dancer), Edinburgh

It turns out assisted dying is a hot topic at this year’s Fringe. A mere five days in and, not only is this the second show we’ve seen about it, but there’s someone waiting outside with flyers for another one “dealing with the same issues”. Euthanasia, it seems, is in.

But if the theme is redolent of the Traverse production we saw yesterday, the form could hardly be more different. While After Party is a raucous two-act play, Goodbye Dandelion is an altogether gentler affair – a whimsical hour of musical storytelling, charting Maddie Rice’s friendship with the titular Dandelion, aka octogenarian Darcy O’Shea.

Thirty-something Maddie is feeling a bit lost. There’s nothing wrong exactly: she has a steady job, a caring boyfriend, an agreeable flatmate. It’s just… shouldn’t there be something more? When she sees an advert for Run-Relate, she thinks it might be the spur she needs. Simultaneously improving her fitness and helping a lonely pensioner; surely that’ll make her feel fulfilled?

But things don’t go as Maddie expects. For one thing, it turns out she hates running. And for another, Darcy doesn’t want her help. Still, as their spiky, unlikely friendship develops, it’s clear the benefits are mutual. Until, that is, Darcy tells Maddie her deepest, darkest wish…

Maddie narrates her tale with an engaging openness, the language simple but compelling. Her brother, Marcus, provides musical accompaniment and wry asides, knowing exactly when to undercut the more sentimental moments with a witty song or some salient statistics. Everybody Dies is easily my favourite number; who knew a song about death’s inevitability could make an entire audience laugh out loud?

Although it’s about dying, this charming, clever show is ultimately life-affirming. There’s no bold ‘seize the day’ message, no cloying, fridge-magnet platitude. Instead, there’s a clear-eyed, honest appraisal of what it means to live.

4.6 stars

Susan Singfield