Edfringe

The Trials of Galileo

08/08/23

Greenside @ Infirmary Street (Mint Studio), Edinburgh

Veteran actor Tim Hardy is never less than excellent. Tucked away in this unassuming studio on Infirmary Street, his latest Fringe performance arrives without fanfare, but his reputation clearly precedes him: there isn’t a spare seat in the house. Of course, Galileo might have something to do with it too. It’s a cleverly chosen topic, curiously apposite in these post-truth times.

Written and directed by Nic Young, The Trials of Galileo is an insightful piece, illuminating a specific historical event, as well as the human and systemic failings that caused it. That event, of course, is the Roman Catholic Inquisition’s persecution of astronomer Galileo Galilei, in response to his assertion that the Earth revolves around the sun – contrary to the scriptures and therefore heresy. The great scientist’s frustration is palpable and compelling; it’s impossible not to wince as he does what surely most of us would do when threatened with torture, namely swallow down our fury and deny the truth we know. The description of that torture is horrifying, a stark and terrible reminder of what people are prepared to do to one another to stoke their egos or preserve their power.

Young’s words are finely-crafted, and Hardy knows how to give them weight, to cast light on the ridiculousness of Galileo’s situation: a great mind, forced to capitulate to those far stupider than he. How many people have suffered because of the blind faith religions (and quasi-religions, like Trumpism) demand, because inconvenient truths are hard to hear?

The biggest tragedy isn’t that Galileo was silenced; it’s that nothing much seems to have changed.

4.5 stars

Susan

Adults

06/08/23

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Zara (Dani Heron) has got things sorted, or as sorted as they can be, given the current state of the world. Admittedly, being a sex worker isn’t exactly living the dream, but her brothel is an ethical one – run as a workers’ collective – and she’s proud of the judgement-free service she and her colleague, Jay (Anders Hayward) provide. But still, it’s more than a little awkward when a new customer turns out to be her old teacher…

Mr Urquhart, or Iain (Conleth Hill), isn’t best pleased either. He was nervous anyway, and now he’s scared and embarrassed; he feels exposed. He’s only here to see if acting on his vague attraction to young men might help alleviate his misery, because he can’t go on as he is, hopeless and desperate, sick of his job, his marriage, even his kids…

As if the classroom reminiscences weren’t cringey enough, when Jay turns up – late – he’s got his baby daughter in tow. How can any of them collude in building a fantasy, when reality keeps intruding?

I’ve been a fan of playwright Kieran Hurley’s work since I saw Chalk Farm way back in 2013. He can always be relied upon to offer witty, thought-provoking material, with relatable, convincing characters, and Adults proves this once again. Both Zara’s skittish bravado and Jay’s reckless desperation are perfectly captured by Heron and Hayward, but it’s Hill’s depiction of Iain’s self-loathing and defensiveness that drives the piece. He’s done everything right, hasn’t he? So why does it all feel so wrong?

Directed by Roxanna Silbert, Adults has a stillness at its core, leading the audience to really listen, to hear what all three characters say, to see them for the complex, fascinating people they are. We’re all doomed, the message seems to be, so we might as well try to offer each other a bit of comfort while we can. Every generation will blame the one that’s gone before; it’s the way of the world. And every generation will fuck things up in their turn; we never manage to create that ‘better world’ we always say we want for our kids. It’s tragic – but here it’s belly-laugh funny too.

Sharp, incisive and hugely entertaining, Adults is another must-see offering from 2023’s TravFest.

4.4 stars

Susan Singfield

Boy

20/08/22

Summerhall (Main Hall), Edinburgh

1966: Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. Twin babies Bruce and Brian Reimer are both diagnosed with phimosis. Circumcision is recommended. Their doctor chooses a new and unconventional method: electrocauterization. Bruce is up first.

And the procedure goes horribly, shockingly wrong. Bruce’s penis is damaged beyond repair.

Brian is spared. His phimosis is left to resolve itself naturally. Which it does.

The twins’ parents, Janet and Ron, are distraught. So when Harvard-educated psychologist John Money recommends gender reassignment, they are soon persuaded. ‘Brenda’ won’t remember being Bruce, Dr Money says; it’s a simple matter of surgery and hormones…

Writer/director Carly Wijs draws on this tragic true story to create a thoughtful drama, exploring the very topical subject of gender identity, illuminating the age-old nature/nurture debate. It’s sensitively done – socratic rather than didactic – and it’s impossible not to feel emotionally involved.

Actors Vanja Maria Godée and Jeroen van der Ven play Janet and Ron respectively, and also act as narrators, using a range of cuddly toys as stand-ins for the other characters. This technique is oddly affecting, highlighting the family’s innocence, while also suggesting that the very act of telling their story is ‘play therapy’ for the troubled pair. The set, by Stef Stessel, is wonderfully effective in its simplicity: a wheeled ‘wall’ draped with a light blue cloth, suggestive of a waterfall, spans almost the whole width of the stage, and there’s a stunning moment of revelation towards the end of the piece. Both Godée and van der Ven are immensely likeable performers; their gentleness and vulnerability ensure we’re on their side. Janet and Ron are victims of a man so caught up in his own theories that he’s stopped seeing the humanity of those he’s experimenting on.

Because Brenda is a very unhappy child. She doesn’t like the constrictions that come with being a girl; she doesn’t want to wear dresses or learn to sew; she wants to climb trees and fight and run with the boys. Is this because she is a boy, or would a cis-Brenda feel the same frustrations? We’ll never know. What we do know, unequivocally, is that it can’t be right for someone else to have made such a momentous decision for baby Bruce: to have compounded his initial mutilation with surgical castration, testosterone blockers and oestrogen – and to have concealed this fact from him. It’s his body; his choice. And the repercussions are devastating…

Despite its harrowing subject matter, Boy is a tender, poignant tale, told with real heart. This is experimental theatre-making at its best.

4.8 stars

Susan Singfield