Edinburgh 2019

Ripped

15/08/19

Underbelly Cowgate (Belly Laugh), Edinburgh

‘Jack’ has an all-consuming mission – to turn himself into a ‘real’ man. You know what I mean by that… bulging biceps, a rock-hard six-pack, the ability to face down any adversary and come out on top.

With this is mind, he’s spending a lot of time down the gym, lifting weights, doing push-ups. He models himself on Rambo (‘don’t push it or I’ll give you a war you won’t believe’), and he dreams about having the authority to make other men step aside. At the gym, he meets Max, a weightlifter, and the two of them hit it off. Pretty soon, Jack is running with his new friend’s gang, drinking Stella, snorting lines of coke and immersing himself in a foetid stew of toxic masculinity. But, as the story unfolds, we begin to realise that something bad has happened to Jack, back when he was just some skinny kid called Jamie – something that, try as he might, he cannot banish from his mind. Something that haunts him. Something that is destroying him.

Ripped is a monologue, written and performed by Alex Gwyther and direct by Max Lindsay. It’s a play that tackles a subject that few dramatists are prepared to take on, because the subject is so taboo. But here male rape is confronted head on, and laid bare in all its unspeakable horror.

Not only is this a beautifully written piece, one that walks a perilous tightrope between dark comedy and outright shock, but it also features a performance so powerful and compelling that I find myself riveted by it. I’m clearly not alone. Gwyther receives an impassioned standing ovation at the play’s conclusion.

I cannot promise that you’ll enjoy this play, but it positively demands to be seen. And I have just one more word to add to this review.

Wow.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

 

 

Will Duggan: Class Two

14/08/19

Pleasance Courtyard (Bunker), Edinburgh

In the great gamble of the Edinburgh Fringe, location is all important. Comedian Will Duggan has somehow wound up in the unprepossessing Bunker, a grim sweatbox a short stroll from the Grand. Even in the current showery weather conditions, it feels disagreeably sticky, despite the presence of an air conditioning unit chugging gamely along on the sidelines. It doesn’t help that the guy on the door instructs us not to occupy the front row, which leaves Duggan with the discouraging prospect of a line of empty seats right in front of him. He gives it his best shot though, pitching himself as a perennial loser and getting the audience firmly on his side.

This is mostly about the poor decisions he’s made throughout his career. He always believed he was destined for greatness but now finds himself positioned in the middle ranks of the comedy circuit and wondering how he might take the next big step up. He tells us about the four (imaginary) childhood friends who guided him through the hard times and whom he hasn’t spoken to for twenty-five years. Perhaps they can help him make sense of it all.

Duggan is an affable chap with an engaging line of patter and a self-deprecating honesty. Today, he seems a little rushed, hurrying through his routine. I’d like to see him take his foot off the accelerator and cruise a little more, giving his one-liners more time to connect. I enjoy his story about learning sign language, but am rather less impressed when he reveals the reasoning behind it – and the sequence where he recreates his end-of-term school concert appearance might have been even funnier (and braver) if it were conducted in total silence.

Still, grim venue and lousy weather notwithstanding, Duggan is a comedian we’ll try to catch again the future – hopefully in a more agreeable setting.

3.4 stars

Philip Caveney

 

Sexy Lamp

14/08/19

Pleasance Courtyard (Baby Grand), Edinburgh

I know I’m going to like this show as soon as I enter the room, and am offered a rhubarb and custard boiled sweet. There’s a huge jar of them being passed around, while Katie Arnstein – the writer/performer responsible – sits on stage, dressed in a leopard-print dressing gown, with a lampshade on her head. A quirky, inclusive atmosphere is established even before we have begun.

In some ways, Sexy Lamp could be dismissed as – yawn – yet another monologue about an actor struggling to cope, which is certainly a popular theme at this year’s Fringe. But this piece is so charming and well-crafted that it’s impossible not to warm to it – and it’s outward-looking too. Arnstein doesn’t just tell us about how she‘s dealt with her problems: she opens up her outrage; this is a call to arms.

Arnstein is immensely likeable. As she sheds the lampshade, she expounds Kelly Sue DeConnick’s theory about movies and plays: if there’s a scene where a woman can be replaced with a sexy lamp without derailing the plot, this indicates that something is awry.

From here, we learn about Arnstein’s childhood dream to be an actor – or, more specifically, to be Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. That first young impulse stays with her, and leads her to drama school, then out into the world as an actor seeking work. And then, to her horror, exposes her to the unspeakable sexism rife in the industry.

To Arnstein’s credit, this never feels self-indulgent. Her indignation is real and justified, and presented with a clear understanding of how to win over an audience. Her feminism is expressed through witty songs (self-accompanied on the ukulele) and delivered with bags of natural charisma. As she struggles to assert herself, to define her own parameters, she sends a clear message to all of us: even in such a competitive industry, acquiescence is not always worth it; sometimes it’s better to say ‘no’ than it is to say ‘yes, and…’

4.6 stars

Susan Singfield

Daliso Chaponda: Blah Blah Blacklist

13/08/19

Gilded Balloon Teviot (Wine Bar), Edinburgh

A heads-up for readers new to Bouquets & Brickbats: Daliso Chaponda is a friend. We don’t usually review our mates’ work (waaaay too awkward), but we transgressed this unwritten rule a long time ago with Daliso, so it seems silly to stop now. Especially when there’s so much to say about his latest show.

Blah Blah Blacklist is deceptively genial: the tone is light, but there’s a controversial undercurrent. The show is about our reactions to fallen heroes: do we need to ‘cancel’ them or can we continue to enjoy their work whilst despising what they’ve done?

But it’s about more than that too. Daliso is an advocate for nuance: Bill Cosby’s criminal activities are beyond the pale, but maybe Louis CK can be redeemed? It’s a brave show in many ways, challenging woke responses as much as racist ones. Daliso has no time for easy answers: this is an intelligent, thought-provoking hour, the gentle, questioning approach belying the force behind it. Oh, and did I mention? It’s very funny too.

The theme is expanded, as Daliso moves from disgraced celebrities to something more personal: his own father (a much-loved government minister in Malawi) is accused of committing a crime. Another potentially fallen hero, and this one much closer to home. He stands by his dad – ‘80% sure he’s as innocent as he claims’ – and witnesses first-hand the ire of those convinced of his guilt.

Daliso has a wider perspective than most: he’s lived in nine countries on four continents; Britain is, he says – despite the polarising views expressed online – the most accepting place he knows. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to let us off the hook…

An astute, perceptive and laugh-out-loud show – you really shouldn’t miss this one.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

Blizzard

13/08/19

Assembly Hall, Edinburgh

I’m not usually a big fan of the circus. The glitzy outfits and macho posturing tend to put me off and prevent me from concentrating on the undoubted skills of the performers. But here I sit amidst a packed crowd at the Assembly Hall. My heart’s in my mouth and I’m thrilled to the core as I watch a team of acrobats hurtle up and down on a trampoline. They land like soaring birds on a precarious wooden perch high above me.

Flip Fabrique hail from Quebec and they are unlike any troupe I’ve seen before, presenting a strange but enchanting blend of circus skills, theatre and music. The conceit of Blizzard is that it takes place during ‘adverse weather conditions.’ Snow flakes drift down onto the stage as people trudge out of the wings wreathed in hooded parkas – but, within moments, the sensible clothing has been cast off and  an aerial act is whirling magisterially overhead.

A snowball fight turns into a symphony of frantic leaping and somersaulting. A performer is thrown effortlessly through the air and caught, an instant before her head makes contact with a wooden floor – no safety nets here! And, throughout the show, Ben Nasrellah performs a live score, tinkling  away on a state-of-the-art keyboard cloned with an upright piano, strumming on a guitar and, at one point, compelling the audience to clap gleefully along with him. He’s as integral to this act as the other performers.

I love the precision of this show, the way that every component (including that amazing keyboard) is wheeled smoothly around to accomodate the next sequence – and the next. The finale features a huge metal rectangle, hoisted up to balance improbably on one corner while the entire troupe clambers around inside it like a swarm of industrious insects. The result is breathtaking.

If you see only one circus act during the Fringe, Blizzard is the family-friendly spectacle you don’t want to miss. It is, quite simply, stunningly good.

4.8 stars

Philip Caveney

 

In PurSUEt

13/08/19

theSpace at Niddry Street (Lower Theatre), Edinburgh

I’m drawn to this show by the vibrant poster; I quite like Ms Perkins, and the tale of a quirky superfan (apparently based on a true story) is appealing to me. In reality, Eleanor Higgins’ In PurSUEt  isn’t so much about the titular Sue, as it is about the protagonist’s struggle with alcoholism.

It’s not really In PurSUEt’s fault that I’ve seen a few too many introspective shows at this year’s fringe – there are, for some reason, lots of micro-dramas about personal issues. As I tend to prefer more outward-looking work (I like intimacy in drama, but find it more interesting if there’s something more universal in the mix), I guess I’m just not this production’s target audience.

I have a few issues with the story too: I get very little sense of the character’s life outside of booze-and-Sue (she must have one; how else is she funding her impulsive trips in pursuit of her heroine?). And why doesn’t Sue recognise her after so many odd encounters? I’m not even sure what it is about Perkins that attracts Higgins in the first place, because she never says what it is she finds so appealing about the Bake-Off star.

Still, there’s no denying that Higgins is an engaging performer, and there are some funny sequences here and quite a few cutting one-liners. She also, as it turns out, has a lovely singing voice. And, in the end, her redemption feels earned.

3 stars

Susan Singfield

The Professor

12/08/19

Assembly Rooms (Drawing Room), George Street, Edinburgh

The audience files politely into the theatre and we take our seats. The lights dim and in comes our speaker for the day, who assigns us the roles of university students, here to attend his latest lecture. None of us feels inclined to argue the point. He immediately announces that today’s talk will take a break from the advertised subject and will instead make a few unexpected detours. Written by Brian Parks and performed by David Calvitto, The Professor depicts a man on the verge of a change – and moreover, not one he’s making by choice.

So we are offered a scattershot lecture on the joys of mathematics, the history of theatre and a snarling put down of the limitations of dance. Calvitto steers his way expertly through the very witty and hyper-verbose script, occasionally delivering dazzling one-liners and even pausing at one point to perform some lines in verse (because poetry that doesn’t rhyme is worthless, right?), accompanying himself on a mandolin. What’s clever here is that this professor cannot resist thrusting large chunks of his own prejudices and foibles into what ought to be a dispassionate account. He also believes that cats (and racoons) can read books. Don’t ask. And all of this, really, is just an elaborate set up for what must be the most protracted fart gag in history.

This is a slight but pleasing piece that starts and ends strongly enough, but feels a little unfocused in the middle.

Those who have worked in the world of academia will doubtless recognise a lot of what goes on here. The rest of us will just be too busy giggling about that fart joke.

3.5 stars

Philip Caveney

Tess

10/08/19

theSpace at Surgeon’s Hall (Fleming), Edinburgh

Tess (of the d’Urbervilles) might not seem like an obvious choice for a late night Fringe show, but Ondervinden and G & T Productions’ rumbustious interpretation is perfectly suited to its time slot: a lively ‘pint-in-hand’ production, with live folk music and gutsy performances.

The three-hander, written and directed by Elske Waite, is a sprightly affair, illuminating  the core of Hardy’s novel. It’s the same plot (impoverished country girl raped by entitled rich man then spurned by society), but this version is a lot less dour than its progenitor, and there’s a welcome dose of feminism thrown into the mix. The music (courtesy of Jonathan Ip, Tenzin Stephen and Isla Ratcliff) makes a perfect accompaniment for this rollicking adaptation.

Polly Waldron plays Tess, imbuing her with such childish innocence that only a stone-hearted person could fail to be moved by the abuse she suffers. But she’s not silent, and I like that: she knows she is being cruelly wronged, and she stands up for herself. Emily Windham and Colette McNulty play all the other characters, with token costume additions to symbolise a change of role. It’s nicely done: McNulty excels at the comic stuff, while Windham is perfect as Angel Clare, his chilling self-righteousness horribly exposed.

The set design (by Khadija Raza) is simple but witty; I especially like the cow, made from a sawhorse and a rubber glove, and the quirky humour of a tiny piece of astroturf.

So don’t be put off by the idea of Thomas Hardy as an evening out. This Tess knows how to party.

4.2 stars

Susan Singfield

Frankenstein

10/08/19

theSpace on North Bridge (Perth), Edinburgh

I love Frankenstein. I’ve read the novel so many times it’s as familiar as a friend. I love the story behind it too, and never fail to marvel at the nineteen-year-old girl who could produce such a masterpiece. Of course, I’m not alone. This slim volume has inspired all manner of creatives to explore its possibilities in other forms, and now it’s Birmingham-based Blue Orange Theatre’s turn to have a go. What can they add to the mix?

Frankenstein is played here as a three-hander, focusing on The Creature’s story, with Taresh Solanki delivering an impressive performance as the protagonist. He’s all tension and sinew: a feral, frightened beast. Once in the proximity of humans, he begins to emulate their behaviour, and Solanki’s movements change accordingly: he grows more upright, his language skills develop. The physicality of the transformation is arresting.

James Nicholas and Emma Cooper embody all the other roles, taking turns to narrate the story as the action unfolds. I like the way the narration switches from third person to first as The Creature learns to speak, and the way all three performers inhabit the small stage. Between them, they do the novel proud.

Frankenstein, told this way, is an ideal piece for the Fringe, where a few simple props, some wooden crates and a white sheet can evoke an entire world.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

 

 

On the Other Hand, We’re Happy

10/08/19

Summerhall (Roundabout), Edinburgh

On the Other Hand We’re Happy is a play about adoption – the hopes, the perils, the joys and pitfalls of the process. Like most productions by Paines Plough, it’s brilliantly staged and powerfully acted. Written by Daf James and directed by Stef O’ Driscoll, this is an object lesson in how to toy with an audience’s emotions, and it succeeds admirably on just about every level. It’s a powerful, compelling story.

Josh (Toyin Omari-Kinch) and Abbi (Charlotte Bate) are a young couple in love, who – like so many others before them – plan to become parents. When they discover that they can’t make babies in the usual way, their thoughts turn to adoption, and they even elicit the opinions of the audience when discussing its merits. (The action regularly breaks the fourth wall, but it’s handled so cleverly, it never feels like a gimmick.) When the couple learn of a young girl, Tyler, who could be the right fit for them, they are naturally excited at the prospect of meeting her – but then fate deals them a cruel blow and it looks as though their dream may be an impossibility…

I love the direction of this piece, the way the actors appear to tumble and lurch from scene to scene, cutting back and forth in time, seeming to literally fall from one sequence to the next. Charlotte O’ Leary plays Tyler and also her mother, Kelly – a deliciously sweary Welsh woman, who may have taken some wrong turns in her life, but still wants the best for her daughter. All three performances are top notch, but Omari-Kinch’s physicality stands out. His is a character caught up in a maelstrom of wild emotions, flinging himself recklessly around the circular stage of Roundabout like an out of control automaton.

The conclusion is almost overpoweringly emotional and I watch the actors taking their well-deserved bows through a film of tears. If you like quality theatre, head down to Summerhall and catch this vibrant, beating heart of a play before it moves on.

It’s one of the best shows we’ve seen at this year’s Fringe.

5 stars

Philip Caveney