Edinburgh 2019

Jon Long: Planet-Killing Machine

 

04/08/19

Underbelly Bristo Square (Clover), Edinburgh

We’re not sure what to expect from this: we’ve never seen Jon Long before. We’re heading into his comedy show because we like the poster, and because the environmental theme appeals to us. We’re glad we take the punt, because this young comedian is really very good.

I say ‘young’ because that’s how he seems. He tells us he’s thirty, but he exudes the charm of a diffident teenager; he has a gentle, appealing approach. It’s a pleasure to spend an hour in his company, being entertained by his songs and gags.

The show is loosely eco-focused – based on what he’s experienced working in a recycling centre, and his guilt at being the titular planet-eating machine – but there are lots of diversions and asides. It’s punctuated by witty, catchy songs, and we’re invited to join in. There are jibes at millennials, which might sound hack but work well here; there’s a self-deprecating tone to the mockery, which warms us to his ideas.

Long doesn’t look ravaged enough for his alcoholism material to be true, but I guess that angelic face masks what he’s been through. I’m just glad he’s in recovery, because this is one performer with a lot to say and a rather lovely way of saying it. Even when he’s singing about dildos.

4.2 stars

Susan Singfield

 

Chris Dugdale: Down To One

04/08/19

Assembly Rooms, (Drawing Room), Edinburgh

What is the mysterious hold that Chris Dugdale has over us? We first saw him back in 2015, where we awarded his show maximum stars and one of our first Edinburgh Bouquets. We’ve been back for more every year since. Are we simply suffering from an acute case of FOMO? Or did he somehow manage to hypnotise us?

Whatever the case, here we are again in the front row of Down To One, watching in slack-jawed amazement as he runs an enthusiastic crowd through his latest set of bewildering, bamboozling and downright heart-stopping magic. The evening is regularly punctuated with gasps of astonishment and bursts of applause.

This year is mostly about numbers and predictions. Seemingly impossible feats of mathematics and memory are thrown out with consummate ease. An audience member, chosen by a series of random events, suddenly appears to be able to speak foreign languages without breaking a sweat. There’s close up card trickery, the magician’s hands shown live on a giant screen behind him, so we’ve every opportunity to spot that cunnng sleight of hand… but, of course we don’t, because this is so faultlessly executed it’s little wonder that Chris is banned from playing in many casinos in America. His generous offer to meet members of the audience for a hand of poker afterwards go unanswered.

Look, when it comes to superlatives, we’ve pretty much used them all up when talking about Mr Dugdale. All I can say is, if you’re a lover of magic shows (and there are plenty of them on the Fringe this year), this is the one you really mustn’t miss. Get in early and watch his hands very carefully.

And I’m thinking, this year we might be slightly less generous with those stars… maybe we’ll just give him… ah, no. Can’t do it.

Looks like we really are under his spell.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

 

Leave a Message

04/08/19

Gilded Balloon (Patter Hoose), Edinburgh

Ed (Ed Coleman) arrives at the flat of his recently deceased father, Nicholas. He’s been saddled with the thankless task of clearing the place out. Luckily for him, he’s soon joined by his close friend, Sarah (Eleanor Fanyinka), who makes valiant attempts to jolly him through the process, but it’s no easy matter. Nicholas was a loner, who walked out on his marriage years ago, and has been estranged from his son ever since.

Poking through the paperwork, Ed discovers several references to Linda (Denise Stephenson) and begins to realise that there are things about his father he doesn’t know – and that the two of them might have more in common than he wants to accept. So he calls Linda and invites her over for a heart-to-heart.

Co-written by Coleman and James Mitchell,  Leave a Message positively crackles with taut, witty dialogue, coaxing plenty of laughs out of what could so easily be a maudlin tale of self-destruction. Indeed, the scene where Ed and Sarah cavort through the rubbish-strewn apartment to the strains of A-Ha’s Take On Me comes close to being downright joyful. The performances are uniformly engaging, the actors breathing real life into their respective characters. These feel suspiciously like real people.

If you’re looking for sharp insightful writing and assured acting, then this is a perfect place to look. Go, enjoy this and tell all your friends.

Leave a Message is a cracker.

4.5 stars

Philip Caveney

Detour: A Show About Changing Your Mind

03/08/19

Underbelly Bristo Square (Buttercup), Edinburgh

Detour is Diana Dinerman’s account of how her life has taken unexpected turns: from dancer to historian to stand-up comedian. In this solo show, she charts the twists and turns of the path she’s trodden, using modern dance as an illustrative technique.

Dance – and its allegorical associations – is the strength of this show. The standout moment for me is when Dinerman performs the key features of three leading practitioners, a precise and economical demonstration that even non-dancers like me can understand. These ideas – of taking up space, contracting, separating out the limbs – are then interwoven into her story, physical metaphors for emotional discoveries. It’s a neat concept.

The opening third is very funny, with some wry witticisms and keen observations. From thereon in, there are fewer jokes, as Dinerman details a period of emotional distress and subsequent self-discovery. She speaks well, and the tale flows easily, but this section is a bit too self-help-manual for me. I admit, I’m not generally good with publicly-voiced introspection (I’m a “roll-your-eyes-and-call-it-naval-gazing” cynical kind of gal), so I’m really not the ideal audience member for this show. Certainly, as we left, the people behind us were most appreciative, enthusing about how insightful and thought-provoking they’d found it.

So, if you enjoy soul-searching with a dash of comedy, this could just be the show for you.

3 stars

Susan Singfield

Sarah Kendall: Paper Planes

02/08/19

Assembly George Square (Studio 2), Edinburgh

The Fringe is a yearly delight for us, a great big box of chocolates with next to no labelling, so we never really know what to expect. We’re always on the lookout for fresh, exciting new acts, but there are also a few stalwarts we return to again and again, mostly I suppose, because they represent the nearest we’ll ever get to a guarantee of quality.

Sarah Kendall is one of those stalwarts. We first saw her in 2015 with the quietly devastating A Day in October and we’ve gone back to drink at the same well every year since. If Paper Planes doesn’t quite achieve the heights of her finest work, it nonetheless features her unique blend of ascerbic comedy and intriguing storytelling and I can think of few better ways to spend an hour than in her excellent company.

A story told in four chapters, topped and tailed by a prologue and an epilogue, the latest show is an apparently scattershot narrative that takes in a whole series of diverse experiences: Sarah telling bedtime stories to her daughter, telling lies to her agent and being generally appalled by the things her (weirdly voiced) mother says on the phone. She spends time in American hotels as she travels to LA touting for work, all the while trying to motivate herself to write the book for which she’s accepted a large advance. As she goes, she reflects on world events, commenting on the dangerous lurch to the right that seems to be happening in the Western world and worrying that she should be doing something to address the situation.

It’s a wide-ranging piece but – with unerring skill – she manages to find the funny in all of her subjects, nailing them one-by-one with her rapier wit. She even manages to tie all those supposedly loose threads together to achieve a satisfying and genuinely heartwarming conclusion.

If you haven’t experienced Sarah Kendall yet, then this is surely the perfect year to address that situation. Go and see her for yourself. You’ll be engaged, surprised and entertained, but the one thing you won’t be is disappointed.

4.6 stars 

Philip Caveney

Beep Boop

02/08/19

Assembly, George Square (Blue Room), Edinburgh

Physical comedy is one of the hardest things to pull off successfully. Because its practitioners sometimes make it look ridiculously easy, we’re sometimes fooled into thinking that it actually is; but it only takes a few moments in the company of a gifted mime artist to appreciate how rigorously they have trained themselves to reach such levels of perfection. New York-based performer Richard Saudek is a brilliant exponent of the form. And today, in a very hot enclosed space on the Edinburgh Fringe, it certainly doesn’t look easy. The sweat is literally raining from him as he manipulates his face and body into a whole range of frantic contortions.

In Beep Boop, Saudek plays a man addicted to his own technology: his phone, his tablet, his laptop; he cannot seem to tear himself away from them. Locked up in his apartment, he appears to have lost the skill of maintaining a genuine friendship. A knock on the door is treated with open hostility. The voice of a woman offering beauty tips online is the closest he ever gets to a conversation. He cannot even make a meal without photographing it, sharing it online and then dumping it in the bin.

This is a hard act to review, simply because every move, every gesture, tells us something new about this man’s tortured character. Aided only by a series of sound effects -provided by a po-faced female assistant – Saudek flings himself through a series of manic vaudevillian twists as his beloved devices subsume him, affect him and ultimately attempt to destroy him. And if I’m in danger of making the whole thing sound a bit on the grim side, don’t be misled. This is brilliantly, howlingly funny stuff. Saudek’s range of facial expressions alone are enough to have me in stitches.

Weirdly, for me, much of the humour comes from recognising myself in this weird mix. Saudek’s character exhibits traits that are uncomfortably familiar – and in a way, that’s the real strength of what he accomplishes here. It’s like looking at yourself in a funfair mirror.

If you like mime and physical theatre, then don’t miss this show. You’ll be in for a treat.

4.5 stars

Philip Caveney

The Pat Hobby Stories

02/08/19

Gilded Balloon Teviot (Sportsmans), Edinburgh

Until today, I’d never heard F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Pat Hobby stories. I’ve read Gatsby, of course, and Tender is the Night, but these witty so-called ‘throw away’ tales are completely new to me.

And I like them. Pat Hobby is a dissolute writer (think Ed Reardon, but in 1930s Hollywood), clinging to the vestiges of a once illustrious career. His meagre writing skills have been rendered obsolete by the arrival of talkies, and the subsequent requirement for actual scripted dialogue. He hangs around the studio lots, blagging food and calling in favours, taking on odd bits of jobs to earn a buck or two. He’s a gift of a character: all bluster and envy, lurching perilously from scrape to scrape.

No wonder Fringe Management wanted to put him on the stage.

Paul Birchard brings the loveable rogue to life with consummate ease, telling the stories as written, describing Hobby’s actions in the third person, yet still embodying him convincingly. There’s real warmth in the performance, and personality; the grit behind the Hollywood glitz is revealed in this small room.

The room, however, does not do this production any favours. The soundproofing seems to be non-existent, and the show next door is some kind of rollicking romp, with loud music, mic’d performers, and lots of raucous laughter and applause. I have no idea how Birchard manages to concentrate, but he’s clearly a seasoned professional, ignoring it completely, not letting the disruption interrupt his flow. It doesn’t spoil the show exactly (I get used to the noise after a while), but it is annoying, and threatens the intimacy of this detailed portrayal. Hopefully (sorry Jacob Rees-Mogg), the venue will get this sorted for tomorrow, and Birchard will be able to perform in peace.

A clever, amusing show – this deserves to be seen.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Gun

01/08/19

Assembly Rooms, Front Room

Of all the movie genres that are regularly spoofed for comic effect, the Western is perhaps the one that’s most ripe with potential. Gun is a comedy monologue, written and performed by Will Hartley, formally one quarter of the Clever Peter sketch troupe, in which he gamely takes on twenty-five characters, with little more than a battered Stetson and some extremely ropey scenery to back him up. 

There’s an amiable, ramshackle quality to this piece, that only serves to add to the general hilarity. When Hartley manages to inadvertently knock over some of the aforementioned cardboard scenery, the moment is gleefully incorporated into the narrative – and when, in a later scene, there’s a four way shootout to enact, Hartley rises magnificently to the occasion, snapping from one character to the next, ensuring that we’re never in any doubt as to who is shooting whom – and why.

Meanwhile, Western buffs will have a field day spotting the various cinematic references – with an Ennio Morricone-style music cue here and a Clint Eastwood cliché there. There’s little point in going into the convoluted storyline; suffice to say there are few Western tropes left undisturbed. Hartley cleverly works the titles of scores of iconic movies into his script and, as the story unfolds, I find myself ticking them off in an imaginary box in my head. A climactic sequence, where Hartley is obliged to enact a torrid sex scene with himself, is a particular delight.

While it’s not designed to linger long in the memory, Gun is an ideal vehicle for those audiences looking for a good old belly laugh. Why not mosey on down to the Assembly Rooms and grab yourself a fist full of giggles?

4 stars

Philip Caveney

 

Endless Second

01/08/19

Pleasance Courtyard (Below), Edinburgh

Theo Toksvig-Stewart’s play about consent is an intense, emotionally demanding piece – and, my word, it’s impressive.

Directed by Camilla Gürtler, Endless Second chronicles the relationship between W (Madeleine Gray) and M (Toksvig-Stewart), two drama students who fall in love on the first day of their course. They’re devoted to one another; they’re sweet and supportive; they meet each other’s families; it’s perfect, idyllic. So when M rapes W one drunken night, it’s hard for her to process exactly what’s happened.

This is a beautifully nuanced piece, at once unflinching and disarming, almost forensic in its examination of the impact of M’s actions. The narrative structure is interesting, and both performances utterly compelling. I especially like the fact that M is never demonised: nice boys do this too, unless they’re taught about consent.

W’s inarticulacy following the rape is heartbreakingly convincing, a clear answer to those who question why women stay with violent men, or why rape victims don’t report immediately. She can’t admit to herself that he did that to her; not M, who’s so kind, so loving, so aware of all his privilege, who’d never hurt anyone. Facing up to what he’s done means shattering her life; no wonder she buries the knowledge deep inside; no wonder it haunts her and changes what they have.

I can’t say I enjoy this play exactly; I spend half of it weeping and am wrung out by the end. It’s clever and thought-provoking and, yes, important too.

5 stars

Susan Singfield