Roundabout: Paines Plough

How I Learned To Swim

07/08/24

Roundabout at Summerhall, Edinburgh

Jamie is 30 years old and is having her first official swimming lesson. What took her so long? Well, there was that incident back in her childhood that instilled her with a powerful dread of diving into the water, not to mention the old stereotype that Black people can’t swim. But now, more recent events have driven her to take on the challenge in the hope that she can rectify something that’s been haunting her…

How I Learned to Swim by Somebody Jones is a engaging monologue, compellingly narrated and acted by Frankie Hart. The play was shortlisted for The Women’s Prize in 2023 and it’s easy to see why. Jamie’s story is compelling (and not just because I share her fear of being submerged). Her quiet determination to overcome old fears is both empowering and inspiring. Hart conveys Jamie’s emotions with aplomb, allowing glimpses of the anxious woman that hides behind a calm façade. She also slips effortlessly into a couple of other characters as the story unfolds: her indefatigable English swimming coach, Molly, and a spliff-smoking spiritual guide she goes to for advice.

This feels like a perfect play for Roundabout. The set is simply but effectively realised, the swimming pool location so convincingly evoked you can almost smell the chlorine. Lighting director Ali Hunter and composer Nicola T Chang work together to make the water sequences completely er… immersive.

There’s no great revelation here – at least, not one I haven’t already guessed at – but there is a genuine sense of peace and fulfilment at the play’s conclusion, the sense that long-held terrors are finally being laid to rest.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Manic Street Creature

24/08/22

Roundabout at Summerhall, Edinburgh

Ria is a plain-talking young musician from Yorkshire, who makes her way up to London, determined to further her career. At one of her first gigs, she encounters Daniel – and takes an instant shine to him. It isn’t long before the two of them have moved into an apartment together and he’s a member of Ria’s band. She tells him she loves him – a huge step for her – but, for some reason, Daniel seems unable to say the same words back.

As their relationship deepens, Ria begins to notice how anxious Daniel is – and to suspect that he may be suffering from the same manic depression that afflicted her father back in the day, the father she is now completely estranged from…

Manic Street Creature, written and performed by Maimuna Memon, is an assured slice of gig theatre that focuses on the subject of mental health from a slightly different perspective – that of the carer. As Ria desperately tries to find help for Daniel, she begins to experience problems herself, ones that threaten to swamp her own musical ambitions. And, when she does finally locate a doctor prepared to prescribe medication, Daniel’s character seems to change completely.

Memon tells the story through a sequence of songs being recorded in a studio session. She’s a confident, assured performer, with a thrilling vocal range, accompanying herself on acoustic and electric guitars, keyboards and shruti box. Her music is also augmented by the cello playing of Rachel Barnes and Yusuf Memon’s drums and guitar. When everything’s in full flow, the story takes flight and I feel myself propelled along by its urgent, rhythmic pulse. Sometimes it cuts abruptly back to a gentle, heart-tugging ballad, with Memon’s voice soaring effortlessly above the melody.

At the show’s conclusion, Memon offers information about mental health charities and says she wishes she could do more. But she’s already done plenty, bringing an important issue into focus through a triumphant sequence of songs. Perhaps she needs reminding of the message she’s just so eloquently delivered – that it’s really not her responsibility? At any rate, I wish I’d seen this show earlier in its Fringe run so I could have recommended it to more people.

There are just a few more opportunities to catch this awesome show, before the festival is over for another year – so what are you waiting for?

5 stars

Philip Caveney

A Sudden Violent Burst of Rain

10/08/22

Roundabout at Summerhall, Edinburgh

Sami Ibrahim’s play is a fable about immigration. We meet Elif (Sara Hazemi) as a teenager, newly washed up on the shores of a mythical island. She finds work with a rich landowner, herding and shearing sheep, spinning clouds from their wool. It’s a solitary life. But then she meets the landowner’s son (Samuel Tracy) and she’s smitten, and her story spirals out of control.

At first, this feels like a fairytale. The language is lyrical and there’s magic in the air. Elif is a sweet-natured dreamer, happy to accept her lot; a heroine in the Cinderella mould. Soon, though, reality intervenes. Elif has a baby, and the landowner’s son has gone.

Elif’s daughter, Lily (Princess Khumalo), is more down-to-earth, more practical than her mum. She recognises the stories for what they are and calls bullshit. She can’t escape them though: Elif isn’t ‘registered’, and if she’s not, then nor can Lily be. The clock is ticking down to Lily’s eighteenth birthday. Unless she’s registered by then, she has no right to stay.

This is an ingenious way to convey the absurdity of the UK’s immigration system. Couched in the apparel of a fairytale, it heightens our sense of right and wrong. We recognise the innocent persecuted heroine; we know that she’s supposed to win. We also know the villains and that they’re supposed to lose. But, despite Elif’s best efforts, that’s not what’s happening. The parallels are all too obvious. What sort of people are we, always letting the baddies win?

At the beginning, the three storytellers are all enthusiastic, clamouring to have their voices heard, each wanting to tell their version of the tale; by the end, even Elif can’t spin a yarn that’s strong enough to cast away the clouds. She desperately articulates her vision of Utopia, but harsh reality intrudes into her imagination, corrupting her dream.

This ensemble piece by Paines Plough is every bit as inventive and compelling as we’ve come to expect, and Yasmin Hafesji’s direction is both playful and assured. I especially love the use of props, with wooden sheep, a balloon and a Matryoshka all adding to the folk-tale tone. The muted colour palette – all greys and browns – evokes the misery of a rain-soaked isle, as does the muted lighting (by Rory Beaton).

Ibrahim has successfully created a kind of whimsical polemic. I’ve never seen anything quite like this before.

4.3 stars

Susan Singfield

Our Teacher’s A Troll

ROUNDABOUT - EDINBURGH INTERNATIONAL FESTIVAL 2014 Unknown-3

06/08/15

 Roundabout@Summerhall, Edinburgh

Edinburgh has a fantastic new festival venue in Paines Plough, Summerhall. From the outside, it looks fairly unprepossessing and you think, ‘Oh, it’s a tent.’ But once you step inside, all preconceptions are swept aside. This is a fabulous theatre-in-the-round, complete with state-of-the-art programmable LED lights and a crystal clear sound system – but, even more remarkably, it can be dismantled piece-by-piece and packed into a single lorry, to be taken anywhere in the world. Roundabout are justifiably proud of their new baby and offered a pre-festival sneak peek at one of their upcoming plays – Our Teacher’s A Troll by Dennis Kelly.

Kelly must be one of the most eclectic writers in the business. It’s hard to link this chirpy slice of children’s theatre with DNA or Utopia or his TV sitcom, Pulling, but they are all the work of an accomplished and creative mind. OTAT tells the story of two ‘terrible’ twins at an inner-city school, who, having driven their head teacher to a nervous breakdown (she’s found eating sand in the sandpit), discover that her replacement is something that they could never have expected – a gigantic flesh-eating troll with a hard line on troublemakers. The children at the school are made to dig up the playground and work in the resulting goldmine, while the troll takes action against anyone who is unruly (pupils and teachers alike) by biting off their heads.

This is a two-hander: the twins (and everyone else in an extensive selection of characters) are portrayed by Sian Reese-Williams and Abdul Salis, who effortlessly switch from character to character, occasionally using a voice-transforming microphone to embody the unseen but terrifying troll. The duo’s command of the circular stage is total and there’s plenty of lively interaction with members of the audience. The play is suitable for children aged 7 and up, but there’s plenty here to entertain the grown-ups also, and only the grumpiest audience members will fail to be enthralled as the tale unfolds. So parents of young children, take note. This is too good a treat to miss and it’s on until the 23rd August, with the hardworking actors (who are also appearing in other productions at the same venue) taking only an occasional day off throughout the run.

4.3 stars

Philip Caveney