Summerhall

Outpatient

13/08/24

Summerhall (Anatomy Lecture Theatre), Edinburgh

Harriet Madeley’s debut solo show is all about that most popular of subjects… death. I know. Hard sell, right? But when entertainment journalist Olive is searching for the right subject matter for her next big project – you know, the one that will lift her career out of the doldrums and win her the Pulitzer Prize – she keeps returning to that theme. 

But of course, she soon discovers that, although everyone dies, few people are ready to talk about it until the event is imminent. So Olive hits on the idea of booking herself in for a hospital health-check, solely so she can sneak into the palliative care ward and chat to some of the patients. For some inexplicable reason, this doesn’t go down well with the staff. 

Then the results of Olive’s tests come back and, for the first time in her life, she finds herself a lot closer to death than she could ever have anticipated. To say that it puts a different spin on things would be something of an understatement…

Outpatient is a clever, darkly humorous tale, which – it turns out – is based on Madeley’s real life. She relates much of the narrative while pounding along on a running machine or bouncing around on an exercise ball. She explains how the experience makes her reassess everything in her life, leads her (inadvertently) into breaking the law and prompts her to form a new friendship with Evelyn, a woman with a fatal illness. 

If on paper it all sounds a bit grim, don’t be misled. Olive’s narrative is wryly funny, peppered with astute observations about everyday existence and the irony of her unfortunate experience boosting her own chances of literary success. Rather than being a downer, it’s ultimately life-affirming. Madeley’s performance is a delight and the standing ovation she receives at the play’s conclusion is proof that I’m not the only person in the audience with that view.

So live dangerously and go see this play about death. You’ll love it!

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney

Through the Mud

11/08/24

Summerhall (Main Hall), Edinburgh

Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose. 

Apphia Campbell’s Through the Mud is a chilling reminder of how little has changed over the years when it comes to Black liberation in America. Campbell plays Assata Shakur, the 1970s civil rights activist, who – convicted of murder – escaped from jail and has been living in exile in Cuba ever since. In a parallel storyline, forty years later, college student Ambrosia Rollins (Tinashe Warikandwa) finds herself caught up in the beginnings of the Black Lives Matter movement.

This is a powerful piece of theatre, as much a call to arms as anything else, and it feels especially apposite as racist riots are breaking out just over the border in England. Of course, Through the Mud pertains specifically to American politics, but bigotry and prejudice aren’t confined to one continent and we have just as much blood on our hands.

Co-produced by Stellar Quines and Edinburgh’s Royal Lyceum Theatre, the production values are as high as you’d expect, and director Caitlin Skinner deftly leads us through the intertwining timelines, allowing the women’s individual stories space to breathe as well as highlighting the connections. The characters contrast and complement one another perfectly: Campbell imbues Assata with a fierce dignity and a fighter’s strength, while Warikandwa’s Ambrosia is altogether sweeter and more naïve – until her first weeks of college coincide with the fatal shooting of Michael Brown by a white police officer, and she can no longer cling to the fair-world fantasy that her parents built for her. 

The sense of outrage at the heart of the play is brought to life by the music, where spirituals and gospel songs give voice to the protest. The women’s vocals are impressive: Campbell deep and powerfully resonant, while Warikandwa’s more plaintive tones offer an enchanting counterpoint. When the two harmonise, the effect is positively thrilling.

In the face of all the awful evidence, it’s to Campbell’s credit that Through the Mud feels somehow hopeful rather than dispiriting. The women’s indefatigable spirits spur us into thinking we ought to act too. 

Not enough has changed – but the fight goes on.

4.5 stars

Susan Singfield

Werewolf

09/08/24

Summerhall (Former Women’s Locker Room), Edinburgh

I’m a drama teacher by day (emerging as a theatre critic under a full moon) so I am au fait with the game Werewolf – the teenagers I work with are obsessed with it. For those less familiar with the concept, it’s a role-playing exercise set in a remote village, where the titular lupines feast on one unfortunate inhabitant each night. Every morning, the villagers (who include a doctor, a detective, a chief and – randomly – a Cupid) meet to try to work out who among them is a killer. Think The Traitors or Among Us, depending on your demographic. It’s a little bit like that.

New Zealand’s Binge Culture theatre company brings a heightened version of the game to this year’s Fringe, with extra layers of drama and complexity, and the immersive experience is a lot of fun. Before we’re ushered into Summerhall’s Former Women’s Locker Room, we’re told that we will each find a card on our seats. We should read them and follow the instructions without revealing their contents to anyone else. 

Once we’re seated, three wardens (Joel Baxendale, Hannah Kelly and Stella Reid) inform us that we’re in a containment bunker, and that we need to stay here for seven days to avoid – whisper it – “the contagion.” Post-Covid, this doesn’t actually feel like such a stretch, but things soon start to go awry. Obviously, I can’t give too much away because the element of surprise is key to this production. Suffice to say, the tension steadily mounts…

I love it. The wardens do an excellent job of inhabiting their characters at the same time as managing the narrative, expertly drawing what they need from the participants. The sound design (by Oliver Devlin) is crucial to the piece, creating an unsettling atmosphere and perfectly enhancing the horror elements. Everyone in the room appears committed to the game; we’re all determined to uncover the danger in our midst.

I highly recommend this piece, especially to families with teenagers in tow. If you want something entertaining and immersive, then Werewolf is surely what you’re looking for. It”s an absolute howl.

4.5 stars

Susan Singfield

I’m Almost There

09/08/24

Summerhall (Main Hall), Edinburgh

Todd Almond hails from New York City and I’m Almost There, a song cycle inspired by The Odyssey, begins with him sitting at the piano, his fingers pumping out an urgent and propulsive rhythm – and then his plaintive voice soars over the music as the tale begins.

A friend phones to invite the storyteller to a party in trendy Tribeca, and at first he’s reluctant to venture out from the sanctuary of his apartment block, but his friend is very persistent and eventually he agrees to go. Amongst the ranks of strangers, his friend is nowhere to be found, but the storyteller’s gaze meets the eyes of a man and, almost before he knows it, the two of them have left the party together and are walking through the streets of the city. Eventually they part ways, but the next morning, the storyteller hears his doorbell ring. The stranger is waiting for him below with two cups of coffee and all he needs to do is go downstairs and let him in. But so many things get in the way.

There’s the weird upstairs neighbour who is looking for her lost cat; the odd but sexually-attractive guy across the hall who keeps telling the storyteller that he hates him. And don’t even mention what’s waiting for him down in the basement….

Accompanied by Erin Hill’s distinctive harp and Lucas Macrosson’s slinky bass guitar, Almond weaves an intriguing and compelling tale of urban mystery. It’s a distinctive approach to storytelling and its premise puts me in mind, for some reason, of the short stories of Armistead Maupin, which are themselves so inspired by the author’s adopted city. I’m also thinking of the Australian performer Wil Greenway, who used to be a regular fixture at the Fringe, who is also adept at weaving whimsical tales of everyday existence.

And perhaps too the weird sequence of events is reminiscent of the ways in which authors, chasing that new narrative, find themselves continually distracted by other ideas bubbling to the surface at inopportune moments.

There’s a packed crowd in the Main Hall at Summerhall, hanging on to Almond’s every word and, when the last chord dies away, the applause is heartfelt and appreciative. Those who have yet to experience the talents of this distinctive musical storyteller should grab tickets before they sell out.

4.2 Stars

Philip Caveney

Playfight

08/08/24

Roundabout at Summerhall, Edinburgh

At first, Julia Grogan’s Playfight seems like a pretty straightforward coming-of-age story. The three protagonists, Keira (Sophie Cox), Zainab (Nina Cassells) and Lucy (Lucy Mangan), are fifteen years old, fizzing with adolescent energy and trading wide-eyed misinformation about sex. The characters are nicely delineated and the dialogue is lively and witty. Keira is the bold one, the most sexually aware, proud that she’s lost her virginity before starting sixth form. Lucy is struggling to reconcile her Christianity with her longing for an orgasm, while Zainab is worried about coming out as lesbian. She’s not scared about her friends rejecting her, but she is nervous about revealing exactly who it is she has feelings for. So far, so ground-well-trod.

But there are darker elements at play in Grogan’s script, and – under Emma Callander’s direction – these are gradually revealed. The insouciance with which the girls share news of their sexual exploits and fantasies belies the enormity of some of what they’re saying, the banal and the shocking met with the same innocent acceptance. “It was great,” says Keira about having sex for the first time. “Except for the awkward bit, where he asked to hit me in the face.” My heart aches for these youngsters, whose yearning makes them so vulnerable.

This is nuanced stuff. A movement sequence (choreographed by Aline David) marking the end of their school years recalls The Crucible, as the trio remove their clothes and dance in the woods. Like Abigail Williams and her friends, they are never just victims; they’re also active participants in their own (and others’) destruction. Keira’s lover, Dan, might be eighteen, but he’s as defenceless as she is; Lucy’s masochism is signalled from the start, but does she know enough to give informed consent? If there’s a message here – and I think there is – it’s that we’re failing our young people when it comes to sex education. It’s 2024, but they’re still learning from rumour and porn. Where are the open, frank discussions with well-informed, non-judgmental adults?

Playfight feels authentic. The girls’ home lives exist just out of sight, rarely discussed. What is there to say? They already know each others’ circumstances; of course they’re keener to talk about masturbation – or GCSE results. Still, we glean snippets of information, enough to contextualise their actions. Cox, Cassells and Mangan utterly convince in their portrayal of the kind of all-consuming friendship that means so much when we are young – but often fails to survive into adulthood.

Hazel Low’s simple set design works well: a bright pink ladder surrounded by wood chippings represents the girls’ favourite tree. I like the stylised image, and the connotation of ascension.

Playfight has real emotional heft – and is yet another winner from Roundabout at Summerhall.

4.8 stars

Susan Singfield

Lynn Faces

06/08/24

Summerhall (Main Hall), Edinburgh

There’s no denying it’s an original premise. After all, there aren’t many bands inspired by the facial expressions of Alan Partridge’s long-suffering assistant, Lynn.

But Lynn Faces are here and they’re ready to perform. Leah (Madeleine Macmahon) is turning forty tomorrow, and – after splitting up with her boyfriend, Pete – she needs to do something big to mark the occasion. Encouraged by her friends, Shonagh and Ali (Holly Kavanagh and Peyvand Sadeghian), she’s booked a gig for the hastily-formed titular punk band. Okay, so the drummer they’ve never met is AWOL and – with the exception of Shonagh’s recorder – none of them can actually play an instrument, but how hard can it be? Leah did meet Viv Albertine from The Slits once; she’s bound to have absorbed some talent, right? 

Er, wrong. 

While silly on the surface, Laura Horton’s sophomore play also has some serious points to make about domestic abuse. Leah is devastated by her break-up with Pete,  eagerly awaiting messages from him and reminiscing fondly about how they met. But piece by piece the jigsaw builds until we have a clear picture of what he’s really like and how much damage he has done to her.

Unfortunately, the problem is that the gig really is as bad as it purports to be. Unlike say, The Play That Goes Wrong, where the apparently shoddy is actually perfectly drilled, Lynn Faces is an hour of non-musicians performing bad songs. The poignancy of the final stretches doesn’t feel earned and so it doesn’t land for me. It doesn’t help that I’m sitting next to an air conditioning unit, so any dialogue that happens away from the mic (or behind a Lynn mask) is hard to hear. 

There are some genuinely funny moments – Shonagh’s recorder solo and the Cunt x 40 song, for example – and Summerhall’s Main Hall is sold out, full of people laughing and enjoying the show.

For me though, this feels a bit dialled in. 

2.7 stars 

Susan Singfield

Flip!

03/11/23

Summerhall, Edinburgh

Racheal Ofori’s FLIP! is a fresh and keen-eyed take on the Faust story. Two young graduates, eager to make their mark, are enjoying moderate success on their WePipe channel. Their videos are vibrant and fun, full of silly catchphrases and exuberant dance routines, pragmatic beauty tips and off-the-cuff remarks. They’re enjoying making them – and it shows. For Crystal (Jadesola Odunjo), the collaboration and creativity are paramount, but Carleen (Leah St Luce) is hungry for cold hard cash. She has to be: unlike Crystal, she doesn’t have parents who can bankroll her, and her hard-earned degree doesn’t seem to be helping her to get a decent job.

So when a new app starts to gain traction, Carleen is all over it. FLIP! is hugely popular, its short video format both punchy and easily accessible. Crystal takes a bit of convincing – she’s not keen on the app’s style or ethos – but, before long, the duo are doing well. Until Crystal says something that other users don’t like, and she’s trending for all the wrong reasons…

Carleen is faced with a dilemma: should she stand by her friend and eschew her newfound notoriety, or sign a deal with FLIP! as one of their brand ambassadors?

Under Emily Aboud’s assured direction, FLIP! is a kinetic, engaging piece of theatre, turning an almost empty stage into a convincing digital universe. Aline David’s lively choreography helps to underscore the characters’ youth – their exuberance and naïvety – and both Odunjo and St Luce deliver flawless performances, charting the characters’ respective journeys from dreams to despair.

Because, of course, just as every action has an equal and opposite reaction, every exciting new promise of autonomy and riches soon has the sharks circling, working out how they can exploit it for their own ends. And FLIP! are no exception, cunningly demanding the rights to Carleen’s digital image and then using AI to create content for her. Sure, she’s making money, but she’s no creative control, no pride in her work. The fun has gone – and so has her best friend. But if she reneges on the deal, what then? FLIP! will just use someone else, and she’ll be back in a dead-end job. There’s no way out.

Ofori’s social commentary is sharp and incisive, and we leave the theatre with much to discuss. FLIP!‘s Edinburgh run is over now, but it’ll be at the Soho Theatre from 7th-25th November, so do try to catch it if you’re in London. It’s FLIP!pin’ great!

4.3 stars

Susan Singfield

Edfest Bouquets 2023

August in Edinburgh, and the Fringe was back with a boom! As ever, after seeing so many brilliant productions, it’s been hard to select our favourites, but it’s (virtual) Bouquet time and so, in no particular order, here are the shows that have really stayed with us:

COMEDY

John Robins: Howl (Just the Tonic)

‘Raw and achingly honest….’

The Ice Hole: a Cardboard Comedy (Pleasance)

‘An inspired piece of surreal lunacy…’

Dominique Salerno: The Box Show (Pleasance)

‘One of the most original acts I’ve ever seen…’

The Umbilical Brothers: The Distraction (Assembly)

‘An amorphous mass of nonsense – but brilliantly so!’

THEATRE

Bacon (Summerhall)

‘A whip-smart, tightly-constructed duologue…’

The Grand Old Opera House Hotel (Traverse)

‘Part slapstick, part comic-opera, part mad-as-a-box-of-frogs spectacle, this is something you really don’t want to miss.’

Salty Irina (Roundabout at Summerhall)

‘Fresh and contemporary, all minimal props and non-literal interpretation…’

Dark Noon (Pleasance)

‘A unique piece of devised theatre, sprawling and multi-faceted…’

JM Coetzee’s Life and Times of Michael K (Assembly)

‘A gentle but powerful production…’

One Way Out (Underbelly)

‘The piece is brave enough not to offer a solution…’

SPECIAL MENTIONS

After the Act (Traverse)

‘We have to learn from what has gone before…’

Woodhill (Summerhall)

‘Though unnervingly bleak, this does offer a glimmer of hope…’

Things Hidden Since the Foundation of the World (Traverse)

‘The closest I’ve ever come to experiencing an acid trip in the theatre…’

Susan Singfield & Philip Caveney

Bacon

27/08/23

Summerhall (Cairns Lecture Theatre), Edinburgh

Mark (Corey Montague-Sholay) wants to tell us his story…

When we first meet him, he’s standing behind the counter of the coffee shop where he works and he’s transfixed, frozen in terror, because Darren (William Robinson) has just walked in and he’s staring at Mark. It’s been four years since the two of them last laid eyes on each other.

And with that we go back to their very first meeting when they’re just fifteen years old. Mark is the new kid at school: reserved, studious, endearing – yet somehow entirely friendless. And Darren, he’s the quintessential troubled teen: rebellious, irreverent, dangerous in that indefinable way. He’s troubled by his own burgeoning sexuality, and the toxic relationship he endures with his father.

It’s clear from the boys’ very first meeting that something has sparked between Mark and Darren, something that begins to smoulder and which will eventually ignite with tragic consequences.

Written by Sophie Swithenbank and directed by Matthew Illiffe, Bacon is a whip-smart, tightly-constructed duologue that pulls me into its tenacious grip and holds me spellbound as the story unfolds, cutting back and forth between the two boys’ home lives, their developing relationship, their triumphs and disasters. The lines of dialogue run together, the two characters starting and ending each other’s sentences.

Natalie Johnson’s simple but effective set is a huge see-saw, rising and falling as the power dynamic fluctuates. The two performances are extraordinarily powerful and the play’s conclusion is quite simply shattering.

It would be hard to imagine a play more perfectly suited to the Fringe. Once again, I find myself wishing I had seen this earlier so I could trumpet its brilliance.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Pilot

26/08/23

Summerhall (Tech Cube), Edinburgh

Some time in the near future, an ex-detective attempts to piece together the fragments of an old manuscript, left behind by someone called Al.

The play, by Lekan Lawal, award-winning Artistic Director of Eclipse Theatre Company, is as fragmented as the manuscript at its centre. It’s ambitious, questioning the accepted way in which we structure our narratives and calling for a new method of storytelling. The title suggests that Lawal is aware that this piece does not provide the answer, only a suggestion for where we might start.

He is a genial host, introducing himself and his subject matter in a friendly, inclusive way. The room feels like a welcoming space, and I find myself warming to him, wanting to like his performance. We start off with a few audience volunteers engaging in a game of musical chairs (Philip comes third), the victor invited to share his experience of another time he felt like a winner.

And then we’re off, into a heady mix of music, live video projection, dance and spoken word. Lawal reads from Al’s manuscript, and from Chekhov; we touch on Icarus and Superman, Knight Rider and Dalston market, family weddings, race and feelings of failure. I enjoy all of it: it’s engaging and entertaining and each snippet makes sense while it’s in front of me. But I’m not sure what it all adds up to and can’t help feeling that, in the end, all the trappings serve to obfuscate rather than illuminate Al’s story.

Nonetheless, if you can’t experiment with something new at the Edinburgh Fringe, then I don’t know where you can, and I’m pretty sure that within Pilot there’s an idea that really does have wings.

3 stars

Susan Singfield