Venue 13 | Bouquets & Brickbats

25/08/15

Venue 13, Lochend Close, Edinburgh

old man’s Gift (capitalisation theirs) is billed as a dark comedy. It tells the tale of four friends, using a birthday celebration to seek vengeance on the ‘old man’ who abused them in the past. It’s a student production, featuring four under-graduates from Trinity Saint David University in Carmarthen, and it’s clear that they’ve worked very hard to bring this drama to the fringe.

Sadly, however, it doesn’t really work. There are issues with all aspects of the production, from the script to the set design, from the direction to the performance style. None of it is quite convincing, and it doesn’t hang together well.

Let’s start with the set. It’s supposed to be a garden, or a patio, I think: the grounds of the old man’s house. There are chairs and a table, and – for some unfathomable reason – a fence. The fence stretches across the front of the stage, creating a barrier between the audience and the performers, which seems an odd thing to do in such a venue, where intimacy is perhaps the biggest selling point. It blocks a lot of the upstage action too, so that we cannot see the actors’ faces during several crucial scenes.

The script is problematic too. It’s not funny enough to work as a comedy, and there’s a strange intensity to the whole thing – a kind of teenage-angsty-melodrama vibe, where the emotions are cranked up to full volume throughout, with all four characters yelling, hyperventilating and flouncing off the stage at every opportunity. Despite all the histrionics, it’s a curiously empty play, and none of the heartbreak feels even remotely real. The characters’ motivations are spurious (really – why does Liz swallow the condom instead of just hiding it in her hand?) and their relationships are somehow ‘off.’

The direction is also weak. There are so many exits and entrances that it’s almost like a farce – but without the precision and humour that a farce demands. The constant traffic isn’t helped by the fact that the stage is a wooden box, and the actors all wear ‘solid’ shoes, meaning that the sound reverberates around the room. The performances look like acting, with none of the natural ease that makes a drama good.

All in all, this play just didn’t work for us. It’s an ambitious project, but one that – this time – hasn’t quite paid off.

1.5 stars

Susan Singfield and Philip Caveney

16/08/15

Venue 13, Edinburgh

One of the delights of the Edinburgh Festival is that you stumble across interesting shows in the unlikeliest places. We chanced upon Invisible City because we bumped into its star, Lowri Jenkins, wandering across the Meadows carrying a flag advertising her show. She was engaging enough to spark our curiosity, so we sought out the hard-to-find Venue 13 right down at the end of the Royal Mile, and we’re glad we did.

This deceptively simple tale is a monologue featuring Marie, a young woman from a remote village in Wales, seeking her fortune in the big city. There’s much to recommend it. Take the opening scene, where Jenkins bravely explores the comic possibilities of saying the word, ‘Yes,’ in just about every variation possible. In the hands of a less skilled performer, this could have backfired horribly, but she handles it well and we soon realise that she is midway through a conversation with her Mam, back in Wales, one of many that we’re treated to. Invisible City starts of as a comedy but developed into an affecting study of loneliness and isolation. At first Marie is full of boundless optimism, eager to make friends and find a job. But as the play progresses she’s reduced to trying to start up a romantic liaison… with a lemon.

The piece is a collaboration between writer/performer Jenkins, choreographer Jennifer Fletcher and composer Mat Martin. It ranges from the hilarious (Marie’s hapless attempts to shop at a state-of-the-art supermarket) and the downright tragic – her eventual descent into depression.

It’s by no means a perfect production – occasionally some of the movement scenes feel slightly overplayed – but it’s charming and original. A scene where Jenkins sings an old Welsh hymn is particularly poignant. Do take the trouble to seek this out. I think you’ll be glad you did.

4 stars

Philip Caveney