Edinburgh Festival Fringe

Walking the Tightrope, Edinburgh Festival Fringe

Over the course of last year, several high profile political art events were cancelled due to protests and political action. The Tricycle Theatre pulled the UK Jewish Film Festival that was part-funded by the Israeli government (then changed its decision after it was too late), Barbican art installation “Exhibit B” that depicted black people (actual people, not mannequins) in cages closed the day after it opened, and Underbelly cancelled Israeli hip-hop musical The City at the Fringe last year after its first preview. More recently, the National Youth Theatre stopped a new play, Homegrown, about Islamic extremists from opening for reasons that are still unclear. These events polarized audiences, artists and others, re-sparking the censorship debate: should art be censored? If so, under what circumstances? Should racist/offensive/morally questionable art and/or art funded by racist/offensive/morally questionable sources be censored? Producers and venues also asked themselves: how far do the protests have to go before we have to give in?

Eight, 5-minutes plays by established playwrights in response to these event cancellations, followed by a panel discussion with rotating guests, create Walking the Tightrope: The Tension Between Art and Politics. Today’s panel was Jonathan Mills (Former Director, Edinburgh International Festival), Fergus Linehan (Director, Edinburgh International Festival) and Tim Fountain (writer). A cast of four excellently performs the mini-plays; the scripts are powerful and constructively contribute to the debate, and the discussion itself can become a piece of one-off theatre once the audience is handed the microphones.

For uncomfortable shock value, Neil Labute’s two-hander Exhibit A gives us Syrus Lowe as an artist and Melissa Woodbridge as a drugged art student. As Lowe’s character performs his latest piece on a bound, moaning Woodbridge, he challenges the audience to intervene, or object that what he does is not art. Whilst what he does is awful to witness, it is equally disturbing that the audience does not respond to his challenges.

Tim Fountain’s Beyond the Fringe is a hilarious and thought-provoking family piece. The mum is a writer trying to stop the Israeli performance at Underbelly, her son is a fringe performer who is going to see the show. I find myself relating to, and laughing at, both of their perspectives, illustrating the multi-faceted complexity the issue poses.

What Are We Going To Do About Harry? is Mark Revenhill’s contribution that personalises the dilemma between maintaining funding streams from the white, middle-class and meeting diversity targets by disenfranchising these backers. This is another piece with no easy solution to the problem it poses.

Other highlights are Timberlake Wertenbaker’s satire of the BBC, Shampoo, and Re:Exhibit by Gbolahan Obisesan that stages an imaginary casting for the banned “Exhibit B.” The final play, Tickets Are Now on Sale by Caryl Churchill was an anti-climax, but still a witty look at funding sources. Another letdown was that in such a politically charged event, only two of the eight performed plays were by women.

The post-show discussion provided additional commentary and historical context to the cancellations. Jonathan Mills, former Edinburgh International Festival director, and current director Fergus Linehan explain that protests against the arts have been happening in Britain for a long time. Tim Fountain elucidates that Underbelly eventually came to the decision to cancel the Israeli show because the protests had grown to such an extent that protesters were affecting other performances and audiences in the venue.

Fountain and Mills go on to discuss the challenges faced by police and venue security, then address whether all art is inherently political: “If all art is political, it becomes agit-prop.” Art is political, but is also has other functions, such an engagement and humour. Linehan touches on funding and calls for cases to be looked at individually. Fountain discusses venues’ loyalties to their artists in the face of adversity, and then the audience has the chance to ask the panel questions.

Q1: Is there ever a place for boycott in the arts?

Q2: How can a space for discussion within the festival be created?

And, then “Q3”.

Now, what happens isn’t even a question, but a tirade that personalised last year’s protests at Underbelly. An older lady who protested The City explains that the Palestinians supported the production boycott and even though their protest was disruptive, the protesters were also treated horribly. The panel attempt to respond and placate: both sides behaved badly, we need to create a space where both artists and protesters can be heard, etc. Fountain simply states, “You won.” The woman was having none of it, tensions rise on both sides, and she walks out.

Whilst this becomes an improvised, topical performance in itself with passions and viewpoints laid bare in preparation for battle, the woman’s preface to her comment sticks with me:

She explains that she isn’t an artist, and is completely removed from the “mystical process” of making art. She is just an ordinary person.

It saddens me that the creative process is still considered some sort of abstraction by people who are somehow not considered normal citizens who do a job, trying to make a living. This singular comment proves that artists are not engaging enough with “ordinary people”. This isn’t about getting bums on seats. It’s about not engaging the wider population in the process of how art is made.

Perhaps if this lady, and the wider population of non-artists, did not feel so alienated from the creative process and artists themselves, both sides of this fight would have a greater understanding of the other. Imagine what society would be like if the general public and British government actually comprehended what was involved in making art and saw it as work rather than a “mystical process”.

Take a moment, picture that world, then decide what you’re going to do about it.

The Play’s The Thing UK is an independent theatre criticism website maintained voluntarily. Whilst donations are never expected, they are hugely appreciated and will enable more time to be spent reviewing theatre productions of all sizes. Click here to make a donation with PalPal.

Edinburgh Festival Fringe, 17 August: Part Two

Hailing from LA, Waitless is a semi-autobiographical play about newlyweds Shelly and Trent, from the American south but living in New York. Trent works in finance and Shelly in TV production, but when Trent’s job transfers him to London, Shelly gives up her career to go with him. Told through heightened, contemporary farce with moments of sincerity, Waitless shows that the cultural gap between the UK and US is bigger than you think.

Actors Jessica Moreno and Andrew Boyle play all of the stereotyped characters, with the primary focus on Shelly’s emotional struggle and adjustment from career woman to housewife. Moreno seems to be the stronger performer here, but she has more to work with. Because they are using such a heightened performance style, moments of truthfulness are rare. A more naturalistic performance style would better serve the story’s message and give the actors meatier roles to explore, however both performers are extremely energetic and they have some lovely stand-alone scenes together.

These scenes make nice set pieces, but as a cohesive whole, the play could use a bit more substance. Shelly needs more intimate, honest moments alone with the audience when Trent is away for work to give the script a bit more weight. The ending is also abrupt and open, which doesn’t show a completed character arc. There is certainly scope for the play to be lengthened. There are heaps of jokes and references that I appreciate as an American who also relocated to the UK, but this narrows the play’s target audience down to a small demographic. It’s telling that I was the only person in the audience who chuckled at some of Shelly’s digs at British culture: British people won’t relate to her frustration, and neither will Americans who have never lived abroad. Any immigrant will be able to empathise with her situation though, at least in part.

Overall, it’s a great issue to look at onstage. Immigration is a hot topic in many countries, and the immigrant experiences in the news focuses on an entirely different demographic. Those who quietly relocate to work or study largely go unnoticed, often battling the cultural adjustment alone and unsupported. The script needs some adjustment in order to truly capture the emotional upheaval and rediscovery that comes from this momentous life change, but it is heading in the right direction.

The Play’s The Thing UK is an independent theatre criticism website maintained voluntarily. Whilst donations are never expected, they are hugely appreciated and will enable more time to be spent reviewing theatre productions of all sizes. Click here to make a donation with PalPal.

Edinburgh Festival Fringe, 17 August: Part One

Today should have been a great day. A morning show in Summerhall, a venue that consistently stages innovative work, followed by an afternoon play affectionately looking at a topic I very much relate to. Both Current Location by FellSwoop Theatre and Waitless by Cailin Harrison have some good ideas and individual moments, but individual production elements don’t quite fit together to form a cohesive whole.

Current Location is an adaptation of the Japanese play by Toshiki Okada, set in a coastal village, presumably in England, with a minimalist script and design. It feels quite Scandinavian (which suits the simile I will use shortly). Four women anxiously rehearse for a performance, then another arrives who disrupts the natural chemistry of the group. She is soaked from a sudden downpour from the blue, “bad luck cloud” that recently appeared over the village. Its appearance effects the entire population: animals are behaving strangely and people are no longer talking to each other. Rumours abound of a coming disaster; the women we see are split – some believe them, others don’t. As the play progresses, climate change intensifies as does character conflict. Some believe nature will soon cause the village to disappear, others refuse that it’s a possibility.

The premise and climate change message are certainly interesting, but the execution doesn’t make sufficient impact. There is no set and no stage lights, and the room is too big for this intimate piece. The traverse staging and naturalistic performance style chosen by director Bertrand Lesca causes lines to be completely lost if the performers’ backs are to the audience. Some vital moments were missed completely because they couldn’t be heard. It is a frustrating experience that would work better on film. The classical score that accompanies, whilst beautiful, also doesn’t improve the volume issue. Despite the naturalistic performance, the actors sit in the audience when they are off stage (sometimes), creating an inconsistent style.

The production rather reminded me of Ikea. Minimalist Scandinavian design, looks great on paper, but once constructed it doesn’t hold up very well. Other than the volume, the performances are good and character arguments are satisfying explosions of pent up frustration. Florence (Caitlin Ince) is the leader of the bunch who violently insists on maintaining the staus quo and that the village will be fine, of course. Hannah (Pia Laborde Noguez) is the late arriving disruptor who is quickly dealt with. The other three, Eva (Charlotte Allan), Jayne (Emma Keaveney Roys) and Elisabeth (Roisin Kelly), capture the uncertainly of a world on the brink of disaster. A script of five female roles is certainly commendable but their microcosmic conflicts don’t carry the gravitas of a major world issue. Like a piece of Ikea furniture that’s full of promise in the catalogue, it is disappointingly insubstantial and the component parts don’t quite fit together properly once out of the package and assembled.

The Play’s The Thing UK is an independent theatre criticism website maintained voluntarily. Whilst donations are never expected, they are hugely appreciated and will enable more time to be spent reviewing theatre productions of all sizes. Click here to make a donation with PalPal.

Hannah and Hanna, Edinburgh Festival Fringe

CultureClash’s debut production, Hannah and Hanna by John Retellack, is a perfect fit for company co-founders and actors Cassandra Hercules and Serin Ibrahim. It’s as if Retellack wrote it for them. Written and set in 2001, Hannah and Hanna takes place in Margate as the British government temporarily re-homes thousands of Kosovan refugees in down-at-heel seaside towns, causing predictable social backlash. Hannah is black British, Hanna is from Kosovo. Both are 16, love pop music and navigating life as teenagers. This production is ably directed by Greenwich Theatre artistic director James Haddrell, and well performed, but the sentimental script with a predictable story arc lets down the talent in the production.

The play is definitely still relevant to current immigration debate and highlights the absurd anti-immigration mindset through Hannah’s Afro-Caribbean heritage. She and her boyfriend Bull verbally and physically abuse Kosovan teenagers, after which Hannah returns home to her thick-accented Nan. The irony is blatant, but funny. Of course, constant violence is unsustainable in a two-hander about teenaged girls, so after a huge English v Kosovan fight, understanding is reached and friendship develops. It’s sweet. Not saccharine, there are still lovely ups and disturbing downs. Hannah goes through a radical transformation very quickly that her social circle struggles to cope with. Hanna has already encountered the horror of war before the play begins, so is the more mature one of the pair, but this is still a coming of age story for both girls.

Hercules and Ibrahim are wonderfully believable as 16-year-olds, and they endow their roles with commitment and energy. The script restricts them by being heavy with narration; the scenes between them are the best moments. They skillfully take on other characters using clear physical and vocal differences and have a lovely, watchable chemistry. Haddrell’s stylized fight choreography serves the narration and pop music theme, but they play’s message may have come across more consistently if the fighting would have looked realistic.

It’s a sensitively chosen showcase for the new company founders, but the script’s references are dated and the ending is revealed in the beginning. Smaller details are surprises, but it’s otherwise easy to see where the story will head. It still packs a potent message and is certainly worth seeing, and this is a company worth watching.

The Play’s The Thing UK is an independent theatre criticism website maintained voluntarily. Whilst donations are never expected, they are hugely appreciated and will enable more time to be spent reviewing theatre productions of all sizes. Click here to make a donation with PalPal.

Ideas Tap Underbelly Award, Edinburgh Festival Fringe

Now-defunct Ideas Tap lives on at Underbelly with solo shows selected from shortlisted applicants to one of their funding briefs. The Eulogy of Toby Peach is a witty, hopeful autobiography of a young man diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma at age 20. Brute darkly reflects back to writer/performer Izzy Tennyson’s school days at a low-performing girls’ school in a nameless English town. Much Further Out Than You Thought is the slow-burning delusion of a veteran suffering from PTSD. Wildly different in tone but with some excellent moments and good performances, these shows are good representatives of emerging solo performance at the Fringe.

The Eulogy of Toby Peach, by Toby Peach, is a eulogy in that it celebrates his life and continued survival after two bouts of cancer that could return at any time. He speaks to us quietly with numbers, statistics and anecdotes from his life with cancer in between episodes of The Cancer Club, of which half of us will eventually become members. “Cancer is you,” he explains, like, “a terrible one-man show where you play all the parts.” At The Cancer Club there are all sorts of complicated cocktails and the constant threat of remission, but Toby is lucky that his girlfriend Kristy is always by his side. The Cancer Club gets a lot of laughs, but it is equally horrifying.

The audience also discovers the NHS “wank room”, the Willy Wonka-esque magical machine that facilitates stem cell treatment, and the biological consequences of his chemotherapy. Peach is a charming, confident performer who is able to confront the awfulness of cancer with humour, hope and warmth. He switches back and forth between his everyday self and heightened versions of Toby, which maintains audience focus, a clear narrative and varied performance styles. The fear and anger that eventually emerge are truthful and fully justified without coming across as ranting or indulgent. His show is hopeful rather than wallowing, and his infectious enthusiasm leaves the audience completely on his side and reminded to appreciate those closest to them.

Brute takes an entirely different tone and has less of an emphasis on narrative, sticking to one constant character who reenacts excerpts from day-to-day life. Some of her monologues are connected, some are isolated. Poppy is in year 11, exams are looming and her friendship group is small and constantly in flux. It’s easy for adults to brush off teenage relationships, but Brute is a reminder of just how horrible kids can be to each other, particularly girls.

Izzy Tennyson is Poppy’s creator/performer, speaking to us directly about her friends, teachers and family. It is never clear what her relationship is with the audience, but they are treated like a diary or confidante. As over-dramatic as some her stories can be, Tennyson employs a stark honesty that demonstrates the complexity and viciousness of teenage friendships. She also brings up self-image; Poppy is not one of the Pretty Girls, but a troll and a virgin, like the other girls in her group. They regularly engage in bullying, isolation and bitchiness as a way of joking or communicating how they feel about each other. It’s pretty horrible to watch, but countered with a good deal of humour. Tennyson’s performance is relentlessly energetic and committed; teenaged sarcasm alternates with hurt and anger that builds to a violent climax on the last day of school. There is no performance style variation, but the power of this piece lies in the content. It’s a stark reminder of how tough it is to be a kid, even more so now with the role of technology in teenager’s lives.

So we’ve covered cancer and horrible teenage behaviour. To continue with Serious Issues, Giles Roberts’ Much Further Out Than You Thought presents a lonely veteran who has lost everything. Lance Corporal James Randall lives in a dusty flat and talks to his young son, Danny, about the experiences in Afghanistan that have left him a quivering husk of a man. The set is a simple living room, but the floor is covered in gravel and sand, the desert that James has not been able to leave behind. The first half of the play is an evenly delivered and reflective monologue about his desire to serve, enlistment and more mundane aspects of life with the British army. As it starts to feel on the lengthy side and lacking development, James abruptly relives a pivotal mission supported by powerful lighting design by Elliot Griggs. The audience sees the man he once was, a stark contrast the man he is now.

From this scene the script continues to grow, ending with a disarming revelation about Danny, and James’ plans for the future. The character develops rapidly in the second half of the play, showing Roberts’ range and emotional depth as an actor. It’s hard to empathise with James at first, but as his laddish, South London boy exterior breaks down, so does the audience. The beginning of the script could do with some editing, but the end redeems the production and sends the message home. Society is simply not doing enough to take care of our veterans.

None of these new plays take on buoyant subject matter, but all three convey important social messages. The performances are excellent and clearly demonstrate the conviction of emerging theatre artists to catalyze social change through their work. These shows could use further development and refining, but show promising developments in solo performance and carry Ideas Tap’s legacy.

The Play’s The Thing UK is an independent theatre criticism website maintained voluntarily. Whilst donations are never expected, they are hugely appreciated and will enable more time to be spent reviewing theatre productions of all sizes. Click here to make a donation with PalPal.

Bruce, Edinburgh Festival Fringe

Who knew a block of yellow foam could be such fun? Bruce is the not very bright, cop-turned-novelist-turned-astronaut, stuck in a time warp, lead character of Bruce. Created and controlled by Tim Watts and Wyatt Nixon-Lloyd, Bruce is a rectangular, Sponge Bob-like head with a white pair of hands. All of the other characters are played by the same head and hands, but Watts and Nixon-Lloyd use an array of voices to effectively distinguish them from each other.

The pace is relentless, perhaps too much so at the beginning as the audience starts to work out the story. When the time travel element is introduced at the end, it is similarly a lot to process at speed. The script is wonderfully funny, with a mix of humour styles and jokes catering to a wide variety of tastes. The puppetry is well rehearsed, with the two actors working in smooth tandem without any lag between the one controlling the head and the one playing the hands.

The entire concept is simple, but well executed and without self-referential flourish. The most complex aspect is the script, which has sufficient detail to keep audience interest. Laughs were widespread and regular. There isn’t a deeper level of social comment; Bruce is silly for the sake of it. I generally prefer my comedy with a heavy dose of social commentary, but after the serious shows I’ve seen over the past few days, this is a welcome break.

The Play’s The Thing UK is an independent theatre criticism website maintained voluntarily. Whilst donations are never expected, they are hugely appreciated and will enable more time to be spent reviewing theatre productions of all sizes. Click here to make a donation with PalPal.

Tether, Edinburgh Festival Fringe

Mark is an aspiring Olympian who just isn’t good enough to make Team GB’s marathon team. Becky is a completely blind marathon runner who needs a guide when she runs. Tether isn’t about running, though. Two deeply flawed individuals find themselves in an unusual relationship where they must navigate clashing aspirations, inherent selfishness and potholes.

Playwright Isley Lynn’s script is some of the best new writing I’ve seen in a long time. The characters are intricately detailed and exquisitely sculpted with enough contrasting goals to create natural dramatic conflict without excess. Using Mark’s girlfriend and Becky’s running club mate as a point of reference in their conversation prevents the play from becoming just about Mark and Becky, placing it in the real world even though we only ever see the two of them. The story’s dramatic arc is textbook, but hugely effective with a satisfying resolution. My only issue is the length – this play simply must be lengthened so the story can be continued. I was so engrossed that the abrupt ending was frustrating.

Lee Drage’s and Maisie Greenwood’s performances are similarly excellent; the characters are a gift for any performer. Considering they are actually running for a large part of the play, their endurance is admirable. Both embark on a journey of softening and discovery: Mark realises how selfish he is; Becky gradually drops her prickly guard and is able to trust Mark. The massive argument they barrel towards is a necessary and inevitable wake up call for both of them. Also commendable is casting visually impaired Greenwood as Becky. Director Bethany Pitts uses simple but effective staging and the clever use of harnesses allows for a realistic run and an obvious metaphor.

This is an unmissable new play from a Royal Court graduate that offers insight into a world rarely considered before the London Paralympics 2012. It is a great step towards increasing the visibility of disabled performers and deserves further attention beyond Edinburgh Fringe.

The Play’s The Thing UK is an independent theatre criticism website maintained voluntarily. Whilst donations are never expected, they are hugely appreciated and will enable more time to be spent reviewing theatre productions of all sizes. Click here to make a donation with PalPal.

Edinburgh Festival Fringe, 13 August: Part Two

Camilla Whitehill’s Where Do Little Birds Go? tells the true story of Lisa Prescott, an 18-year-old nightclub hostess kidnapped by the Kray twins in 1966. Re-named Lucy Fuller, Jessica Butcher tells Prescott’s story through this harrowing solo performance. Humour and music are used to break up the horror of Fuller’s imprisonment with an escaped murderer who rapes her for hours on end, but some of the music transitions feel forced. Lucy loves singing; Butcher shares this love with gusto. She also wonderfully and ever so slowly transitions from the bright eyed, bushy tailed girl from Hastings who moved to London with hopes, dreams and £5 in her pocket, to a quietly streetwise, mature young woman.

Whitehill’s script contains some witty one-liners but doesn’t shy away from graphic incidents, like Lucy adventures as a nightclub hostess who offers “afters” to her best clients, and her experiences at the hands of the Krays. Justin Nardella’s set is Winston’s, the Mayfair club where Lucy worked before her capture and after her release. It cleverly uses sturdy levels to break up Fuller’s movements, but some of director Sarah Meadows’ blocking feels arbitrary. Meadows does have a good sense of storytelling, but struggles with the script’s abrupt ending. The audience never learns the how Lucy regained her freedom, though Butcher’s excellent performance draws attention away from this issue. Overall, this is a good offering from Duckdown Theatre and Heavy Weather Theatre that with further script development could be an excellent play.

https://i0.wp.com/lovelettershome.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/Love-Letters-Summerhall.jpgMy last production of the day is Katharine Rose Williams Radojičić’s Love Letters to the Home Office, which receives a one-off table reading at Summerhall. This is one of the most important plays of contemporary British theatre. Not because of innovation or style, but content: it exposes the consequences of the 2012 Home Office legislation that breaches the human rights of an estimated 50,000 families in the UK.

This new ruling states that in order for a UK citizen to bring their non-European spouse into the country, the UK partner must earn a minimum of £18,600 a year or have £62,500 in savings. With travel and technology connecting people unlike that in past generations, couples forming from all corners of the globe are becoming more and more common. The income requirement discriminates against the working poor, though. It means that if the UK partner earns the minimum wage, they must work 60 hours a week. People who work in many jobs vital to UK societal function would not be able to living in the UK with their non-EEA partners. Such roles include teaching assistants, cleaners, caretakers, administrators, technicians, support workers, receptionists, and so on. The non-EEA partner’s income and savings are not considered in the application. Basically, if you are poor, you better fall in love with someone that is a European citizen or you will not be able to live together as a married couple unless you leave the UK.

Love Letters to the Home Office uses verbatim theatre from real-life people affected by this ruling. It is a politically charged play with a clear agenda: to spread the word about this home-wrecking Tory ruling. The stories are heart rending. A little boy stranded with his mum in America calls his Samsung tablet Dada. A single mum who can’t earn the required income because she is caring for her daughter must wait until her daughter’s old enough to go to school before increasing her working hours. A woman from the Philippines is unable to attend her husband’s funeral in the UK because her visa application had been rejected. These stories go on and on. There’s also a lot of factual information in the script that quotes from government legislation and academic studies amongst the actual stories. I struggle to imagine a dynamic staging and want to hear more first-hand accounts, but the script content is still hugely powerful and a motivational call to action.

The programme contains advice on how to engage politically if you are moved to act. It also has links to the project’s website, with many more accounts from people affected by this law. The website also allows for contributions, which opens the play to potential of constant change. The script could alter with every performance in order to provide a voice for these oppressed people who did nothing more than fall in love with a non-European whilst earning less than £18,600 a year.

The Play’s The Thing UK is an independent theatre criticism website maintained voluntarily. Whilst donations are never expected, they are hugely appreciated and will enable more time to be spent reviewing theatre productions of all sizes. Click here to make a donation with PalPal.

Edinburgh Festival Fringe, 13 August: Part One

It’s fair to say that I’m not generally drawn to comedy or light subject matter. My favourite theatre is intense, serious and powerful, often with a heavy dose of suffering and/or death. I might need a break from all the despair after today, though. From mental health to forced prostitution to the government breaking up families, I’ve been put through the emotional wringer. These four productions are radically different in style and execution, catering to diverse audiences, but all are excellent offerings at this year’s fringe.

my-beautiful-black-dog_681x500My Beautiful Black Dog at Udderbelly Cowgate is a rock musical/gig/spoken word/live art show created and performed by southeast Londoner Brigitte Aphrodite. It celebrates her depression, or as she calls it in attempt to accept it as part of who she is, Creshendorious. There is glitter and sequins everywhere, emphasizing her party girl highs and contrasting her lows. Aphrodite is honest, frank and a highly skilled wordsmith in her songs and spoken text. Her songs manage to be both dry and celebratory; they create a party-like atmosphere that has the audience dancing and laughing along. It is rough and ready, and intimate, like a secret basement gig by your favourite band. The projected images and song titles added an element of set, but weren’t particularly needed and sometimes hard to see on the theatre’s brick back wall. On stage with her is Quiet Boy, who provides backing vocals, guitar accompaniment and a character who tries to coax her out of the road case she sometimes hides in, but it is very much Aphrodite’s show.

The party vibe abruptly drops when Aphrodite reads a (glittery) letter that explains exactly how she feels when she is fighting her black dog. Her honesty is brutal, but necessary. My Beautiful Black Dog takes a (sequined) tyre iron to the stigma and silence surrounding mental health issues. In these moments, the shine is a shallow sticking plaster, trite and useless. Rather than ending on a somber note, she ends on a song – not a happy ending, but a hopeful one. Aphrodite knows her depression will return, but next time may it be with understanding and acceptance from those around her. This production is difficult to experience, particularly if mental health issues affect you. It forces open a dialogue about mental health issues and even though it a (sparkly) genre mash-up, it is a vital show that could be scaled up to a big show, complete with lights, confetti and the sparkle it deserves.

Blind_Mans_Song,_Edinburgh_Fringe_2015,_courtesy_Francois_Verbeek_1_751x500Blind Man’s Song in Pleasance Dome is Theatre Re’s non-verbal dance theatre offering this year. As blind man Alex Judd plays keyboard and electric violin, a masked Guillaume Pigé and Selma Roth personify the images and emotions in his head. There is love, violence, travel, and a host of other encounters between the characters. There are moments of narrative, but this piece is very much open to individual interpretation. A simple, black set paired with smoke, side lighting and timeless costumes evokes the silent film era or a painting coming to life. The soaring emotion in the blind man’s music could imply that these are his memories or dreams. The mood and music varied enough throughout to maintain audience attention, and the performers’ skills in dance and mime were evident. It’s a captivating watch, if a little long. Sadly, some of the audience members were less appreciative. An older couple noisily left part way through and an American voice a few rows back at one point proclaimed, “This is stupid.” Abhorrent behaviour.

The music is richly augmented by a recorded track, but deliberately repetitive and grating at times. I found my mind wandering occasionally, but this was due to a moment triggering my own imagination. The young boy sitting in front of me had some lovely responses to the piece that drew my eye away from the stage: at times he conducted the music, at others he swayed mirroring the performers on stage, or wiggling abstractly in a dance of his own. Blind Man’s Song certainly triggers strong reactions from its audience though strangely, not all positive. It is a meditative, evocative performance if an individual permits it to be, but perhaps a challenging offering to our short attention spans.

The Play’s The Thing UK is an independent theatre criticism website maintained voluntarily. Whilst donations are never expected, they are hugely appreciated and will enable more time to be spent reviewing theatre productions of all sizes. Click here to make a donation with PalPal.

Catalpa, Edinburgh Festival Fringe

tumblr_inline_nrvc51lXq21ty6pcm_500In 1876, Captain George Anthony was hired to sail The Catalpa from Massachusetts to Freemantle, Australia to rescue six Irish prisoners. Numerous difficulties nearly scuppered the mission, creating fascinating narrative potential for songwriters and playwrights. Actor/writer Donal O’Kelly frames this nautical tale with a frustrated screenwriter who keeps being rejected by Hollywood producers. After the latest, “no”, he returns to his flat alone and enacts the entire story he sees in his head that no one appreciates. Youthful American company 35 Brookline brings this one-man show from Boston to Edinburgh with a great performance by Joseph Freeman, but some script issues and production choices prevent this play from reaching its full potential.

There are some wonderful moments. Freeman’s ability to embody honest tenderness as George saying goodbye to wife Greta and daughter Pearl, and later imagining them on his journey, are the best in the play. The model Catalapa at sea on the screenwriter’s bed with a small torch sun is simple but effective object manipulation. Freeman’s energy and commitment to the role are excellent and unwavering. In a play written 20 years ago, Freeman feels too young for the screenwriter character, though. The language doesn’t sit organically in a contemporary character of his age and a man reaching that level of bitterness is usually middle-aged rather than early-to-mid twenties, though his youth suits the characters in the Catalpa story.

The introduction of O’Kelly’s script is rushed, not giving the performer enough time to suitably build to the desperation required to carry him through the enactment of his script alone in his flat. It’s also an unconvincing scenario, and one that feels plausible with the addition of copious amounts of alcohol. The script also fails to return to the screenwriter at the end of the play, creating an abrupt ending and the feeling of incompletion.

Though the pace and energy are generally good with suitable attention paid to the more intimate moments, other climactic moments could have been slowed down more. The story depicted in lengthy and complicated, which can be hard to follow at pace. I’m unsure whether this is a script or directorial issue, but it’s easy to lose track of the story. There is much more potential for sound and lighting detail to add even more atmosphere, but this is underused. What is there is supportive of the story with the exception of a few blackouts.

This is certainly a quirky and endearing piece of theatre, but one that does not manage to fully satisfy. The story is wonderful as is Freeman’s performance, but other elements of the production don’t knit together as smoothly as they could.

The Play’s The Thing UK is an independent theatre criticism website maintained voluntarily. Whilst donations are never expected, they are hugely appreciated and will enable more time to be spent reviewing theatre productions of all sizes. Click here to make a donation with PalPal.