Callàs Company
Greenside Venue
5 Aug 2013
runs until 24 Aug 2013
Going along to this show encompasses what I love about the Fringe. A random conversation with a theatregoer at C venues led to my and friend and I making a mad dash to see his show at Greenside on our lunch break, with very little idea of what it would be like. As it turns out, this is one of my favourite shows of the Fringe so far — funny, charming, lacking in pretension and altogether wonderful.
The concept works beautifully: two characters live in a silent world, one in the realm of imagination and mime, and the other in the realm of physical reality. They meet, become friends, fall in love. It sounds a bit too simple to engage your attention, but the characters' discovery of each other's worlds is imaginative and witty, as mutual bafflement raises many a laugh. James Callàs Ball and Jasmine Blackborow's mime is a joy to watch as the invisible, imaginary world is effortlessly brought to life through their performance, bringing humour to this light-hearted production without becoming over-exaggerated. It is, strangely, an utterly believable show despite its surreal plot.
Being only forty minutes, the show is a neat little production but should not be overlooked in the Fringe's saturated programme, being well-constructed and faultlessly performed by a talented cast of two, in a new company making its début at the Fringe. The jazz soundtrack is reminiscent of the silent movies of the 1930s, but with a fresh twist and beat which helps to keep the pace quick and light. A spot of audience participation at the curtain call means I can now say I have (technically) performed on a Fringe stage, so extra thanks must go to them for that!
A definite recommendation for theatregoers of all ages: I defy you to leave without a smile on your face.
Showing posts with label Edinburgh Fringe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Edinburgh Fringe. Show all posts
Friday, 9 August 2013
Tuesday, 16 July 2013
Edinburgh Fringe 2013: Pre-festival Picks
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| Photo by byronv2 under Creative Commons licence |
With all those options offering thousands of different emotions, experiences and possibilities, how on earth do you separate the good, the bad and the ugly from your Fringe guide? I decided to come up with a Top 10 list of intriguing, promising or exciting things from this year's festival — except, of course, there's too much to choose from so even I had to resort to a Top 15 instead. Check 'em out:
1. I Need A Doctor: The Unauthorised Whosical Adventure — Stormy Teacup Theatre Ltd./Pleasance Courtyard/31 Jul – 26 Aug/£6-11
Being a massive fan of Doctor Who and of musicals, I couldn't really ignore this one. A parody of the beloved BBC One series with songs such as 'Companion's Lament' and 'Phonebox of Love', this is possibly the nerdiest show on the programme, but looks to be providing a healthy dose of silliness at the Pleasance Courtyard this year.
2. Titus Andronicus — Hiraeth Artistic Productions/theSpace@Surgeons Hall/2 – 24 Aug/£10-12
Shakespeare reinvented can go either of two ways, but this production may be on to an intelligent restaging. One of four productions of Titus Andronicus at the Fringe this year, this particular version reimagines the action of the Bard's goriest tragedy in the midst of 1980s Britain. It's a tough play to pull off, with all its over-the-top blood and guts — but in the violence of skinhead culture, the extreme emotions that lead to all this anger, vengeance and bloodshed start to make sense, and to really hit home.
3. Austentatious: An Improvised Jane Austen Novel — Milk Monitors/Laughing Horse @ The Counting House/1 – 25 Aug/Free Non-Ticketed
Anyone who read my blog during last year's Fringe may remember how I raved about this lot — and I'm so happy to say they're back! Some of the best improv you'll see in terms of quickness and hilarity, and all Austen-themed. Austentatious manages to mock the author's stereotypes whilst showing it holds much affection for her, and based on audience suggestions they construct a brand new Austen novel every day. Last year crowds were queuing down the street to see this, so arrive early! It's lovely, and pretty astounding, to see that the show is still part of the Free Fringe, as I'm sure the troupe could sell out a ticketed event with no problems. A hugely likeable comedy group who will have you in stitches.
4. Rachel Parris: The Commission — Laughing Horse @ The Counting House/1 – 25 Aug/Free Non-Ticketed
Following on from Austentatious, many of their members are involved in other shows at the festival, including the delightful Rachel Parris. Often taking the role of naive, pretty heroine in the Austen-themed tales, her solo performance is a chance to see a wider range of her comedic and musical skills, with topics such as Disney and The X Factor on the promised list of targets. It will be great to see this talented performer showing she's got a darker side and some real bite.
5. No Place Like — Le Mot Juste/Zoo/2 – 26 Aug/£4-9
A piece of physical, verbatim theatre inspired by real-life conversations, this work examines the lives of elderly care home residents: it's nice to see that the play promotes itself as "a celebration of life", rather than presenting these places as morbid or depressing, and there is the promise of comedy as well as poignancy in the variety of memories that emerge.
6. The Pin — Pleasance Courtyard/31 July – 26 Aug/£6-11
Again, this show is no new discovery for me as I saw these guys doing their thing — with much success, I might add — at university in Cambridge. Since then they've been busy making a name for themselves with a sell-out run at last year's Fringe. However, things have changed recently as the trio has become a duo: it'll be interesting to see how this changes their act, but with their usual combination of wit, silliness and deadpan delivery, booking early will surely still be necessary for these rising stars of the circuit.
7. Boys — No Prophet Theatre Company & Close Up Theatre/C aquila/1 – 26 Aug/£6.50-10.50
Last year No Prophet Theatre (starring Will Merrick of Skins fame) took on Simon Stephens' gritty shocker of a play, Punk Rock. And damn, was it good. They're following up that edge-of-the-seat performance this year with dark comedy Boys, also focusing on a group of adolescents, this time on the edge of adulthood as they graduate from university. Its "drug-fuelled irresponsibility" recalls the glory days of Skins, but No Prophet's 2012 production certainly showed that this group were not going to rely on the TV fame of one of their number. If the ensemble deliver as much electricity as last year, this will be one not to miss.
8. Nirbhaya — Assembly, Riverside Studios & Poorna Jagannathan/Assembly Hall/1 – 26 Aug/£10-16
Yael Farber took Edinburgh by storm in 2012, with a sell-out run for her searingly passionate and volatile Mies Julie, a South African adaptation of Strindberg's 19th century classic that became the hot ticket of the festival. This summer she returns with a piece of new writing, which is set to be even more blisteringly gut-wrenching. Nirbhaya is inspired by the gang rape and murder of Jyoti Singh Pandey in Delhi in 2012, which opened the floodgates for revelations about the brutal treatment of women in India; Nirbhaya (one of the pseudonyms used in the press for the victim, meaning 'fearless one') attempts to break through the silence that surrounded the issue. Mies Julie was the most powerful piece of theatre I have ever seen, and if Farber brings the same extraordinary rawness and explosiveness to these real-life events, it is sure to rock the Fringe this summer.
9. Dick Whittington — University of Bristol Pantomime Society/theSpace on North Bridge/2 – 17 Aug Aug/£4-7
Ok, ok — I'm a bit biased. There's a small chance one of my loveliest best friends is starring in this. Nevertheless it's also a great option if you want a bit of good old-fashioned fun and silliness with a healthy dose of grown-up wit and humour. These students from Bristol are experts at serving up everything you'd expect from a panto, but with added extras and without too much of the cheese on top. With romance, songs and a dastardly villain, this is sure to put a smile on your face — plus it's great value for money!
10. Voices Made Night — The Magnet Theatre Company & Baxter Theatre Centre/Assembly Hall/1 – 26 Aug/£10-15
It seems that South African theatre is showing us all how it's done. Here the nation's top physical theatre company arrive in Edinburgh with their adaptations of the short stories of Mozambican author, Mia Couto. Described previously as "the cutting edge of South African art and culture", this company seek to relate his tales of love, loss, transformation, damage and forgiveness through the use of physical theatre and ever-changing characterisation and movement. Expect theatre that is passionate, moving and altogether beautiful.
11. Our Glass House — Common Wealth/Summerhall/13 – 25 Aug/Free Ticketed
Promenade and site-specific theatre are always to be found scattered across a fringe festival, and can work either fantastically or terribly. A promenade piece always feels like a risky choice, as the directorial decisions are so different to those of a conventional narrative work. Yet if the effect is truly immersive, it can be incredibly powerful. One such production, which certainly has the potential to be uncomfortable in either a good or bad way, is Our Glass House, a new work exploring domestic abuse. Staging this in a residential house should bring home (literally) the reality of this issue, as it is seen in its true setting rather than within the artifice of a theatre. Using fantasy, songs and choreography, there are a lot of elements in this — it has the potential to be too fragmented to deliver real energy or power, but if it is judged right it could be a truly eye-opening and compelling work.
12. Alice in Wonderland — Oxford University Dramatic Society/C nova/31 Jul – 26 Aug/£4.50-10.50
Having taken on the tricky tale of a murderess, Machinal, at last year's Fringe, OUDS are back with the rather lighter offering of Alice in Wonderland. Bringing out the vibrant insanity and twisty darkness of Lewis Carroll's classic children's novel, this adaptation throws you right into the world of the Mad Hatter and all his weird and wonderful companions — jump down the rabbit hole if you dare!
13. Nish Kumar is a Comedian — Nish Kumar/Underbelly, Bristo Square/31 Jul – 25 Aug/£6-11
After catching him guest-performing at the Footlights Free Show last year (one to look out for, by the way), I was impressed by Nish Kumar's set. Charming, witty, fresh and sharp, he delivers easy gags that nonetheless have a bite to them: certainly a name to keep an eye on, his one-hour show at Underbelly will be a tenner well spent!
14. Desperately Seeking the Exit — Peter Michael Marino/Laughing Horse @ The Counting House/1 – 25 Aug/Free Non-Ticketed
When you've invested a whole heap of time and money into a new West End musical and it closes within a month, you might lock yourself in your house and weep for a year, hiding from the embarrassment and despondency that might accompany such a flop — certainly, you might hide from the critics who gave it a panning. Peter Michael Marino has done no such thing: when Desperately Seeking Susan (the plot of the Madonna film of the same name, with the hits of Blondie crammed unceremoniously into it) turned out to be a bit of an epic fail back in 2007, Marino turned the situation to his advantage. Taking his new show's title from a damning review by Charles Spencer, Desperately Seeking the Exit tells the tale of how his musical flopped so badly, turning a theatrical car crash into an original, brutally honest, camp yet sensitive comedy. A phoenix of a show — from the ashes comes a new triumph.
15. Jonny and the Baptists: Bigger Than Judas — Pleasance Dome/31 July – 26 Aug/£6-10
Some musical comedy to round up my picks of the programme. Last year while editing Ed Fringe Review, my co-editor and I discovered this band and listened to their hilarious album on repeat in times of stress. With catchy tunes, sharp satire and a dash of absolute nonsense, Jonny and the Baptists make you laugh even more each time you hear their songs, as you pick up subtleties and asides that may have slipped by you the first time. More than one visit is a must!
Thursday, 27 September 2012
Thoughts on being a critic...
Critics have themselves become the focus of criticism recently, with many an article and post on the matter emerging in recent months. This is me adding my thoughts into the mix - possibly in a slightly garbled manner, I grant you - about how I see it as a young critic, part of the new breed trying to break through.
Being a critic, in my experience, puts you in an odd position when it comes to the world of theatre. You're in amongst the action - yet you're not really in the fold. You're a part of the industry - but you're never going to be in the thesp or techie gang. It's not hard to see why, either. But, whilst knowing that being best mates and bosoms pals with the people you're critiquing would be not only awkward but potentially detrimental to your review, our strangely liminal position also saddens me a little: I truly believe that theatre critics are a necessary part of the performing arts industry. (Possibly it's also because I can't help a part of me in vain still believing, or hoping, that it's all glitz and glamour and fame.)
On a basic level, it provides the public with a service: recommendations of what to see, what to avoid (I know, you know this. There's a point to it, promise...). Just like a travel manual for a city, it's a map and a personal tour guide through the must-sees and don't-sees of what's currently on. Of course, it's the 'personal' bit that people can object to. Subjectivity of reviews is a common complaint that I've heard; and then, occasionally, there are those accusations of "Well they just didn't get it". Of course one person's opinion isn't necessarily the be-all and end-all on a show. We all know that. That's largely why I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing that more and more reviewers are emerging from different corners. The Edinburgh Fringe epitomised this issue this year, with a few whispers about too many reviewers diluting the relevancy of critical opinion. Yet the shows complain if anyone dares to suggest their (negative) review could represent a definitive truth - so we can't win really. The increasing number of opinions out there - from nationals to smaller publications to humble little blogs such as my own - should be celebrated (look at how many people are watching theatre, and thinking about it, and writing about it - it's GREAT!), acknowledged and used as a platform for conversation and debate. Critics should be speaking - personally and publicly - to each other to a wider extent to get even more people discussing and engaging with theatre. How could that possibly be a bad thing? Of course people want to reach the top of their field, and of course there's the practical business element: publications want to be selling more copies or getting more hits than their rivals. But - and I know I'm starting to sound a bit like that girl from Mean Girls - it would be exciting to have more visible communication and support between different kinds of critics to get conversation about theatre to a higher profile. Twitter is of course a great platform for this, and the debate just the other week about 'Ageist Arts' threw up some very interesting viewpoints and arguments. Yet it would be fascinating if there were more in-depth opportunities to discuss performances and industry issues in an open community (not just those who are lucky enough to get paid for what they write), interactively (the speed of Twitter is what makes the debate come alive) and without the restriction of 120 characters.
This of course would allow the old masters and the new kids on the block to converse and debate on an even playing field. Which brings up another issue in the world of the critic. Amateurs. Anyone with access with the internet can call themselves a critic these days, as a small number of disapproving writers have pointed out, their words dripping with disdain. I suppose you could say I'm proof of this, although my experience pre-blogging does come from positions and contributions I've had to apply for in some way. But I doubt it would have stopped me from publishing this blog if this hadn't been the case. It was a point that was thrown directly in the faces of some of our EFR reviewers at this year's Fringe: on two occasions that I know of, our student critics were challenged, on the Mile or in a venue, by someone who felt we were unfit to review. Who were we? What training had we had? What right had we to write "anything we liked" about these shows? Well, in a world of blogs and social networking and online interactivity, we can technically - within reason and the law of course - write anything we like. Of course, we don't. We have a particular aim, our reviewers were presented with style guides, tips and of course their reviews were edited if necessary. But the issue goes beyond practical points of organisation. These comments and accusations were troubling and offensive to me because of their attitude to young critics and student writers. I'm not sure what "training" these people expected us to have, but the best form of training is experience. Yes, you can improve your grammar, or perhaps be given lessons in the art of a witty opener. But if you're seeing lots of theatre, thinking lots about theatre and most of all writing lots about it, that's training: and that's the way to improve. Certainly, young and amateur reviewers such as myself and other EFR reviewers (and many, many others at the Fringe and beyond) will have less experience. It may appear laughable that I'm here writing about the way to becoming a good critic when I am only 21 and have only been reviewing for a couple of years. But to suggest that we stop reviewing for these reasons is ludicrous. The whole point is to encourage and, if you like, "train" a new generation of critics. Take, for example, the current production of Twelfth Night at the Globe: there is no press night until the West End transfer, a point discussed by Mark Shenton in his blog for The Stage ('Shenton's View'). Therefore, for the large part, the reviews coming in are unofficial, from the pens and keyboards of paying audience members: from those well-known for their writing (e.g. Dominic Cavendish, who took it upon himself to purchase a ticket in order to review the show) to those lesser known members of the public putting their opinion out there on blogs or social networking sites. And oh look - some of them are interesting, articulate, well-informed! Who knew! And although they may not have quite the readership that Cavendish's Telegraph review will have got, on that one night they saw and heard the same show as him, and decided to write up their thoughts, opinions and judgements just as he did. Some of them will be better written and have more supporting knowledge than others; but the point is that, unusually, these opinions are the ones that might be read for a change, in the absence of organised press. Which is great! Let's face it, if we leave it all up to the Michael Billingtons and Lyn Gardners of the world, what happens when they're no longer writing? And how does a new breed of young, enthusiastic, talented writers emerge if not through experience, practice and recognition?
This is one of the most frustrating elements of being a critic in the context of student theatre in particular. The investment into student productions can be epic in terms of time, emotion, creative belief and - sometimes - money. It is of course natural that nobody likes getting a negative review. Furthermore, it is certainly reasonable that performers, directors and anyone else involved should not expect to be personally attacked, mocked or insulted in a review - every comment should be fair, relevant and justified. But are reviewers extended the same courtesy? Well, not always. I have seen and heard critics being slated by dissatisfied thesps and comedians more savagely than the critic themselves slated the show. Why is it acceptable in one direction and not the other? There can be (and in most cases should be) a tendency to show generosity towards young performers, which is important to encourage fresh creative talent: they're trying something new; the intention was there, if not the execution; credit where it's due, they're a young team with potential; they're learning their way in the industry. Well, so are young critics. We too are learning how to be the best that we can be - developing our art, finding our voice, adjusting and practising and finding our way, and always improving. Feedback is great. Rejection and dismissal is not.
At university, there are so many opportunities to be a critic; beyond this, the trail in search of a paid job runs cold for many. Amongst all the schemes encouraging youngsters into the arts, critics should not be forgotten. Being dismissed as "amateurs" and therefore not worthy of having our opinion heard is disheartening, rather insulting and not healthy for the field, which needs to have new blood just as much as the realms of directing, writing and acting. I'm not saying everyone would write good reviews. But many would. And yes, I'll be confident and brave and say it - I would. We're all part of this fantastic industry, this amazing world of theatre - and we shouldn't be shut out.
Being a critic, in my experience, puts you in an odd position when it comes to the world of theatre. You're in amongst the action - yet you're not really in the fold. You're a part of the industry - but you're never going to be in the thesp or techie gang. It's not hard to see why, either. But, whilst knowing that being best mates and bosoms pals with the people you're critiquing would be not only awkward but potentially detrimental to your review, our strangely liminal position also saddens me a little: I truly believe that theatre critics are a necessary part of the performing arts industry. (Possibly it's also because I can't help a part of me in vain still believing, or hoping, that it's all glitz and glamour and fame.)
On a basic level, it provides the public with a service: recommendations of what to see, what to avoid (I know, you know this. There's a point to it, promise...). Just like a travel manual for a city, it's a map and a personal tour guide through the must-sees and don't-sees of what's currently on. Of course, it's the 'personal' bit that people can object to. Subjectivity of reviews is a common complaint that I've heard; and then, occasionally, there are those accusations of "Well they just didn't get it". Of course one person's opinion isn't necessarily the be-all and end-all on a show. We all know that. That's largely why I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing that more and more reviewers are emerging from different corners. The Edinburgh Fringe epitomised this issue this year, with a few whispers about too many reviewers diluting the relevancy of critical opinion. Yet the shows complain if anyone dares to suggest their (negative) review could represent a definitive truth - so we can't win really. The increasing number of opinions out there - from nationals to smaller publications to humble little blogs such as my own - should be celebrated (look at how many people are watching theatre, and thinking about it, and writing about it - it's GREAT!), acknowledged and used as a platform for conversation and debate. Critics should be speaking - personally and publicly - to each other to a wider extent to get even more people discussing and engaging with theatre. How could that possibly be a bad thing? Of course people want to reach the top of their field, and of course there's the practical business element: publications want to be selling more copies or getting more hits than their rivals. But - and I know I'm starting to sound a bit like that girl from Mean Girls - it would be exciting to have more visible communication and support between different kinds of critics to get conversation about theatre to a higher profile. Twitter is of course a great platform for this, and the debate just the other week about 'Ageist Arts' threw up some very interesting viewpoints and arguments. Yet it would be fascinating if there were more in-depth opportunities to discuss performances and industry issues in an open community (not just those who are lucky enough to get paid for what they write), interactively (the speed of Twitter is what makes the debate come alive) and without the restriction of 120 characters.
This of course would allow the old masters and the new kids on the block to converse and debate on an even playing field. Which brings up another issue in the world of the critic. Amateurs. Anyone with access with the internet can call themselves a critic these days, as a small number of disapproving writers have pointed out, their words dripping with disdain. I suppose you could say I'm proof of this, although my experience pre-blogging does come from positions and contributions I've had to apply for in some way. But I doubt it would have stopped me from publishing this blog if this hadn't been the case. It was a point that was thrown directly in the faces of some of our EFR reviewers at this year's Fringe: on two occasions that I know of, our student critics were challenged, on the Mile or in a venue, by someone who felt we were unfit to review. Who were we? What training had we had? What right had we to write "anything we liked" about these shows? Well, in a world of blogs and social networking and online interactivity, we can technically - within reason and the law of course - write anything we like. Of course, we don't. We have a particular aim, our reviewers were presented with style guides, tips and of course their reviews were edited if necessary. But the issue goes beyond practical points of organisation. These comments and accusations were troubling and offensive to me because of their attitude to young critics and student writers. I'm not sure what "training" these people expected us to have, but the best form of training is experience. Yes, you can improve your grammar, or perhaps be given lessons in the art of a witty opener. But if you're seeing lots of theatre, thinking lots about theatre and most of all writing lots about it, that's training: and that's the way to improve. Certainly, young and amateur reviewers such as myself and other EFR reviewers (and many, many others at the Fringe and beyond) will have less experience. It may appear laughable that I'm here writing about the way to becoming a good critic when I am only 21 and have only been reviewing for a couple of years. But to suggest that we stop reviewing for these reasons is ludicrous. The whole point is to encourage and, if you like, "train" a new generation of critics. Take, for example, the current production of Twelfth Night at the Globe: there is no press night until the West End transfer, a point discussed by Mark Shenton in his blog for The Stage ('Shenton's View'). Therefore, for the large part, the reviews coming in are unofficial, from the pens and keyboards of paying audience members: from those well-known for their writing (e.g. Dominic Cavendish, who took it upon himself to purchase a ticket in order to review the show) to those lesser known members of the public putting their opinion out there on blogs or social networking sites. And oh look - some of them are interesting, articulate, well-informed! Who knew! And although they may not have quite the readership that Cavendish's Telegraph review will have got, on that one night they saw and heard the same show as him, and decided to write up their thoughts, opinions and judgements just as he did. Some of them will be better written and have more supporting knowledge than others; but the point is that, unusually, these opinions are the ones that might be read for a change, in the absence of organised press. Which is great! Let's face it, if we leave it all up to the Michael Billingtons and Lyn Gardners of the world, what happens when they're no longer writing? And how does a new breed of young, enthusiastic, talented writers emerge if not through experience, practice and recognition?
This is one of the most frustrating elements of being a critic in the context of student theatre in particular. The investment into student productions can be epic in terms of time, emotion, creative belief and - sometimes - money. It is of course natural that nobody likes getting a negative review. Furthermore, it is certainly reasonable that performers, directors and anyone else involved should not expect to be personally attacked, mocked or insulted in a review - every comment should be fair, relevant and justified. But are reviewers extended the same courtesy? Well, not always. I have seen and heard critics being slated by dissatisfied thesps and comedians more savagely than the critic themselves slated the show. Why is it acceptable in one direction and not the other? There can be (and in most cases should be) a tendency to show generosity towards young performers, which is important to encourage fresh creative talent: they're trying something new; the intention was there, if not the execution; credit where it's due, they're a young team with potential; they're learning their way in the industry. Well, so are young critics. We too are learning how to be the best that we can be - developing our art, finding our voice, adjusting and practising and finding our way, and always improving. Feedback is great. Rejection and dismissal is not.
At university, there are so many opportunities to be a critic; beyond this, the trail in search of a paid job runs cold for many. Amongst all the schemes encouraging youngsters into the arts, critics should not be forgotten. Being dismissed as "amateurs" and therefore not worthy of having our opinion heard is disheartening, rather insulting and not healthy for the field, which needs to have new blood just as much as the realms of directing, writing and acting. I'm not saying everyone would write good reviews. But many would. And yes, I'll be confident and brave and say it - I would. We're all part of this fantastic industry, this amazing world of theatre - and we shouldn't be shut out.
Monday, 3 September 2012
Lessons From The Fringe
After a week at home recovering from Fringe Fatigue, it's time to reflect on my time in Edinburgh. In list form, because I'm moving to start a job tomorrow so things are a bit busy at the moment! So, with apologies for the slight lack of coherent prose, here's a smattering of things I learned at the Fringe:
1) Expect the unexpected.
I very quickly discovered that my capacity to be surprised dissolved and vanished away in Edinburgh. Things that I was doubtful about took my breath away, shows I looked forward to let me down; the Royal Mile was always providing another unexpected sight; old friends popped up at every corner, new friends emerged; and you never quite knew if you'd just walked past an unusually glamorous woman or one of the Ladyboys of Bangkok. So, I learned to leave all expectations behind me and be prepared for anything!
2) Deep fried Mars bars are not as nice as people tell you.
I was assured by two very trustworthy (or so I thought...) EFR reviewers that this stereotypically Scottish snack was in fact addictively tasty. I found it was disappointing and gave me stomach ache. Although, the fact that the Marchmont Takeaway (whose staff are lovely, by the way) will deep fry any of the confectionery that they sell makes a return visit tempting. Next time I'm going for a deep fried Crunchie - maybe that'll convert me to the cause. But I doubt it.
3) Do not attempt to walk down the Royal Mile if you're late.
Or, don't be late if you know you have to walk down the Mile. Or else, perfect your kamikaze dodging technique. The number of times I left with plenty of time to spare yet ended up sprinting the last couple of streets would fill an entire blog post of their own, and it was always because my route took me down the Mile. Even if you're a persistent flyer-dodger, it is a simple fact of the Fringe that you cannot get down that road quickly. Although quite honestly, why would you want to?
4) Living statues' paint is surprisingly waterproof.
Ok, this may not be a vital life lesson, but I was intrigued to hear from a silvery lady in Caffe Nero that in fact her metallic body paint would not run in the downpour that the Edinburgh skies were dumping on us. It's just that she didn't like rain very much.
5) ZOO Venues and Edinburgh Zoo are NOT the same place.
1) Expect the unexpected.
I very quickly discovered that my capacity to be surprised dissolved and vanished away in Edinburgh. Things that I was doubtful about took my breath away, shows I looked forward to let me down; the Royal Mile was always providing another unexpected sight; old friends popped up at every corner, new friends emerged; and you never quite knew if you'd just walked past an unusually glamorous woman or one of the Ladyboys of Bangkok. So, I learned to leave all expectations behind me and be prepared for anything!
2) Deep fried Mars bars are not as nice as people tell you.
I was assured by two very trustworthy (or so I thought...) EFR reviewers that this stereotypically Scottish snack was in fact addictively tasty. I found it was disappointing and gave me stomach ache. Although, the fact that the Marchmont Takeaway (whose staff are lovely, by the way) will deep fry any of the confectionery that they sell makes a return visit tempting. Next time I'm going for a deep fried Crunchie - maybe that'll convert me to the cause. But I doubt it.
3) Do not attempt to walk down the Royal Mile if you're late.
Or, don't be late if you know you have to walk down the Mile. Or else, perfect your kamikaze dodging technique. The number of times I left with plenty of time to spare yet ended up sprinting the last couple of streets would fill an entire blog post of their own, and it was always because my route took me down the Mile. Even if you're a persistent flyer-dodger, it is a simple fact of the Fringe that you cannot get down that road quickly. Although quite honestly, why would you want to?
4) Living statues' paint is surprisingly waterproof.
Ok, this may not be a vital life lesson, but I was intrigued to hear from a silvery lady in Caffe Nero that in fact her metallic body paint would not run in the downpour that the Edinburgh skies were dumping on us. It's just that she didn't like rain very much.
5) ZOO Venues and Edinburgh Zoo are NOT the same place.
Before someone makes a joke about dumb blondes, I
never had to learn this lesson - obvious, I thought. Apparently not, as one of
our reviewers proved when, just as she was enjoying the gift shop and panda
exhibit, she realised that in fact the play which was due to start ten minutes
later was not somewhere between the monkey and the meerkat enclosure, but the
other side of Edinburgh. In a theatre. Not a zoo. Just in case you're still
confused, here's a brief description from their websites: we've got "one
of the leading venue management companies on the
Edinburgh Fringe, with two thriving theatres at the heart of the Festival"
and "the largest and most exciting
wildlife attraction in Scotland, committed to the highest standards of animal
welfare, conservation and environmental education." Worked out which one
is which? Excellent. Remember that.
6) Not everything should have 'The Musical' stuck onto the end of the title.
There seems to be an ever-increasing sector of shows with this particular suffix. I love musicals - always have and always will. But not everything should necessarily be given the all-singing, all-dancing treatment. Bereavement: The Musical and Sex Ed: The Musical both get a big fat YES. Andy and the Prostitutes: The Musical? Doubtful. The Tibetan Book of the Dead: The Musical? No. Just... no.
7) Arthur's Seat is worth an afternoon away from the festival.
It's quick and easy to climb and the views are beautiful. And you hear some gems of bad geography if you eavesdrop on conversations at the top as people try to get their bearings. "Isn't Stonehenge near here? Oh no, wait - that's in Italy isn't it..." I have no idea if this person made it back to her house without getting lost, but I have my doubts.
8) The Fringe is addictive.
I came home sleep-deprived, never wanting to send an email again and seeing press releases and reviews and stars whenever I closed my eyes. But I'm going back next year, no question. I may have got Fringe fatigue, but I also caught Fringe fever - I'm officially a life-long fan. No matter how tired you get, the sheer amount of amazing, surprising, hilarious (whether intentionally or not) and heart-rending theatre that is on show here is unparalleled, from the most traditional of Shakespearean productions to the newest comedians on the circuit to an eleven minute performance in a prison cell. One year's taste of it is not enough. Thank you Edinburgh, you were great.
Tuesday, 28 August 2012
THEATRE REVIEW: Sex Ed: The Musical (Edinburgh Fringe)
Out Write Productions
25 August 2012
Sex Ed: The Musical bills itself as a show
which will tell you “Everything you never wanted to know about sex”. I think
that should be altered slightly – it’s everything you thought you never wanted to know about sex, until you witnessed it
all put into a series of very catchy songs and hilarious dances, at which point
you couldn’t imagine how you wouldn’t want to hear about it.
The
inaugural production of new theatre company Out Write Productions, this show
caused hysterical laughter to break out throughout the audience as the riotously
funny cast of seven take sixteen-year-old Gilbert and Gladys – along with the
audience – on a journey through all the ins and outs (yes, pun intended – I stole
it from the show) of sex, from contraception to technique and positions to sexual
orientation. It’s all very silly, of course: sperm is represented by sock
puppets, STIs are likened to cheese and phrases such as “vaginally tardy” are
thrown around the stage. But the show manages to tread the line between funny
and crude with skill, and ensure that serious issues are not trivialised whilst
also having a lot of fun. This extends to the set, props and scene changes: the
use of labels and signs indicates a home-made aspect to the show, but rather
than highlighting any sense of unprofessionalism, cardboard signs such as “If
We Had a Budget This Would Be A Scene Change” or “Focus On The Sign!” bring an
extra dash of charming humour to the show.
Bethan
Rigby and Isobel Wolff steal the show with their hilarious characterisation of
Barbara and Glenda respectively. Rigby’s sense of physical comedy is spot-on,
uproariously over-the-top at times but also touching in her own journey of
self-discovery. Wolff’s motherly naivety is a brilliant foil to Agatha’s (Emily
Snee) brashness and Hildegard’s (Lizzie Hartley) hopeless disorganisation and
never-ending pregnancies. Vicky Buxton as Bob also provides many laughs with
her forthright nature, and has one of the strongest voices in the musical
numbers. The songs are all performed with gusto, and credit should really be
given to all the cast for their ability to make it through numbers such as ‘Swallow My Pride’ with a straight face – there certainly wasn’t a single
one to be found in the audience. Moments of hilarity came one after the other: from
enforced audience participation on the part of two unsuspecting theatregoers
who were made to wear ‘W**ker’ labels, to the transformation of shy Gilbert
into a “kinky” lover, the show combined a wicked sense of humour and a warm heart
which was encapsulated perfectly by the closing number of ‘Go F**k Yourself’.
There
is a plethora of shows at the Fringe who have decided to stick ‘:The Musical’
onto the end of their title – enough to make me nervous about them all. Yet Sex Ed: The Musical certainly does not
merit this anxiety, as the hilarious script and the relentless energy of the
cast make for an hour-and-a-bit of unstoppable fun and hilarity.
Monday, 27 August 2012
THEATRE REVIEW: End to End (Edinburgh Fringe)
Gramophones
Theatre Company
25
August 2012
'End to
End' is one of the quirky gems waiting to be found amongst the mad mish-mash
(technical term) of the Free Fringe: it was recommended to me by two EFR
reviewers (their thoughts on the show can be found here http://edfringereview.com/r/UCi_Q25cQ6WR3W81XDx6yg
– shameless plug Number I-Don’t-Know-What), and word of mouth recommendations
had obviously been doing a great job for the Gramophone Theatre Company. The
back room of Bannermans was full to the brim for this performance, their last at the Fringe.
The show
presents Hannah Stone, Ria Ashcroft and Kristy Guest's adventure from one end
of the country to the other, as they travelled from Land's
End to John O'Groats in April 2012. For the most part getting by
on the kindness of strangers, their trip has been adapted into a touching and
charming piece of theatre about human connections and the way that chance
encounters, however fleeting, can make a deep impression. It is heart-warming,
funny and at times unexpectedly moving, and the cheery, sparky spirit of these
three women makes it impossible not to be swept away by their tales. Each
performer has a particular personality trait which they exploit to characterise
the narration whilst still managing to stick close to their true selves, making
the show honest: there is Hannah the tea-loving worrier, Ria the (almost)
fearless adventurer, and Kristy the wide-eyed innocent. The bond and love
between these friends is evident and is passed on to the audience through their
direct communication with us, sharing in their thoughts, feelings and desires.
The involvement of names and stories of the people they met lends a truth to the
show, and the three performers allow the audience in to share their personal
highs and lows without ever creating a feeling of discomfort. When Kristy speaks of her homesickness, I am sure it strikes a chord with many in the audience: by
simply reading a text message from her mother to evoke her feelings, the moment is touching without becoming sickly sweet or too obviously pulling at the
heartstrings with long, demonstrative speeches.
The set
is cluttered artistically with rucksacks, maps, signposts and
blackboards which are updated as the story continues, as the girls rack up
miles, costs and increasingly wackier modes of transport, from trains to
tractors, space hoppers to scooters, hitch-hiking to handgliders. The use of
photographs and film is a nice touch to bring truth to the tales and to add
interest to the show, which could have become a little flat with just a spoken
narrative. Similarly, the stylised enacting of aspects of the journey is
effective, particularly Kristy's representation of handgliding and Hannah's
comic episode of a difficult cycle ride. The mimes and models are
sometimes childlike, sometimes striking, such as the recreation of the
kite-flying at the conclusion of the journey. At times the show can verge on
being a little too cheesy: at one point, on being told to shut our eyes, the audience are wafted with cushions (I peeked…) to simulate the sensation of travelling
in the open air, which felt rather gimmicky. I can see the effect they were
aiming for, but for me this attempt to take us on the journey with them misses the mark slightly and is somewhat unnecessary.
However,
this is a very minor point: overall I was captivated by the charm of the show
and by the touching journey of the three women. The show ends with every
audience member being given a postcard addressed to the women, and a seed. I’m
still deciding what to do with mine: but I can’t help but be inspired by the
Gramophones’ experiences and their simple but touching rendering of their great
British adventure.
Friday, 24 August 2012
Edinburgh Fringe Day 18 - Just for Lolz
(I am aware this is very very late and we are way past Day 18 of the Fringe, for which I humbly apologise...)
Although I'm not trying to fish for sympathy (....OK, yes I am. I can sense I'm probably not getting much after waxing lyrical about the amazing-ness of the Fringe...), this month has not been an easy one. In between all the shows I've been writing about, I have of course been co-editing EFR - and to be honest it's been as stressful as it has been fun. So I figured I need a good laugh every now and then to make the crises fade away. And the Fringe isn't short on comedy shows, although not all of them necessarily manage to provide "a good laugh". So, once again, here's a snapshot of my comedic experiences at the Fringe so far (the ones I witnessed on stage. Not the ones which involve me trying to be cool in front of actors, or going up and down in a hotel lift trying to find a show, or carrying a rucksack packed with whole chickens back to the house. Although I will admit all these things are pretty laughable in their own way.)
Anyway. First up, the Edinburgh Revue - comfortably at home in their own city, right? Well, maybe if they'd been allowed a better venue. The Banshee Labyrinth is not exactly designed for sketch comedy, and quite honestly the background music they play in that place is terrifying, and didn't wash away my initial concern at the name of the building I'd decided to venture into. Yet the Revue don't deserve a scary venue - they really do seem like lovely people and had a lot of fun with their show, throwing themselves into the silliness. As always, some sketches worked better than others, but they started strong with a quick and hilarious history of Edinburgh; with a series of tableaux representing everything from war and rebellion to Harry Potter and Greyfriars Bobby, they had me giggling from the off - a good sign. Beyond this, Adam Todd was consistently strong and I particularly enjoyed his portrayal of Hamlet at the job centre. The gameshow in which a couple have to 'prove their love' also guarantees a lot of laughs throughout, and didn't weaken or lose focus as some other sketches sadly did. Clarisse Loughrey and Katia Kvinge particularly shone in a wide variety of roles, but the whole troupe were likeable purely on the basis of their own enjoyment and enthusiasm. The venue leaves very little space for movement and no option for blackouts between sketches, but in general the Revue worked with these limitations with success. Sometimes the odd awkward laugh-less moment punctuated the fun, and the show is rather rough around the edges. But overall, a relaxed and enjoyable show.
Moving from the back room of the blood-curdling Banshee Labyrinth (it wasn't that bad - I just like alliteration) to the Pleasance Courtyard, and a prize of £2500. Or should that be £25,000? Or maybe £2.5 million? With Mark Watson in charge of proceedings, who knows? Yes, the Chortle Student Comedy Awards 2012. Six pounds for a night of eight of the best up-and-coming comedians, plus Mark Watson - definitely not a bad deal! And I got plenty of laughs for my money. Footlights stalwart Pierre Novellie was flying the flag for Cambridge and got the evening off to a great start: I'd heard a lot of the material before, but that didn't stop me enjoying it immensely and giggling away at his parodying of bio-yoghurt adverts and affectionate mockery of the Isle of Man. Elsewhere Kwame Asante, Hari Sriskantha and David Elms all tickled my funny bone, and huge credit should go to Jonny Pelham for having the audience in full-on hysterics for a good few minutes simply with the words "She died". One act, Johnny F Monotone (aka Sebastian Bloomfield) quite honestly left me baffled rather than amused, but I'll accept that it simply wasn't my kind of humour, and it seemed that others around me enjoyed the set. In the end it was Kwame Asante who took the big prize and - putting aside my Cantabrigian loyalty - I was pretty satisfied by that result: he's clearly a brilliantly talented comedian and a seemed a gracious and humbled victor. Hopefully we'll be seeing much more of this lot in the years to come, and I'll be a bit smug to say I saw and rated them all before they hit the bigtime.
Another chance to spot the rising stars came at the Footlights Free Show: I've been twice now (the beauty of the Free Fringe) and if you've been paying attention you might have read what I wrote about it the other day.... My second visit repeated some of the same acts as my first, but also some new ones. Again, I'd seen a lot of Ahir Shah's set before in Cambridge so probably didn't appreciate it as much as the rest of the crowd, but it went down well. For me the show was made by headliner Nish Kumar, who definitely deserves the label of "rising star" which TimeOut gave to him. His quips and anecdotes lifted my spirits from the symptoms of Fringe fatigue, and sent me back out into the sunshine with a broad grin on my face. Frequent performers at the Footlights' show are the three-man sketch troupe of Rory & Tim (yes, three man...) who are also well worth a watch - details, in another shameless plug, are here: http://edfringereview.com/r/UCDeIuJAT4ScYD6pXDx6yg
I'd definitely recommend them if you've got a free hour; but of course, all my comments on this comedy may be totally different to your own thoughts. This was obvious from the reviews which emerged of this year's offering from the Oxford Revue, 'Prattle Royale'. Now, I really wanted to like this show. I really did, and I went in there putting all my latent distrust of Oxford aside (sorry, it's the Cambridge in me...) and prepared to have a good time. Yet the show really struggled to make me laugh - my review here justifies why: http://edfringereview.com/r/UBkdvLdcRSqP1ieWXDx6yg. However, another certain high profile reviewing body gave the show five stars, raving about its hilarity. Were we at the same show? Had they drastically rewritten the script? Was one of us blind or deaf? Or - most likely - doesn't this just show the subjectivity that is inherent to reviewing, and particularly reviewing comedy: a sense of humour is such a particularly personal trait that it's even harder to provide the opinion of the masses than usual. I don't think this devalues the opinions of our critics in any way: I still firmly believe that critics do a fantastic job in providing feedback for shows and audience and creating conversation and debate about cultural events and performances. Yet performers who are unhappy with a bad review should always remember that there is probably someone in the audience who totally disagreed and was loving it. It just happens this wasn't the person whose job is it to publicly publish their opinion.
As a final note for today, I have a confession to make: I've become an Austentatious-aholic. After my fourth visit to the show, I haven't yet tired of it - the funniest thing I've seen here, without a doubt.
Although I'm not trying to fish for sympathy (....OK, yes I am. I can sense I'm probably not getting much after waxing lyrical about the amazing-ness of the Fringe...), this month has not been an easy one. In between all the shows I've been writing about, I have of course been co-editing EFR - and to be honest it's been as stressful as it has been fun. So I figured I need a good laugh every now and then to make the crises fade away. And the Fringe isn't short on comedy shows, although not all of them necessarily manage to provide "a good laugh". So, once again, here's a snapshot of my comedic experiences at the Fringe so far (the ones I witnessed on stage. Not the ones which involve me trying to be cool in front of actors, or going up and down in a hotel lift trying to find a show, or carrying a rucksack packed with whole chickens back to the house. Although I will admit all these things are pretty laughable in their own way.)
Anyway. First up, the Edinburgh Revue - comfortably at home in their own city, right? Well, maybe if they'd been allowed a better venue. The Banshee Labyrinth is not exactly designed for sketch comedy, and quite honestly the background music they play in that place is terrifying, and didn't wash away my initial concern at the name of the building I'd decided to venture into. Yet the Revue don't deserve a scary venue - they really do seem like lovely people and had a lot of fun with their show, throwing themselves into the silliness. As always, some sketches worked better than others, but they started strong with a quick and hilarious history of Edinburgh; with a series of tableaux representing everything from war and rebellion to Harry Potter and Greyfriars Bobby, they had me giggling from the off - a good sign. Beyond this, Adam Todd was consistently strong and I particularly enjoyed his portrayal of Hamlet at the job centre. The gameshow in which a couple have to 'prove their love' also guarantees a lot of laughs throughout, and didn't weaken or lose focus as some other sketches sadly did. Clarisse Loughrey and Katia Kvinge particularly shone in a wide variety of roles, but the whole troupe were likeable purely on the basis of their own enjoyment and enthusiasm. The venue leaves very little space for movement and no option for blackouts between sketches, but in general the Revue worked with these limitations with success. Sometimes the odd awkward laugh-less moment punctuated the fun, and the show is rather rough around the edges. But overall, a relaxed and enjoyable show.
Moving from the back room of the blood-curdling Banshee Labyrinth (it wasn't that bad - I just like alliteration) to the Pleasance Courtyard, and a prize of £2500. Or should that be £25,000? Or maybe £2.5 million? With Mark Watson in charge of proceedings, who knows? Yes, the Chortle Student Comedy Awards 2012. Six pounds for a night of eight of the best up-and-coming comedians, plus Mark Watson - definitely not a bad deal! And I got plenty of laughs for my money. Footlights stalwart Pierre Novellie was flying the flag for Cambridge and got the evening off to a great start: I'd heard a lot of the material before, but that didn't stop me enjoying it immensely and giggling away at his parodying of bio-yoghurt adverts and affectionate mockery of the Isle of Man. Elsewhere Kwame Asante, Hari Sriskantha and David Elms all tickled my funny bone, and huge credit should go to Jonny Pelham for having the audience in full-on hysterics for a good few minutes simply with the words "She died". One act, Johnny F Monotone (aka Sebastian Bloomfield) quite honestly left me baffled rather than amused, but I'll accept that it simply wasn't my kind of humour, and it seemed that others around me enjoyed the set. In the end it was Kwame Asante who took the big prize and - putting aside my Cantabrigian loyalty - I was pretty satisfied by that result: he's clearly a brilliantly talented comedian and a seemed a gracious and humbled victor. Hopefully we'll be seeing much more of this lot in the years to come, and I'll be a bit smug to say I saw and rated them all before they hit the bigtime.
Another chance to spot the rising stars came at the Footlights Free Show: I've been twice now (the beauty of the Free Fringe) and if you've been paying attention you might have read what I wrote about it the other day.... My second visit repeated some of the same acts as my first, but also some new ones. Again, I'd seen a lot of Ahir Shah's set before in Cambridge so probably didn't appreciate it as much as the rest of the crowd, but it went down well. For me the show was made by headliner Nish Kumar, who definitely deserves the label of "rising star" which TimeOut gave to him. His quips and anecdotes lifted my spirits from the symptoms of Fringe fatigue, and sent me back out into the sunshine with a broad grin on my face. Frequent performers at the Footlights' show are the three-man sketch troupe of Rory & Tim (yes, three man...) who are also well worth a watch - details, in another shameless plug, are here: http://edfringereview.com/r/UCDeIuJAT4ScYD6pXDx6yg
I'd definitely recommend them if you've got a free hour; but of course, all my comments on this comedy may be totally different to your own thoughts. This was obvious from the reviews which emerged of this year's offering from the Oxford Revue, 'Prattle Royale'. Now, I really wanted to like this show. I really did, and I went in there putting all my latent distrust of Oxford aside (sorry, it's the Cambridge in me...) and prepared to have a good time. Yet the show really struggled to make me laugh - my review here justifies why: http://edfringereview.com/r/UBkdvLdcRSqP1ieWXDx6yg. However, another certain high profile reviewing body gave the show five stars, raving about its hilarity. Were we at the same show? Had they drastically rewritten the script? Was one of us blind or deaf? Or - most likely - doesn't this just show the subjectivity that is inherent to reviewing, and particularly reviewing comedy: a sense of humour is such a particularly personal trait that it's even harder to provide the opinion of the masses than usual. I don't think this devalues the opinions of our critics in any way: I still firmly believe that critics do a fantastic job in providing feedback for shows and audience and creating conversation and debate about cultural events and performances. Yet performers who are unhappy with a bad review should always remember that there is probably someone in the audience who totally disagreed and was loving it. It just happens this wasn't the person whose job is it to publicly publish their opinion.
As a final note for today, I have a confession to make: I've become an Austentatious-aholic. After my fourth visit to the show, I haven't yet tired of it - the funniest thing I've seen here, without a doubt.
Monday, 13 August 2012
Edinburgh Fringe Day 12 - Variety is the spice of the Fringe
There are far far far too many shows on at the Fringe to
talk in detail about everything I’ve seen – Austentatious
became an exception, because…well, read the review and you’ll understand – so
this is a quick-march-review-spectacular through my last few days of
theatregoing. I have truly experienced the variety of the Fringe recently, from
puppets to Footlights, from drag queens and burlesque to Mozart, from packed-out
theatres to the back room of a tiny pub.
I’ll start with the burlesque. It was really
an accident that I ended up at Briefs,
a troupe of male burlesque performers from Australia
At the other end of the spectrum, one lunchtime
I made my way down to The White Horse on Cannongate to see Dating George Orwell, a one-woman performance playing as part of
the Free Fringe. This show really epitomised the charm and hidden delights of
the Free Fringe; ushered through the tiny pub into a small, cosy back room –
more English country pub than theatre venue – I was at first slightly perturbed
by the intimacy of the venue – was this just going to be horrendously awkward?
In fact, I very much enjoyed the show that followed. Kelly Jones (as lonely
bookworm and birthday girl Pauline Duffy) is in turn adorable, pitiable, funny
and perplexing as she relates her coming-of-age years and the combination of
her love of literature with her sexual awakening. A strange concept perhaps,
but utterly and surprisingly entertaining.
Elsewhere: the Footlights’ daily stand-up show
is a cheap (in fact, free if you’re stingy and don’t donate anything at the
end…) alternative to their tour show. In fact, having seen these performers on
many occasions, I feel that the strength of this year’s Footlights lies in
stand-up rather than sketches, so here is a great opportunity to see some of
their best alongside some guests. My favourite new discovery from this show was
the exquisitely rib-tickling musical comedy of Emerald Paston who closed the
show and sent me on my way giggling appreciatively. For something more
traditional, a modernised version of Mozart’s The Impresario finished yesterday (sorry, I meant to write this up
sooner…) at Paradise in Augustine’s but was
well worth a watch: even if you’re not into opera, you can’t help but be
impressed by this über-talented cast. If you didn’t go, you missed out.
However my biggest MUST-SEE (capitalised
because I can’t emphasise enough how much you should see it) is now The Girl With No Heart at Bedlam
Theatre. I can’t thank the programmers of Bedlam enough this year, as their
whole schedule for the festival is incredible, but this show in particular
really is sensationally beautiful. I can’t sum it up in a couple of lines, so
I’ll leave that review for another time…
Sunday, 12 August 2012
THEATRE REVIEW: Austentatious (Edinburgh Fringe)
The Milk Monitors
Edinburgh Fringe - Laughing Horse @ The Counting House
10th August 2012
If someone had wanted to devise a
show especially to appeal to my co-editor and me, they really couldn't have hit
the nail on the head any harder and more precisely than the cast of
'Austentatious' did. We were hooked from the moment we saw those magic words in
the Fringe guide - no, not 'Free Non-ticketed', although that did help... - 'An
Improvised Jane Austen Novel'. Amazing.
This ensemble of six did not disappoint. It was silly,
implausible, littered with the odd error and corpsing incident, but utterly
delightful and unfailingly giggle-inducing. The title of each show is supplied
via audience suggestion - charmingly written on slips of paper designed as
classic Penguin book covers - and today we were treated to the
mysteriously-titled 'Mr Bingley Pulls It Off'. Pulls what off, you may ask?
Well, in the context of the preposterous plot, it turned out to be a glove, off
the hand of Miss Clarissa Kopparberg (yes, as in the cider...) But beyond that,
Mr Bingley (Graham Dickson) and his fellow Austenites also pulled off a comic
performance with aplomb and panache that comprised admirable elements of
improv, farce, pantomime and parody. Drawing on stock Austen characters - the
pretty but poor girl, the condescending richer friend, the well-meaning but
financially insecure young hero... - the cast of 'Austentatious' revel in
cliché and plunge themselves into stereotypes without fear: hilarity
ensues.
Being improv, and - dare I say it? - being inspired by
Austen, the plot has little logical sense or intention of meaning or message,
but that simply makes it all the funnier. Cariad Lloyd and Amy Cooke-Hodgson
were a brilliant double act who led each other into fresh improvised ideas and
supported each other through their continuation - the singing of their names
being a prime example of a ridiculous yet hilarious motif that ensured constant
laughter throughout a scene. Joseph Morpurgo and Andrew Murray did a sterling
job of remaining straight-faced in the face of ludicrous evolutions of
conversation, sneakily evil challenges set by fellow cast members, and the
laughter which erupted from the full and enthusiastic audience. Yet it was when
the cast let the mask slip a little that the production truly showed its heart
and soul. Mistakes were almost inevitable in an improvised piece, and were at
times surprisingly basic - "Lord Bingley!" exclaimed Mr Bingley in
one lapse of concentration. Yet rather than detracting from the professionalism
of the piece, these instances served to keep the audience on side as they
enjoyed both quick-thinking improv and the holes that the cast dug themselves.
Acknowledging these errors on stage and dealing with them humorously is a skill
in itself, and one that the cast proved themselves to be highly adept at.
Furthermore, it was a joy to see them standing at the sides of the stage and
laughing at their colleagues' scenes, taking real enjoyment in each other's craft.
There seems little point in recounting the details of this
particular story as it will only ever be appreciated by those who were there on
the day, but suffice to say the tale of vintage weapons, financial concerns and
square dancing was in the end brought to a reasonably neat end. My overall
impression at the end of this amazingly free show (I would have happily paid to
see this!) was a great sense of fun and enjoyment which spread from the actors
to the audience to the harpist (Tamsin Dearnley) to the one-man tech team. I was
promised "silliness and
sophistication" and I got a generous helping of both, with a barrelful of
laughs thrown in for good measure.
Saturday, 4 August 2012
Edinburgh Fringe Day 3 - Attraction & Animosity, Editor's Guilt, and some Improv.
After many nervous and increasingly stressful hours of waiting for deliverymen...We have EFR jumpers! They are bright bright red, shamelessly promotional things of beauty. But they also have a strange, Marmite effect - people are either drawn to you as if you're some kind of big scarlet magnet, or run away in deadly fear. Certainly there are many performers desperate for extra publicity and for reviews, and I love being out on the Royal Mile and chatting to people about their shows - I've heard that last year a couple of our reviewers literally got chased down the Mile by someone wanting a review written of their show. There's such a buzz here and it's brilliant seeing the amount of hard work and passion that goes into an extraordinary variety of shows. But I've heard other tales from reviewers that crowds part in front of them, as if some weird Moses-like aura is attached to the jumpers. I certainly had my own strange experience when I reviewed my first show yesterday, Rosa Robson and Matilda Wnek's Beard. Entering the Baillie Room at Assembly, the entire room - audience and the show's tech team - turned and stared. Just stared, without any subtlety or embarrassment. Effortlessly grabbing the attention of an entire room of people purely by walking in is maybe every girl's secret dream, but this wasn't quite how I'd imagined it. It was disconcerting, as if they were all thinking - "ARGH. REVIEWER. JUDGEMENT. EVIL EVIL DREAM-DESTROYING CRITIC" (for the record, I didn't destroy any dreams - the girls gave a great show, and you can read my review here! http://edfringereview.com/r/UBpVkrfMQAamNUa9XDx6yg Shameless plug no.2). It reinforced what a strange position being a theatre critic is sometimes - involved in the theatre scene but not part of the gang, as it were. Apparently a strange beast, to be feared and not quite to be trusted... So walking around the Fringe with this big label of 'REVIEWER' stuck to me is going to be interesting.
Next, a small word of warning about the Free Fringe. It can be wacky and surprising and exhilarating and confusing and disappointing - and it can apparently be highly traumatic. One reviewer returned to the house so dumbstruck from such an intensely disturbing one-man show last night that I felt immense editorial guilt for unknowingly putting her through such an experience. So if you're looking for something different and unusual at the Fringe, there's plenty of choice. Just make sure it won't mess up your mental health.
However if you're looking to laugh yourself silly, go and see The Improverts! Yes, you! Go! See them! They are Bedlam Theatre's resident improv troupe from Edinburgh University and provided the best hour of improv I've seen. The cast of 5 were so slick, so tight, so quick and so, so funny: from conversing in sentences beginning with consecutive letters of the alphabet to a guessing game involving prosthetic legs smuggled inside bananas from Uruguay, the (surprising) all-male group dealt with everything thrown at them by the game formats and by the audience (including some drunk hecklers - this was a post-midnight show after all). Of course there were elements which didn't quite work, as is the tendency of improv, but in this case the hilarity far outdid the flop moments. David Elms particularly stood out for his accents, quick-thinking, subtlety and wittiness, but he was the leader of a strong ensemble performance. I can't recommend them enough - go go go before they sell out!!
And now if you'll excuse me, the sun is shining and I'm off to meet a star of Skins and review his play. Laters.
Thursday, 2 August 2012
Edinburgh Fringe Day 1 - Scottish Accents, Getting Lost, The Royal Mile, and 'I Am, I Am'
So, after a train journey of immense excitement and rising panic, I've arrived at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe! I'm a Fringe virgin so these next few posts are as much about reviewing my Fringe experience - and shamelessly promoting the website I'm working for, edfringereview.com (plug no. 1) - as reviewing the shows I see here.
The first evening brought immediate problems. Now, I have a very good friend who is Scottish. I've been to Scotland before. I figured I could handle the accent. Oh no. A phone call from a Tesco delivery man ranked in difficulty levels approximately equally with one of my finals. Confusion ensued. Luckily, confusion was solved mainly through me pretending to understand what he was saying, adding the odd "Yes" and "Sure" into the conversation and then guessing afterwards what we'd actually been talking about. This is not meant disrespectfully in any way - I'm 100% sure it was my own incompetence - but it was hardly an encouraging start to a month in Scotland.
Meanwhile, it turns out one day trip to Edinburgh at the age of 8 is definitely not enough to enable me to know my way around. My first trip into the city centre the following day therefore brought another milestone: the first time I got lost in Edinburgh. I still don't know where The Voodoo Rooms are, but I had "fun" negotiating roadworks and dead-ends and alleys that lead nowhere... (Seriously, where ARE they?! If anyone knows, please let me know!) Another good start. The 'magic' of the Fringe had so far eluded me; up to this point I'd failed to understand the natives, failed to find one venue, found another whose entire system had crashed five minutes into the festival, and generally got pretty hot and bothered and unprofessional-looking.
But then... then I finally emerged onto the Royal Mile. And Toto, we were not in Kansas any more. We were in bizarre, absurd, heavenly theatre land. All niggling problems aside, I'm in love with the Fringe already. A magician swallowing a balloon, a girl group singing Lady Gaga, a couple of drag queens tottering past in stacked high heels, a pair of Victorian gentlemen giving me a flyer... even some free sweets! Not to mention the more traditional shows like As You Like It or Bugsy Malone. This is my kind of thing - I'm already dreading the day I have to leave.
And so my Fringe adventure kicked off for real. After an afternoon of flyer-collecting and e-mailing (So. Many. Emails.), the night brought around my first taste of a show. I was familiar with the comedy of I Am, I Am stars Lowell Belfield and Harry Michell from their work with the Cambridge Footlights, but this was my first taste of their musical comedy. The two performers worked perfectly as a duo, harmonious in both their singing and their not-at-all staged (ahem) conversation between numbers. Playing on awkward social situations with girls and traumatic school experiences is perhaps not an original or difficult line of comedy, but these guys brought their own fresh sense of fun, wit, charm and occasional grossness to the material. The performance wasn't without its faults - you could tell this was a preview - but the audience lapped it up and even the unsuccessful moments were dealt with in a funny and unembarrassed way. Lowell melted the audience's hearts by milking his "adorable" qualities, but it was Harry Michell who gave me my own personal serenade - however "platonically" it was intended. Ah well, I still felt special. The song of the night for me however was their ditty based around puns on London Tube stops, which had the whole audience in fits of giggles.
So, the improv was sharp, the patter with the audience was charming, the atmosphere was fun: and we forgave them for all the small mistakes. The boys were unaware they were carrying the pressure of setting the standard for me as far as Fringe productions go - but if I'm going on this show, I'm going to have a great Fringe!
And so I go back to the emails....
The first evening brought immediate problems. Now, I have a very good friend who is Scottish. I've been to Scotland before. I figured I could handle the accent. Oh no. A phone call from a Tesco delivery man ranked in difficulty levels approximately equally with one of my finals. Confusion ensued. Luckily, confusion was solved mainly through me pretending to understand what he was saying, adding the odd "Yes" and "Sure" into the conversation and then guessing afterwards what we'd actually been talking about. This is not meant disrespectfully in any way - I'm 100% sure it was my own incompetence - but it was hardly an encouraging start to a month in Scotland.
Meanwhile, it turns out one day trip to Edinburgh at the age of 8 is definitely not enough to enable me to know my way around. My first trip into the city centre the following day therefore brought another milestone: the first time I got lost in Edinburgh. I still don't know where The Voodoo Rooms are, but I had "fun" negotiating roadworks and dead-ends and alleys that lead nowhere... (Seriously, where ARE they?! If anyone knows, please let me know!) Another good start. The 'magic' of the Fringe had so far eluded me; up to this point I'd failed to understand the natives, failed to find one venue, found another whose entire system had crashed five minutes into the festival, and generally got pretty hot and bothered and unprofessional-looking.
But then... then I finally emerged onto the Royal Mile. And Toto, we were not in Kansas any more. We were in bizarre, absurd, heavenly theatre land. All niggling problems aside, I'm in love with the Fringe already. A magician swallowing a balloon, a girl group singing Lady Gaga, a couple of drag queens tottering past in stacked high heels, a pair of Victorian gentlemen giving me a flyer... even some free sweets! Not to mention the more traditional shows like As You Like It or Bugsy Malone. This is my kind of thing - I'm already dreading the day I have to leave.
And so my Fringe adventure kicked off for real. After an afternoon of flyer-collecting and e-mailing (So. Many. Emails.), the night brought around my first taste of a show. I was familiar with the comedy of I Am, I Am stars Lowell Belfield and Harry Michell from their work with the Cambridge Footlights, but this was my first taste of their musical comedy. The two performers worked perfectly as a duo, harmonious in both their singing and their not-at-all staged (ahem) conversation between numbers. Playing on awkward social situations with girls and traumatic school experiences is perhaps not an original or difficult line of comedy, but these guys brought their own fresh sense of fun, wit, charm and occasional grossness to the material. The performance wasn't without its faults - you could tell this was a preview - but the audience lapped it up and even the unsuccessful moments were dealt with in a funny and unembarrassed way. Lowell melted the audience's hearts by milking his "adorable" qualities, but it was Harry Michell who gave me my own personal serenade - however "platonically" it was intended. Ah well, I still felt special. The song of the night for me however was their ditty based around puns on London Tube stops, which had the whole audience in fits of giggles.
So, the improv was sharp, the patter with the audience was charming, the atmosphere was fun: and we forgave them for all the small mistakes. The boys were unaware they were carrying the pressure of setting the standard for me as far as Fringe productions go - but if I'm going on this show, I'm going to have a great Fringe!
And so I go back to the emails....
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