Friday, September 15, 2017

One month on from our closing night and it feels like about a hundred years. 

I think I saw at least one show most days, with many thanks to the Wee Review and some smaller portion of my own money! On favourite weekend days, I'd see four or five. So no wonder time bends and enters a parallel track where a good day is so full to bursting with good and interesting and beautiful thoughts that it could be a month in real time.

I haven't really written anything of my show itself. Beyond feverishly sharing any old (most old) reviews of it. Which isn't anything to do with how little or how much I loved it (much) and all to do with how many words I was pouring into reviewing. 

But I did love it. 

I was certainly spoilt with an abundance of marvellous shows. I'm most grateful to Mark Gorman for pointing me towards Border Tales at Summerhall. I'm most grateful to Mr Peacock for having One Step Before The Fall on his hitlist. Without that, I wouldn't have seen the no doubt excruciating howl of pain which was The Narrator but I also wouldn't have seen Fagin's Twist which was apparently the best (Fringe?) show that Miriam had ever seen and was certainly brilliant and inventive and executed with perfect energy and panache. I did like Last Resort, the sort of parody of Guantanamo Bay by 2Magpies Theatre. I did like The Sky Is Safe by Dogstar. A lot. I loved (can't spell them) Oetroerund Goed's LI£S. And The Flying Lovers were stunning.

I mainly regret not being organised enough to get tickets for the kids to see Circa's Humans but someone darkly said it was "quite an adult show" so maybe it's for the best. And it meant that instead I lurked fuming inside outside the EICC for too long waiting for child incompetence to join me in the queue for Cirkopolis. Which proved to be more or less entirely worth it for the visual spectacle (and the tricks) though when the house stunk of teenage perfume Charlie for the ensuing two days, I did sometimes briefly wonder if it really had.

I veer between thinking my early shows were my favourites but then I worry that this is only a reflection of 'hooray for the Fringe being back'. The late ones linger longer in my memory (crazy Monkey See Monkey Do, wonderful kind Jamie O, self indulgent Jarvis Cocker, THE NARRATOR). 

But I think the one that I loved most for audacity and chutzpah and novelty and message and fun was the (surely) wonderful Ellie Dubois' No Show. Perfectly formed and perfectly Fringe. It was wonderful.

Monday, August 28, 2017

A girl stands dressed in a black dress and black brogues staring sternly at the audience. The stage is dark. The only light is on her. Suddenly she smiles.

She counts the number of pieces of brick on the stage. There is a stack of bricks and some pieces to her right. She counts the number of latecomers to the show (one). She counts the number of ladies in the audience and gives up after ten (there are many more). She counts the number of French people in the audience and miraculously concludes that there is only one - her.

She picks up two pieces of brick and holds them with her arms stretched out, one in each hand. She counts and tells the audience to tell her when to stop. Someone compassionate (I wonder if it's the director who showed us in) tells her to stop when she gets to four. She puts the bricks down.

She dances a bit. It's not tap but that's the closest description that I know. She sort of stamps her feet in a variety of compelling rhythms. She takes a mallet and she smashes some of the bricks.

She counts a variety of other things including the number of her unborn children (three). She does this in both English and French. (Maybe she somehow knows she is the only French person in the room.) She says the names of my unborn children are unknown even by God. She says the names of various other things are unknown even by God. She says this in both English and French.

She dances a bit. She smashes some more bricks. She screams into a nearby microphone. She sweeps the bricks into a large box attached to one side of the stage. The stage is square and raised and on two sides of it (the audience sides as it's diagonally placed) are many large boxes jutting out from the stage. An extension of it. One contains gravel. One seems to contain rubble. (And then more rubble when she puts the bricks into it.)

We're half an hour in now. This is all accompanied by live music that is sometimes guitar, drums, electronic or all of the above. And it's beautifully lit.

She climbs into one of the large boxes which is mostly filled with water. She lies in the water and sings (beautifully, I might add) into another conveniently placed microphone. Then she clambers out and gets into another box that seems to contain sand and wriggles around so it covers her.

Then she starts lifting up pieces of wood on the stage and re-organising them. Sh stacks a bunch of planks so they conceal one of two stacks of lights placed to the left (her left) of the stage. She lifts some more boards and they are mirrored on the reverse and she stacks them, mirrors towards the audience.

She dances a bit more.

The lights go out.

Wednesday, August 23, 2017

Blowing everything I've seen so far out of the water for sheer audacious nuts-ness and brilliance is Seagulls. I loved this show so much, I wished it was mine. The venue is far and away the hero but clearly that was entirely down to the brilliant imagination of whomsoever is behind it. I would urge you to rush and see it but I think it's sold out. Do try, by whatever means you can find, to lay your hands on a ticket if you don't have one already. 

This guy warms your heart amidst glorious ridiculousness. My review is yet to be published for those that hang on my valuable words (?!). 

One Step BeforeThe Fall was completely and utterly glorious, to the point where I ran out of this show and bought a ticket for their companion show, The Narrator. Cari, if you're reading this and can possibly cheat your way out of work for 5pm on Thursday - their very last show - go go go. It's stunning. 

I thought this was a bit daft but it's very well done and no doubt very meaningful so who's to argue with that?

Sunday, August 20, 2017

Fighting for favourite show so far this #edfringe are:

Elle Dubois' No Show at Summerhall.

The beautiful Jess and Joe Forever at the Traverse.

Old Stock, A Refugee Love Story at the Canada Hub of Sumemrhall is boisterous and beautifully music-ed and delightful.

There's this crazy thing which is sold out unless you're lucky on the night and get an unclaimed comp.

And then there's The Flying Lovers of Vitebsk.

Tough competition.

Friday, August 11, 2017

The more I think about this, the more I loved it.
I'm featured in an instagram ad! Does that mean I've made it as a reviewer?! 
In the rest of life (not that the rest of life matters all that much at this precise moment in time), I've been seeing some stuff. And a lot of it has been good.

How To Act is interesting.

The Sky Is Safe is excellent.

And Seance is spooky as they come.
Yeah, so Susan didn't spoil me so much. But she liked the actors and that is The Most Important thing.

Thursday, August 10, 2017

Now you're spoiling me.

Wednesday, August 09, 2017

That'll do, pig. That'll do.