Thursday, August 29, 2019

I was very anxious that I'd been careless enough to see an uneven number of shows but thank goodness, I seem to have made it to a nice round number which is 50.

Thanks to this peculiar thing (I didn't feel quite so warmly about it as Mark Fisher.) The sweet but ultimately (heaven forfend) slightly pointless Like Animals. And then this magnificence. For it was. 

I've been sleeping a bit more this week. It's nice. 

Sunday, August 25, 2019

Hey beloved blog.

Just submitted my forty-first review this Fringe. So that's a bit of a relief. 

If you have a spare day and can see one thing - hmmm - this maybe. 

This was superb, particularly because of the appearance of Leith Academy beat boxing on stage with the Beatbox Academy at the performance we saw, but is probably sold out. 

And then this was remarkable.

I expect to spend an afternoon crying at two things I've been saving for my final day. Wish me luck. 

Saturday, August 10, 2019

Nineteen shows in. (Though only fifteen are reviewed. And Hot Dub Time Machine doesn't really count as a show.) I'm starting to get word blindness.

One I didn't review was this though I might have said something like that if I did.

I'm formed a fine little habit these past couple of days that sees me stopping at Nile Valley for a felafel wrap at lunchtime to keep my strength up.

Then I come to Fringe Central to write up whatever I've just seen.

(Two suffragettes just passed me.)

I have four shows today and four tomorrow.

Yesterday contained this great pleasure.

I love the Fringe.

Thursday, August 08, 2019

In case you're really just bursting to read all the reviews I don't specifically post, you can find all of them here

I was smugly pleased to see that the Traverse have been forced to sell £12 tickets for Trying It On. The more I think about it, the less I like it!

Saturday, August 03, 2019

I cried fitfully through most of this. (Which is a sign of excellence for the uninitiated.)

Though I had come from something terrible.

But I think it would stand on its own two lively and fearless feet anyway. 
If you have a spare hour at teatime, 4 Brown Girls Who Write and their Poetry Phamily was spiky, endearing and brilliant. (Though maybe not one for BS. I think he would tut and suck his teeth. Then again, maybe I misjudge.) I was even compelled to buy their book.

You have two more chances to see.

Thursday, August 01, 2019

Poor blog. One post a month isn't much to write home about.

My excuse is a brief holiday, a frantic attempt to write a script for next year's performing if the committee will have it, and now it'll only get worse as the Fringe begun.

I'm reviewing many many many shows in the next few days (gulp) but didn't get this pick on my review list. So I wasted precious editing time by darting along to see it last night for slightly cheaper than it'll be in real Fringe life as it's preview time. 

Here's a sneak peak. But it was gorgeous. Funny. Feisty. Acrobatic. Inventive. And it made me cry which, as you'll know by now, is really my main criteria for show enjoyment.

Raven. Assembly Roxy. 5:50pm until approx 24 (or 25?) August. Go see. 

Friday, July 05, 2019

Some varyingly lovely films in the Edinburgh International Film Festival.

Hamada was a lovely insight into a bunch of young people living in a refugee camp in the formerly Spanish owned portion of Morocco. It's beautifully shot, potentially suffers from the lack of a proper narrative thread as many documentaries do but was funny and charming and surprising. (I expected unrelenting misery and got pranky entertainment.) And it was most remarkable as the director shot it all, knowing not a word of their language (unless they spoke Spanish), and could only edit the footage once he'd had it all translated.

A Girl From Mogadishu certainly wasn't the best film I've ever seen. It veered oddly between being a recreation of an actual story that sometimes strayed into sort of documentary that was a little sliver too sentimental in my humble opinion. And yet Ifrah Ahmed's story is incredible and then, to my ridiculously overwhelmed astonishment, Ifrah herself popped up at the end of the film along with the director and they chatted away about life, her story and her excellent Foundation.

And Scheme Birds was just super duper tickety boo. And it was sort of piercing. That one, I would certainly catch if you can.