Category: ff2012

[2012027] Dave Thornton – The Some Of All The Parts [FringeTIX]

Dave Thornton @ Rhino Room – Downstairs

7:45pm, Wed 22 Feb 2012

I think Dave Thornton’s a pretty safe bet – a comfortable style, pleasant jokes. I’ve seen him during Fringe-time, I’ve seen him at the Rhino Room between Fringes… he’s solid. Dependable.

So when he opens with a gag about playing “Penis or Finger” with your bed-partner, I was a little put-off – it felt like a cheap joke, too low-brow… not what I was expecting at all.

The central thread of his show – that he was asked to deliver a motivational speech to a group of twelve-year-old school kids, and was struggling to collate suitable material – is an intriguing one… but the vignettes that Thornton spins off from this thread are only loosely connected. They’re still interesting stories, of course – hearing about his experience sitting in on a sex-ed class delivered by his sixty-two-year-old mum is a treat, even though that tale wraps up abruptly. His divergence into topics of religion quietens the audience – a mixed blessing, as it turned out.

Normally, a quiet comedy crowd would spell death to a comedian – but Thornton was host this evening to a chatty group at the back of the room, and the rowdy Pedro and Monique in the front row. He attempted to engage them all in an attempt to quieten them down, but that only seemed to grant them license to continue their own conversations unabated. Pedro and Monique, in particular, seemed to take great delight in discussing – amongst themselves – every second punchline in depth.

Come on… they were in the front row.

Thornton seemed off his game; maybe it was the noisy elements in the crowd, maybe it was the shaky material. His closing bit – which should have been a touching story regarding the uplifting efforts of his brother, featuring a cute Lego Transformer – fell flat, with a sense of “huh? that’s the end?” falling over the crowd. Thornton may still have a likeable style, and he may still be adept at quick comebacks, but this was – without a doubt – the flattest set I’ve seen him perform.

[2012026] The Lonely Man [FringeTIX]

Jamie Jewell @ La Bohème

6:00pm, Wed 22 Feb 2012

As we do the ticketing dance upon entry to La Bohème, we’re asked to pick a shape – triangle or square – and drop it into a collection box. I went with triangle – it looked like a sad face, and I was feeling a bit down. I asked for the meaning of the selection; “it affects the outcome of the show,” I was told.

I take a seat at a cocktail seat at the back of the room and have a nice little chat with Anne whilst eying the elaborate set: there’s shelves aplenty, all adorned with trinkets and boxes and decorations that evoke a sense of quiet sadness, of melancholy. I spot two boxes sporting the triangle and square that we’d been offered earlier; that’s the climax of the show, I thought, hidden in that box.

With the front door closed, Carol Young (from Music to Watch Boys By) trots out and sits at the piano. She starts playing, and then Jamie Jewell is stumbling in from outside, and while his opening number of The Show Must Go On is solid, it’s most definitely affected by his movement through the crowd – it’s not the cleanest rendition I’ve ever heard. He’s straight into the second song – another cabaret familiar – and I’m starting to think “great – a bunch of classics, dressed up with a complex set.”

But then Jewell hits his stride with Over the Rainbow – it’s fabulous, and so is the remainder of his songs. But it’s the theatrical component of the show that generates a real sense of melancholy; early on, he wanders through the crowd plucking bulldog clips from under tables, using them as cufflinks. He rearranges boxes in their shelves, finds parts of his teddy bear; he reassembles the bear with the help of a bit of spittle and dances lovingly with it – it feels like he’s lamenting the loss of love.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at La Bohème’s front door: “Who is it?” he calls, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “Opportunity,” comes the answer. He opens the door a crack, and a hand pokes through with one of the triangles; he returns to the set, takes the triangle box off the shelf, and opens it… it contains a frowning wooden mask. Slowly he undresses; when he drops his trousers to reveal his naked arse, a women on the table next to me shrieks in disbelief… then, as Jewell symbolises his suicide to end the show, the same woman whistles way too loud for the tiny venue.

The Lonely Man is most definitely not a feel-good show, but it is a quality piece of cabaret – albeit drenched in melancholy. After a shaky start, Jewell puts in a great performance, and Carol Young’s piano is more than capable accompaniment. And I must admit to being curious with regards to the “square” ending…

[2012025] Fleeto [FringeTIX]

Tumult in the Clouds @ Holden Street Theatres – The Studio

2:00pm, Wed 22 Feb 2012

The opening lines of Fleeto mention “Wee Andy” about half-a-dozen times; even with ears struggling to adapt to the thick Glaswegian accent, it’s still plain that young Mackie is angry and scared that his friend has fallen to a knife attack – a Glasgow Smile – and is struggling to deal with the ramifications of the attack. But the repeated use of “Wee Andy” initially has me thinking I’m in the wrong performance, that the Tumult cast have lead with the wrong piece… but as soon as the Mackie meets Kenzie, who lets out a roar of a rallying war cry – “Fleeeeetooooo!” – my doubts are cast aside.

Fleeto tracks the frantic unravelling of Mackie’s life in the hours after the attack on Wee Andy. Swept up in a hastily organised street gang of under the vicious Kenzie’s leadership, the group go looking for blood; Kenzie, keen to get another soldier in his battalion, presses a knife into Mackie’s hand and orchestrates the attack on a pair of innocents. One is severely beaten; the other unwittingly slain by Mackie’s hand.

Mackie, horrified by what he’s done, goes on the run – hiding in areas more derelict than his own downtrodden welfare estate. At the same time, we’re witness to the grief of his victim’s mother; the Police Officer, who’d been a constant source of narration and explanation throughout the early stages of the performance, comes into his own as he breaks the news to her, guiding her through the identification process. Mackie and Kenzie violently reunite, and then there’s an intense scene between Mackie and his victim’s mother, who remained unaware of who she was talking to; she sees Mackie as a victim himself. The denouement, using the symbolic MacGuffin of the victim’s journal, leaves us feeling helpless… hopeless.

Fleeto is a brutal affair: the language, through native Glaswegian accents, is constantly coarse, with the highest C-Word Quotient of any performance I’ve ever seen. But it never feels opportunistic or gratuitous; more a reflection of the reality of the environment the gangs find themselves in. The accent itself feels a little played up at the beginning of the piece: as Mackie (brilliantly played by Jordan McCurrach) reveals his shock at the attack on Wee Andy, the Police Officer – a weary and perfectly pitched Andy Clark – passively describes the “official” facts of the case… it almost feels like a translation lesson for those new to the accent. When Neil Lieper’s thoroughly evil Kenzie lets out his war cry, the rest of the “gang” (which included a cluster of local actors) yell and scream as they rush forth from the audience – a fantastic touch.

The presentation of the piece is a triumph: despite the violence described in the dialogue, the physical reenactments are abstract… Mackie and Kenzie remain on opposite sides of the stage during their savage brawl. In fact, there’s precious little that can be faulted with Fleeto – the only possible exception being that I initially thought that the final scene between Mackie and the victim’s mother (the wonderfully restrained Pauline Knowles) was dragging a bit… but by the time I’d left The Studio, I’d completely forgotten about that.

In short, Fleeto is magnificent. It’s a no-holds-barred criticism of the cost – and responsibility – of society on the underclass, and a bitter demonstration of how death – unfortunately – begets death. Whilst the language may be strong, and the implied violence brutal, so is the message.

After the show, writer Paddy Cunneen and Neil Lieper hosted a short Q&A session, ostensibly to allow the media to ask questions about Fleeto‘s sister show, Wee Andy. Cunneen peppered the short session with all sorts of information – local police in Glasgow are trying to get some violent crimes recategorised as a mental health issue, for example, citing that the perpetrators have often not had a stable upbringing. He also comments on insurance – money happily outlaid by the middle classes to protect their physical goods – in comparison to the reluctance for social welfare – taxes going on building stable social structures. Cunneen also indicated that he wanted to credit the audience’s sense of imagination in abstracting the violent aspects of the plays; doing so also allayed the risk of sensationalising the violence. But, most insightful of all, he described the gang’s revenge for the attack on Wee Andy as being a perverse form of care – the gang demonstrating to one of their own that someone is, indeed, looking out for them… as opposed to the fragile family structures that most of them possess.

An addendum: I write this a week after having seen the show; in the meantime, I’ve also seen Wee Andy, and had a long chat with Holden Street staff as to which order the shows should be seen in. My opinion, as crude and unlearned as it may be, is that Fleeto should be seen first.

[2012024] The Terrible Infants [FringeTIX]

Les Enfants Terribles Theatre Company @ Holden Street Theatres – The Arch

11:30am, Wed 22 Feb 2012

I emerge from His Ghostly Heart out into the heat, and spot Martin in the queue; we chat, we gossip, we head inside and split up. The small stage of The Arch has clusters of… something to the left and right, covered in grimy sheets; there’s a suitcase at the back of the stage. The music that played as the audience entered subtly increases in volume, and without me really noticing it’s become quite loud; suddenly the house lights cut out in time with the music – it’s a jolt that immediately snaps me into the world of Les Enfants Terribles.

A spotlight singles out the suitcase: an arm appears, then a body. A man purrs across the stage telling us of Tall Tales, shedding the sheets to reveal a small wagon to the left, a two-person band to the right. The book of Tall Tales is used to introduce Tilly, whose story creates the backbone of the performance.

Tilly tells tall tales, and from there other stories spring. There’s the story of Tumb’s Tum, in which Tumb eats his Mum, told with great use of umbrellas and a tuba, Tumb’s huge head wonderfully realised using large hemispherical domes; there’s the gorgeous puppetry that describes Little Linena, a true material girl. The poetic poignancy of Thingummyboy (The Boy Who Wasn’t There), some sublime shadow puppetry, and the sprouting of Tilly’s tail (a testament to her tall tales) keep the show ticking along.

Throughout, the presentation is immaculate: the elaborate costumes, sumptuous musicianship (roaming over the viola, tuba, piano, clarinet, guitar, accordion, etc), and perfect blocking of the multi-function wagon provides wonderful support to the central stories. The tightness of the space in The Arch works well for the constraint of the piece – unfortunately, I was sitting on the starboard side of the room near the wall, and the acoustics – with the band directly in front of me, and sound bouncing off the wall to my right – weren’t great. One of the guys (the third of the principal storytellers, who occasionally played the tuba) didn’t project that well, either – I’ve got a feeling that a more central position would’ve alleviated all of these problems, though.

But those little aural niggles cannot discount the fact that Les Enfant Terribles (I can barely speak it’s listed title) is a super-polished – and super-entertaining – affair. It’s a superb demonstration of how this sort of refined presentation can deliver a thoroughly rewarding experience, without having to be hidden beneath layers of gloss.

[2012023] His Ghostly Heart [FringeTIX]

Holden Street Theatre Company Inc @ Holden Street Theatres – The Manse

10:45am-ish, Wed 22 Feb 2012

I arrive at Holden Street way too early, so I grab some sugar and caffeine and sit down to write… well, pretty much anything at this stage. Martha arrives – it’s great to see her again – and asks whether I’m here for the Media Day – no, I reply, just Les Enfants and Fleeto. She mentions that there’s a media preview of His Ghostly Heart about to start – would I be interested in seeing it, numbers permitting? Hell yes, I say, and scurry over to meet the floor manager for the show. There’s twenty seats in the venue, she tells me, and there’s only seventeen confirmed at the moment; there’s a nervous wait for me as real media continues to turn up. In the end, I’m last-man-in.

The Manse is an intimate space, and it’s set up in much the same manner as Scarborough: a bed in the centre of the room, chairs lining the walls. Once we’re all seated, the doors are closed, the iPod is turned off – and the room is plunged into darkness, save for a crack or two of bright daylight seeping in through the sides of the door.

The pitch black is briefly broken by the light from another room as a Tom and Daisy, possibly mid-coitus, stagger through a door towards the bed, her legs wrapped around his waist. There’s some huffing and puffing – definitely coitus, and some awkward chat, before a holding of breath, a pause, and the sound as a condom lands with a laden plop on the floor.

As Daisy admonishes Tom for littering her floor with his prophylactic, the story within His Ghostly Heart opens right up; nothing is as it seems, as her presence – spiritual or otherwise – opens wound after gaping wound in Tom. In one timeframe, she is unable to change herself for the better, and willingly pays the price… but he still vainly tries to make an effort, evoking her in his memory as impetus.

Daisy’s needling becomes more and more direct, targeting Tom’s failures in brutal detail – and I’m quietly staggered. There’s so much of this that feels like it’s directed at me; in the dark, Daisy could be talking to me. The self-centred viewpoint, the rapid acceptance of blame… “even your nightmares are egotistical and solipsistic,” she snipes, and I am the one copping the bullet.

Finally, after one last snarling barrage, Daisy leaves the room, slamming the door as she goes; Tom wakes up on the bed with a start, sobbing. The light comes on for the first time and we see his see body heaving through the tears. He settles; the light goes off. The Ghosts are gone. Gentle applause, the door opens, daylight floods in.

And, in the warmth of the sun outside, I start to muse.

I loved the text behind His Ghostly Heart – and the direction, the presentation in that imagination-stoking room, is great. But the vocal performances, somehow, didn’t quite do it for me: maybe it was the jarring foreign references with local accents; maybe it was the slightly unnatural delivery. I wound up almost translating their speech on the fly in my head, interpreting the spoken word as written so as to let my imagination run wild with the words in the dark.

Sharing the room with the established media contingent was an odd experience, too: with hearing heightened by the darkness, the scratching of pens on paper as they took notes lent an odd texture to the near silence between words… and made me wonder about how those copious notes get distilled down into the short reviews that get published in all the usual outlets.

Overall, His Ghostly Heart was a conflicted presentation for me: I loved the story, but was disappointed by the delivery. Having said that, it’s still one of those experiences that I don’t regret in any way – and once again, I must thank Martha for the opportunity.

[2012022] Hardboiled Lolly [FringeTIX]

Loose Canon Arts @ The Cupola

10:45pm, Tue 21 Feb 2012

Lolly P Jones is a Private Investigator. She’s got a quick mouth, a sharp tongue, and a habit of getting into trouble. Liesel Badorrek (or Liesel Knievel, as the flyer says) presents Lolly as a strong woman who gets results, and puts forth three tales of her Private Investigations.

Lolly’s first case sees her in Nashville, adopting the disguise of a lesbian country-singing waitress in a case that… well, didn’t even really require investigating, really. Sure, Lolly’s fast-paced – and lavish – descriptions painted pretty pictures, but the plotting of this case was extremely linear, and without a decent closure.

The second case saw her hobby of competitive baking get deadly, and four “suspects” were dragged up from the audience – their introductions were funny (especially Olga and Golga, the Black Forrest Siamese Twins joined at the hand), but thereafter they were stuck onstage while she sang a great song (about lard) and clumsily “interviewed” them. It looked like a mighty uncomfortable position for them to be in, and I think that a shuffling of the elements of that section would help things mightily.

The third case saw her in Shanghai, waking up naked with a monkey… something to do with a woman called Chicken Chow Mein and some golden chopsticks. I can’t really remember, because I (and pianist Leonie Cohen) spent a chunk of time incredulously staring – glaring – at a guy in the second row who not only took a phone call, but proceeded to have a conversation for nearly two minutes. Two minutes! I shit you not. Five minutes after he hung up, he figured he’d leave, and bumped just about every empty chair in the place on his way out.

This was a tough, tough show to be in the audience for. Liesel was really putting her all into the performance, and some of her songs are great, full of clever (and so-bad-they’re-good) euphemisms – the chinese menu song, in particular, was pretty filthy. But the decent-sized crowd – maybe fifty-plus people? – weren’t really into it… there were a lot of crossed arms and reluctant claps, and that fucking idiot on the phone. What a dickhead.

But, truth be told, I wasn’t really that into it, either – other things were playing on my mind a fair bit, and some of the cheesy lines were just a little too cheesy, y’know? Still, big props go to Loose Cannon for trying something different, even if it didn’t quite come off this evening. Maybe with a different crowd, if I’d been in a different headspace, this would’ve been more fun.

[2012021] Sarah Kendall – Persona [FringeTIX]

Sarah Kendall @ Rhino Room – Downstairs

9:00pm, Tue 21 Feb 2012

In the non-Fringe-season – i.e., the other eleven months of the year – I pilfer the best bits of British TV. You know – using that dodgy internet thing. I regularly scan the shows on “offer” and snaffle the ones that look interesting, usually the cooking shows (which remain unwatched) and comedy programmes that we simply don’t get out here.

One day, I grabbed a comedy variety show – something like a Royal Gala performance or similar, I honestly can’t remember. But Sarah Kendall performed a short set on that program, and I was gobsmacked… an Aussie with a biting sense of humour and, seemingly, no fear of established norms.

Long story short – I was expecting a lot from Sarah Kendall. And I’m not sure I got it.

After quipping about the backstage area – which, for the Downstairs room at Rhino, is little more than a broom closet – Kendall passed judgement on the arrangement of the small crowd – it’s like there’s a divot in the middle of the room, she reckons. It’s a low key start – not what I was expecting – but it’s cheery enough.

But then she plunges into a river of material dredged from her experiences of motherhood, from reading adapted bedtime stories to her daughter (her modern additions to The Ugly Duckling are worth a chortle) to bizarre birthing stories, which detail her husband flying across the room to catch an errant piece of faecal matter.

And that stuff kinda loses me a bit.

But then she wins me back with stories of auditioning for TV ads, rants about pole dancing, and the hilarious/horrific description of her Worst Gig Ever. And her closer, a modern sequel to The Ugly Duckling, is a beautifully constructed affair, with callbacks to nearly every thread of the previous hour. It’s a clever piece that convinces me that Kendall is a great writer, and her delivery is perfect.

The problem is that the show, overall, was patchy. Kendall is clearly very comfortable onstage, and clearly has the wit and barb and bravery to turn any subject matter into humour… but there were too many bits that felt disposable, and some of the better bits had the feel of excess polish. Especially when I saw a good chunk of that material again the next night. And, indeed, on YouTube, from a spot recorded three years ago. And that, unfortunately, just has a hint of laziness about it.

Don’t get me wrong: the good bits are very very good… it’s just that there’s flat bits, too, and I wish that there wasn’t.

[2012020] Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Theatre [FringeTIX]

Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Theatre @ The Campanile

7:45pm, Tue 21 Feb 2012

Having a show titled “Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Theatre” gives a pretty clear indication of what to expect – high-pitched theatrical Scottish puppetry of a socky persuasion, one might think.

That’s spot-on-the-money, as it turns out.

The chortles start prior to even entering the venue – the pre-show music is a falsetto re-working of Cee Lo Green’s classic, and cunningly titled “Sock You”. The puppet booth (or rather, frame) is clad in tartan, and as soon as the manky socks that are the Falsetto Sock Puppets appear, you can tell that there’s some genuine laughs in store.

The two sock puppets – understandably – have a real rapport, and are blessed with not being able to talk over each other. But they form a classic double-act – straight-mansock on the left, joker on the right. There’s some truly terrible (in a good way) puns and lots of word-play; costume changes are frequent and mocked. The donning of a guitar (or piano!) for the odd musical interlude is always a delight, with the waggly arms of the puppets a perfect complement to the googly eyes.

Surprisingly, the show isn’t terribly profane… until the incredible take on Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, which manages to up the cuss-content to suitably-Scottish levels. But the writing is strong enough to hold the show up without having to resort to the joy inherent in foul-mouthed puppets; the word association bit is gloriously silly (when it should be groaningly sad), the saw-a-puppet-in-half magic trick is head-slappingly silly, and the analysis of the lyrics in Michael Jackson’s number one song Thriller Beat It Billie Jean Heal The World (“we really haven’t researched this at all”) is also a silly delight. Even the “entire” Star Wars encore, consisting of a mere two scenes, manages to turn a foolish idea into a silly romp.

See the common word there? Silly.

The Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Theatre is just silly good fun. There’s absolutely nothing serious about it – but sometimes, that’s more than enough to carry a show. If your neurons need a break, but you still want to laugh, you could certainly do a lot worse than the Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppets.

[2012019] Xavier Michelides in Future World! [FringeTIX]

Xavier Michelides @ Rhino Room – Downstairs

6:30pm, Tue 21 Feb 2012

As I wander into the Rhino Room for the first time this year, I’m struck by how quiet it is. I have a chat with Craig Egan – he’s a bit relieved that opening night is here, after weeks of running around preparing – but then it’s a matter of waiting… the start time is bumped a little, in the hopes that more people turn up. It is, after all, still pre-opening-night, and the Rhino Room is not The Garden.

Xavier Michelides pops out to the bar to address the three of us ticket-carriers – of which the other two are reviewers. I can do the show, he says, and there’s no problem – it doesn’t rely on audience interaction, but it might be uncomfortable if you’re the only people in the room. He offers us the option of another night; the other two consider it, but I reluctantly say no – I’m not sure I can see you at any other time, and I’d much rather see the show now… unless you are uncomfortable. Xavier assures us he’s fine, and we head in to the Downstairs space; at some stage the nod is given to the door guy, who softly announces “Comedians?” Suddenly, another half-dozen comedians bluster into the room, eager to catch a free show and bolstering the “crowd” to near-double-digits.

Michelides starts the show with a simple premise: we’re in a future where there’s too much work. In order to Get Stuff Done, people are brought forward in time from the past. Some of these characters are “normal” people, like our protagonist Zack and his “friend”, the ocker Brad Pitt… but most of the rest of the cast have a rather more significant historical role.

Zack meets Thomas Edison in the company cafeteria one day – Edison sounds suspiciously like Sean Connery, and is a bit of an egotistical arsehole (especially when it comes to Tesla – Topsy the elephant is mentioned a few times). But they strike up a relationship, and Edison invites Zack over for dinosaur steaks – imported from the past, he says, by The Boss.

But the sharing the existence of historical steaks is a faux pas; The Boss kills Edison using his de-quark-alator, and – unaware of Edison’s demise – Zack applies for his now-vacant position… which involves the selection of employees for dismissal, whereupon they, too, are dequarkalated, their constituent quarks used to patch up holes in the space-time metaverse. At first Zack’s job is simple – Hitler, Stalin, and Pol Pot are easy to “fire” with a clear conscience, but when it gets down to Marie Antoinette things are a little more dubious. To say more would be to ruin some of the fun; let’s just say that Head of Security Stephen Hawking gets involved, a battle for the integrity of the metaverse ensues, and there’s a feel-good ending.

Future World! is a fantastic show – it’s an intelligent, well-paced script, and Michelides is (frankly) spectacular in bringing all his characters to life – whether it’s the ocker Brad Pitt, the evil Boss, the ridiculous English accent of Stephen Hawking, or the one-liners from some of history’s greatest monsters, Xavier’s voices and mannerisms make them all completely unique – and even during the rapid-fire dialogue of the denouement, there’s only one small slip where the wrong voice is attached to the wrong mannerism. I had no idea who Michelides was prior to this show, but rest assured I’ll be following him in the future.