4 Star Reviews in 2007

25 August 2007

Mitch Benn Music Club

The Scotsman

MITCH BENN is a seriously talented musician. He is also a clever, focused and prolific comic. His Global Warming Song is now many, many years old, but both precedes and surpasses most of the material that any of the comics here this year are doing on the subject. Mitch is big in every way (every way that is discernible when a man is on a stage dressed in loose-fitting jeans and a smock) and has absolutely no difficulty in commanding the wide open spaces of the Cowbarn. He starts with a Sgt Pepper-based introduction to his band, blasts on to do damage to James Blunt, confesses to never having had a Smiths phase and composes his own homage to War of the Worlds, basing his rock opera on what can only be described as a much less complex work of fiction. His take on Pop Idol is not only cleverly bittersweet, but also beautifully sung. He borrows the "Reading the Phone Book" idea from the company who are getting comics to do that very thing here at The Green Room, and sings the encyclopaedia. During the interval he makes up a song using six words shouted out by the audience. Yes, interval. A two-hour show at 11pm is arguably the triumph of ego over everything else in August. But they are two good hours. A medley of his greatest hit Everything Sounds Like Coldplay Now precedes tonight's guest Guy Pratt. And it is here, performing Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb that Benn really comes to life. He is a far-better-than-average musician and, onstage with wit, raconteur and bass legend Pratt, he looks like he has passion, like he is really enjoying himself. And that makes an audience enjoy him more.

Benn is arguably a victim of his own prodigious talent. And you sometimes get a sense he is not challenged by what he does. But he does do it so very well, I'd still recommend the show. And the albums.

Simple Girl

The Scotsman

MELANIE WILSON'S one-woman show is a quirky gem. Standing at a vintage microphone, one finger pressing a key on a sampler packed full of kooky sounds and Hitchockian pulsing strings, Wilson weaves a fantastical tale of derring-do. She conjures a world of international espionage and adventures across Europe's most romantic cities, smoking Gauloises in Paris, cigarillos in Istanbul and Café Crèmes in Vienna as she saves the day. There's no attempt to disguise it's a fiction, a fantasy that's being shared and it's all the more absorbing for that.

Then she steps out from behind the mic and the tone changes, suddenly in a more mundane world, Wilson lists her achievements and awards (Cycling Proficiency is about the most impressive). Full of questions and wonder, she frets about dates and dating and the nature of savage love. She talks directly to the audience asking them questions and involving them as participants in conversations only she fully understands.

Tall and willowy (although she insists at one point that she's a lot smaller than she seems), Wilson is an utterly absorbing performer, simultaneously funny and warm and just a little bit scary. When she fixes one audience member with her gaze and suggests to him that he's deeply suspicious of her, he doesn't disagree but nor does he squirm. There's something so intimate about her performance that he seems grateful he's been picked for special treatment.

Known for her work as a sound artist, Wilson creates a wonderful soundscape. With impeccable timing, she uses samples to complement her monologue but also to throw something unpredictable into the mix. It's both surprising and funny.

Just occasionally you come across a show on the fringe that's innovative, startling and ever so slightly indefinable. For me, Simple Girl is it.

24 August 2007

The Ethics of Progress

Fest

Natalia Baal

Cast you minds back to science lessons in school, where, bored out of your minds, you were taught about the molecular differences between solids, liquids and gases. In fact forget that and think of all the drab and uninterested people in the world, excited by nothing but still boring you with the details. Here in The Ethics of Progress is something very different.
Aided only by two large screens and a pair of stools, a friendly man called John embarks on a monologue, attempting to explain certain aspects of quantum mechanics – something he reminds us we never get taught in school. This ‘play’ is essentially a lesson, and whereas that would usually put most people off, everyone in the audience is intrigued and, unlike most of humanity, willing and eager to learn. We hear about the realities of superpositioning and entanglement, and the possibilities of teleportation; we listen as he explores their implications, both good and bad, for our future; and we watch him as he bravely speaks about the progress of humanity and the ethics involved, all the while relaxed by his light-hearted humour and innocent jokes.

People who wonder around the Fringe searching for a quick fix will most likely compare this show to one of those productions that visit schools so as to make learning more fun. But for those more patient amongst you, this original performance presents a rare species of man: one that is so excited and motivated by something he has happened upon, that he is compelled to share his passion with as many people as possible. And it works: his enthusiasm is infectious.

The Collector

Fest

Based on the novel by John Fowles, The Collector is certain to be one of the most satisfying sinister plays you'll see this Fringe

Wednesday 22 August by Yasmin Sulaiman

Based on the novel by John Fowles, The Collector tells the story of Frederick Clegg, a recent lottery winner who aims to make all his dreams come true by spending his life with the woman he loves, Miranda Grey. The trouble is, she doesn’t know he exists: so he kidnaps her and locks her in the cellar of his new country home in the vain hope of getting to know her better.

The dank stone walls of the Underbelly can perhaps be given some credit in setting the vividly unsettling atmosphere of this thrilling exploration into the mind of a stalker. However, the vast majority must surely be apportioned to the two actors’ staggering performances. Mark Fleischmann’s portrayal of Clegg’s creepy logic and almost unswerving devotion to Miranda is especially absorbing and, by the time The Collector reaches its inevitable conclusion, Clegg is transformed from the timid and unassuming character of the play’s first few minutes into an eerie and repulsive figure of a man – without actually having altered any of his mannerisms.

Unfortunately, the occasional heavy-handed dialogue can encroach on some otherwise bewitching performances. But in a play that’s so fraught with tension, it’s difficult for anything to distract the audience from the mesmerising see-saw of power relations that play out between the kidnapper and his victim. And whether it’s the developing friendship that arises between Clegg and Miranda that captures your attention or the lucid insight we’re given into Clegg’s warped psyche, The Collector is certain to be one of the most satisfyingly sinister plays you’ll see this Fringe.

Longwave

Fest

Longwave is a rough-cut gem that incites wonder without twinkling opulently. Tune in and marvel

Wednesday 22 August by Junta Sekimori

In a faraway shack partitioned from the civilised world by a stark, glacial landscape, one long wave radio keeps two scientists anchored in a quaint reality defined solely by the few things that surround them in their humble everyday. As if to extend the boundaries of their small world, the pair systematically squeeze their environs for all its worth, concocting whimsical experiments out of the sundry apparatus they have brought with them.

The play begins as they return in their foreboding anti-radiation suits to the comfort of their cabin with a round, anonymous object. They summarily commence a full-on investigation into the nature of this artefact, examining its aerodynamic properties and electrical conductivity before moving on to psychoanalysing it with a Rorschach test. The indifferent relic remains tacit, but the boffins are nonetheless pleased with the progress they are making and go on to celebrate their success with a champagne glass of chlorinated water.

Longwave is a comedy of gestures in the vein of Charlie Chaplin’s silent films with quirky humanistic elements borrowed from the universe of Jean-Pierre Jeunet. Without exchanging a word the two capricious characters connect in mind and work together to sate their shared curiosity of life. Above all else they are humans confronted by a baffling world full of unknowns who refuse to be tied down by the dogma of logic, and who express no surprise even when it is revealed that one of their cans of ration contains no grub but instead a dulcet moo sound.

For a large part of the play, what we get is a series of ludic sketches soundtracked by the diegetic radio, but at some point in the second half curiosity segues into a solemn longing for home and for normality. By the time the final segment comes, Longwave has become something very different to what it was in the beginning. Something with a hypnotic quality that gently invokes the kind of emotions normally reserved for reminiscences of childhood.

Unassumingly exuberant, Longwave is a rough-cut gem that incites wonder without twinkling opulently. Tune in and marvel.

Painkillers

Fest

An inquiry into the nature of truth takes place in the prison cell of a murderer

Wednesday 22 August by Michael Collins

Painkillers is one of those surprising Fringe shows that moves – in the space of fifteen minutes – from rather boring to completely enthralling. As it reaches the half-way mark, the attention of the audience begins to ebb, but as the play poses the question: "what is the nature of truth?" it captivates the viewers who fully engage with the performance to the end.

Set in the solitary prison cell of Angela, sent down for murder, we are shown a number of interviews held between her and aspiring writer Nadia, who is researching a book on what drives women to kill. As the interviews progress, however, both characters reveal themselves to be something other than their demeanour suggests.

Paul Buie’s script manages to incorporate the difficult themes of violence and sexual abuse into the narrative with admirable sensitivity, never forcing them too crudely upon the audience, but leaving their presence lurking constantly. This harrowing subject matter is balanced finely by a sharp and incisive wit, endearing you to two characters that are in many respects unlovable.

The performances of both Laura Ford (Angela) and Amanda Beethan-Wallace (Nadia) command the otherwise minimal set of a prison cell. The clever use of grainy images projected onto the prison wall manages to hauntingly convey the past life of Amanda, whilst the use of recorded voice leads us to question that which is actually spoken by the characters themselves.

This is a play that offers few answers but instead revels in exposing disturbing but equally intriguing questions of truth and motives. Interviewee frequently becomes interviewer as both vulnerability and vindictiveness is exposed on both sides. Painkillers is a clever and moving exposition of hurt, motives and selfishness, that suggests multiple possibilities for the audience to consider.

Steve Williams - Binge Thinking

The Scotsman

AFTER several years of considerable promise, Steve Williams has finally crafted an hour worthy of his talents.

His affable manner and skill at ad-libbing encourages audience contributions and Williams generously indulges them, his arcane knowledge and impressive capacity for regional accents creating an inclusive environment where everyone feels in on the joke.

Yet whereas in the past he would allow himself to be distracted, now he sensibly talks the more vociferous elements down gently before moving on.

Binge Thinking refers to his bookending theme. At the start Williams explains that he's quit drinking for thinking, a neat jumping-off point for his more surreal routines, culminating in a brilliant dolphin call finale that's so absurd it convinces him to resume his relationship with the booze.

This affected anxiety over alcohol consumption is a quintessentially middle-class preoccupation and if there's a real theme to Williams's show, it's this self-proclaimed working-class comic's concern about appearing out of place in refined company.

The disparity between his up-for-a-lark temperament and his girlfriend's soberness underlies the image of him wielding a pig penis to uncork a wine bottle or imagining Guy Fawkes as a black-pepper-sprinkling waiter in the Houses of Parliament restaurant.

Yet alongside these more surreal episodes, he delivers acutely resonating moments of everyday observation. A likeable jack of so many comedy trades, Williams is emerging as a master of them all.

23 August 2007

7 Spies At The Casino

Broadway Baby

David Niven tells the bizarre tale of Charles Feldman's 1967 film, Casino Royale. A film which was originally intended to be as faithful to Fleming as its predecessor, Thunderball, but turned into a unique cinematic car-crash featuring at least five different directors and a slew of writers including Woody Allen, Peter Sellers, Val Guest, Ben Hecht, Joseph Heller, Terry Southern, and Billy Wilder. It was also hideously over-budget at $12 million, making it one of the most expensive films ever made at the time.

The film famously featured an off-camera feud between Orson Welles and Peter Sellers, so Sellers would refuse to appear on set with Welles. Except for a couple of shots, neither would be in the studio at the same time. Sellers eventually walked off the production early, but not before attempting to re-write large chunks of it and channel his dead mother's directions. The final sequences included flying saucers and Frankenstein's Monster, but surprisingly it still made money. Possibly due to marketing strategy that included a naked tattooed lady on the film posters.

A similar image appears on the posters for this Fringe show in which actor Paul Lavers plays the role of David Niven. Niven was the central character in Casino Royale, and so a natural point of view to talk about the chaos happening around him. Like Niven, Lavers is a charming storyteller, who occasionally slips into other characters to weave this hour-long monologue. Lavers is witty, easy to watch and tells a fascinating, well researched tale.

The hour felt like it had slipped by far too quickly, and I left with a strong desire to find a video shop to rent the movie! [Pete Shaw]

Escaping Hamlet

Metro

It's not quite Rosencrantz And Guildenstern Are Dead, but Teatro Dei Borgia's riff on Shakespeare's most celebrated tragedy is a thing of heady, fearsome enchantment. Natalia Capra's script sets the action in a Denmark blighted by alcoholism and insanity, not so much rotten as putrid.

Its protagonist Kate is a Danish drama student who finds herself trapped in the creeping gravity of Claudius's court. She's not alone in this; slugging vodka desperately, the wild-eyed younger generation – Hamlet, Laertes and Ophelia – all talk constantly of escape.

With better intentions and in better balance than Shakespeare's characters, they drink because they nonetheless feel the crushing hand of tragedy pressing down on them. No matter how hard they try to change things, they can't gain enough momentum to break through the absolutes of Shakespeare's plot – only Kate is immune from the grim inevitability of the conclusion.

To this end, Giuseppe Avallone's direction is awash with magnificently haunting flourishes. Vignettes from the original play unfold mysteriously in glowing alcoves, away from the main action, while Charlie Palmer's chipper, upbeat lead is literally shadowed by other incarnations of himself.

Though occasionally self-indulgent, Escaping Hamlet is for the most part a whimsical, tragic postmodern fairy tale that thrusts Shakespeare's characters through the looking glass and into a terrifying, beautiful wonderland.

Land On My Tongue

one4review

Contradictions abound in this comedy of the absurd, written and directed by Hugh Jordan. There is the girl (Helen Plummer) who is fishing in a pond with no fish and who is much older than she looks; there is the wife (Caroline Norton) who has a fixation for her son but she really would have preferred a daughter and there is the husband (James Thomas Williams) who spends much time in the garden but is he actually doing any gardening?

Despite this complex mix, the husband actually gives the most perfect advice on how to look after roses.

As the play develops it may be that these characters were fated to meet and perhaps resolve the loss of the husband and wife’s son who was killed on active service as a soldier. The direction is crisp and the three characters are played beautifully with a mix of passionate intensity and quiet sensitivity. It is spellbinding theatre.

22 August 2007

Limbo

British Theatre Guide

After over a fortnight of solo shows, this Northern Irish monologue is really refreshing. It is a perfectly judged production that features an outstanding performance from Caroline Williamson as Claire.

She is a 17 year old who twitches nervously like a runty dog as she tells a sad tale that is all too familiar.

This junior meatpacker is adopted by the older girls from work who take her clubbing on her birthday.

When they leave Claire behind, she gets picked up by a man almost three times her age. The consequence is inevitable but there is a twist in the tail, albeit fairly predictable. The ensuing pregnancy is dealt with sensitively, with the man coming out as something of a white knight, at least up to a point

Director Dan Shere gets the pacing right and adds to the impression by underlighting Miss Williamson in one of Edinburgh's most gripping hours.

21 August 2007

Carey Marx: Sincerity Aside

Fest

The bizarre flavour of the show straddles the line between a carefully cultivated, naive friendliness and jaw-dropping insolence.

Carey Marx, it seems, can get away with anything: "Aw, that Carey Marx is a lovely chap. Let's invite him round for dinner tomorrow. He can tell mother that hilarious joke about the time he was wanking on his fiancé's face." "But mightn't she be terrifically offended by his quips at the expense of the disabled? She is in a chair, after all." "Oh, tosh, Freya. You know full well that his new rape gag will go down a treat over sherry."

How, one might ask, does Marx accomplish this feat? Well, aside from the brownie points garnered from writing exceptionally funny jokes, Marx deploys, on carefully chosen occasions, a singularly indefeasible anti-abuse weapon: Parsnip. Parsnip is a prodigiously cute teddy bear. A solid five-second tickling of the ted serves to sweep up gasps of disgust under the carpet of delighted giggles. Parsnip is hugged; Parsnip is patted; Parsnip is used to enact an aggressive bumming. Hilarity ensues.

But it's not just Parsnip doing all of the work. While Marx never takes the same liberties with his own arse, he remains a major factor in the bizarre flavour of the show, straddling as it does the line between a carefully cultivated, naîve friendliness and jaw-dropping insolence. Marx lounges around listening to music as the audience file in; Marx does his own sound and lighting – he is worried that the light might be uncomfortably bright for front-rowers; Marx scraps the microphone and performs intimately to his audience; Carey (we're friends enough by now) comprehensively lambasts midgets. What a guy.

He sweats alot – it's clearly quite exhausting, bless. But, then, it's exhausting for the audience, too. He delays getting onstage for a while, preferring to natter with his new chums initially because, once he sets foot on the platform, the tap is released on an hour-long torrent of jokes. They might be some of the best jokes around this festival, but an hour's a long time to keep chortling. Just lie back and think of Parsnip.

by Evan Beswick

Ian Stone: Healthy Disrespect

Fest

To spend an hour listening to his jokes is a guilty pleasure: he’s like a higher brow version of Roy Chubby Brown, in the best possible sense.

Ian Stone is an angry man, so angry in fact that his own mother complains about him in his local paper. In a world full of irritable thirty-something comedians from London who stack BBC panel shows it is easy to tire of jokes about taking kids shopping and the cost of items for the home. With Stone however you get a higher plane of irritability.

He uses his Jewishness as a license to safely knock Israel but is equally at home laying into Islamists, the Catholic Church and Diana. There’s even a Chris Langham joke for good measure. He says that he supports gay adoption because he likes the idea of having one around the house for the kids to play with. To spend an hour listening to his jokes is a guilty pleasure: he’s like a higher brow version of Roy Chubby Brown, in the best possible sense.

He jokes about anyone and everything which you might find mildly annoying, and his argument that the Middle East could be solved by making the West Bank all seater is surprisingly convincing – it worked at Arsenal after all. If you happen to be Israeli, Islamic, religious in any way or simply easily offended then you are probably better off going to see Nicholas Parsons. If on the other hand you wish to pack yourself into a sweaty underground room for an hour this man is as good a reason as any.

by Dominic Hinde

Reginald D Hunter - F**k You In The Age of Consequ

Metro

Reginald D Hunter originally wanted to call his show Reginald D Hunter In Finally A Show That Doesn't Have The Word Nigga In The Title. Another option was Coonraker. But he challenges those who say he could get away with it because he's black. Instead he insists it's simply because he's willing to deal with the consequences.

And dealing with consequences is what drives the show – whether it be in relationships with women ('I don't put them on pedestals unless they're about to f**k me'), the semantics of race in the UK ('Nig nog… what's that? It sounds like shit black people are meant to drink at Xmas') and other topics, including sex education and taking responsibility for your own actions.

Movies play an important part too. There's a particularly funny skit on how different audience reaction would be had Brokeback Mountain featured two old black men going at it like knives rather than two A-list heart-throbs.

Saying that, he devotes way too much time to showing off his movie credentials to the extent that what began with a bang peters out with a muted whimper when he uses the plot of a Japanese movie involving the rape of a bus driver to get the cheapest of laughs.

Still that lapse in judgment aside, Hunter's slick delivery and storytelling prowess make for some top entertainment.

by Alan Chadwick

Richard Herring - Oh f**ck, I'm 40!

The Herald

Richard Herring is newly 40 but the evidence to the contrary is that he has no proper job, no wife and no kids. The overwhelming evidence for is that he wears pseudo-youth clothing, and has an unused skateboard and hair that attempts to compensate for greyness with length.

His age anxiety manifests itself in other, rarely dignified, ways. Indeed, his confessional style regularly makes one fear it's just going to be embarrassing for all of us. However, Herring is too mature a comedian to allow that. He is remarkably open about his attempts to sleep with lots of women, ideally in their early twenties, and leer at women even younger (cue a very good allusion to comic and convict Chris Langham). Other highlights include the amusing consequences of being pedantic about dirty talk and the hilarious consequences of interpreting "witty" slogan T-shirts as potentially legally binding contracts.

Beth Pearson

Stewart Lee - 41st Best Stand-Up Ever!

The Scotsman

THE audience is packed into the purple cow tighter than Christian fundamentalists into a Jerry Springer The Opera protest group. It feels odd seeing Stewart Lee in such a rock'n'roll space, but you can't stay underground when you are the 41st Best Stand-Up Ever (according to Channel 4, so it must be true).

This year's show is something of a masterclass in comedy technique. All the Lee party tricks are there - the pauses, the deconstruction, the repetition, but that is not a criticism. Obviously (according to Channel 4, so it must be true), there are 40 other stand-ups more masterful than him, but sitting watching his show you will be hard pushed to think of who they might be.

Lee's show this year has TV executives in its sights, as well as Russell Brand and people who claim political correctness has gone too far. In a brave move into new comedic territory, Lee also turns the razor edge of his intellect upon not only his mother (a comedy fan and skilled quiltmaker) but also comedy legend Tom O'Connor.

For a lesser comedian, I could can imagine that dedicating half your set to your mum and Tom O'Connor might prove disastrous. But Lee is the 41st Best Stand Up Ever. So, of course, he makes it very, very funny. But the memory I shall take from this show is that of Lee lying in the foetal position, reliving the Funniest Moment in TV Ever (as chosen by public vote). It is at least my 41st Funniest Moment in Edinburgh Ever. By Kate Copstick

This Sketch Show Belongs to Lionel Richie

Metro

Stickers have been appearing in Edinburgh lately, marking an odd selection of items (lamp posts, fire extinguishers, children) as belonging to Lionel Richie.

That's thanks to comedy quartet This Sketch Group Belongs To Lionel Richie, named in honour of member Barry Fern's new, deed-poll backed, identity as – you guessed it – Lionel Richie.

The four members – previously known as The Leisure Virus – have created an hour of surreal genius. Sketches include a sodomised boiler, an ornithologist waxing biological about vaginas and a talking deer that bigs up Mr Richie at random intervals. In one brilliant scene, Simon Spencer-Hyde is forced by staff shortages to play good cop, bad cop, chief inspector and duty solicitor, with an energy that makes you ache just watching. All four are capable actors too, turning in deadpan performances that, aside from a few bum notes, have the crowd in stitches. And the show ends with a synchronised boogie to All Night Long. What more could you ask for?

by Zofia Niemtus

20 August 2007

Umbrella Birds: WC

The Scotsman

CLAIRE SMITH

E4 UDDERBELLY'S PASTURE (VENUE 300)

THE ubiquitous Mark Watson turns up at the meeting point outside the purple cow to guide us to the venue, a Portakabin public toilet parked up in George Square.

But this show isn't about him, it's about his missus - aka Emily Watson Howes - who has written and performs in an all-girl sketch show set in a ladies' loo. It's an intimate affair that only ten audience members can see at once; while it sounds like a novelty show, though, the setting is actually a brilliant way of stringing together a series of sketches for a female cast.

Characters arrive, interact, and then leave again - just as they would do in a real toilet. A woman comes in to carry out a pregnancy test, a middle-class mother reassures her daughter after a dreadful play and, funniest of all, a stand-up comedienne, rehearsing for her first gig, enlists the help of a stranger to give her a crash course in how to deal with hecklers. There's also a strung-out Egyptologist, a traffic warden who's a mine of misleading celebrity gossip, and a couple of mini-storylines involving a charity mugger and a girl in a chicken outfit.

There's a fantastic cast of characters here, and with tight writing, strong characterisation and snappy delivery, the sketches are laugh-out-loud funny. An hour on a hard seat in a Portakabin is uncomfortable, but I'm already looking forward to telling people in a few years' time: "I saw Emily Watson Howes performing in a toilet in Edinburgh back in 2007."

Until 27 August. Today 4pm

Something Blue

The Scotsman

SALLY J STOTT

UNDERBELLY (VENUE 61)

LITTLE Red Riding Hood goes on a dinner date with the Big Bad Wolf, falls in love and gives him her heart. He eats it. This is that kind of show - a brilliantly funny and extremely physical look at the realities of romance, with all their inherent humour and sadness. Played out through a series of sketches, some exquisite a cappella singing and terrific costumes, five tremendously versatile female clowns take on the guises of a variety of weird and wonderful - but ultimately very human - characters.

Having met and trained at Paris's prestigious Lecoq Theatre School, the company are a delight to watch, teasing out a tremendous amount of comic and emotive content from the smallest of moments. The show is directed by renowned master of clowning Angela De Casto and her expertise is strongly felt.

The piece starts off seemingly quite predictably, with traditional clown-like characters moving around the audience, making innocent banter, touching us with feathers and suchlike. However, events take a darker turn, when a girl (played by the supremely talented Yngvild Aspeli) attempts to hang herself with a phone chord as part of a musical number about waiting for a lover's call.

In one of the play's most touching moments the same disheartened girl is comforted by a small hand puppet man. It's a wonderfully honest portrayal of love, made all the more effective by its detailed simplicity. And then Little Red Riding Hood appears and covers herself in chocolate, Marmite and ketchup. This is a play that likes contrasts. At times the more trite moments can feel a little like Smack the Pony for stage. It's also a shame that the piece is so sketch-orientated - something that leaves little space to develop what are essentially very big ideas about love and life.

However, there's no time to pause for breath as whenever anything gets too silly or just too sad, something of the opposite intent cuts in. Comedy and tragedy are never far apart in the world of both the clown and the human heart.

Until 26 August. Today 2.35pm

Tom Tom Club

Herald

Not so much a musical event, more a hip-hop circus - in the best possible sense - the Tom Tom Club combines feats of rhythmical creativity and acrobatic daring. As kit drumming and DJ scratching set a pulse, the latter taking muscular liberties with Whole Lotta Love to pump up the atmosphere, a superbly coordinated team emerges to perform back flips and somersaults to appreciative "wooos". We ain't seen - or heard - nuthin' yet, though.

There's Tom Thum, who recreates the sound of his dad's scratchy old vinyl collection being sampled and turned into a throbbing, bass-heavy hip-hop orchestra - all with his mouth - and then trumps this by repeating a similar operation while spinning on his head. Even this, however, is but a taster for look-no-safety-net exploits on sashes suspended from the ceiling, formation tumbling and the grand finale which involves something resembling a cross between a seesaw and a medieval siege weapon firing scarily airborne bodies.

Not everyone is impressed - the chap in front of me took to catching up with his text messages and stoically refused to applaud any of the action - but there can't be many more exciting spectacles on Fringe 07 than this.

Rob Adams

19 August 2007

Toulson & Harvey

Fest

by Dominic Hinde

Just try not to sit in the front row or you may find yourself transformed into someone entirely different.

The two men who climb onto the stage are Luke Toulson and Stephen Harvey. Beyond that nothing else is certain. The distinction between fantasy and reality is smudged as the duo embark on a series of sketches in which they largely play themselves, giving audience members false identities.

Astonishingly, this works rather well. So, a middle aged man in the front row becomes the adulterous wife of a Spanish folk singer and a teenager is transformed into a marine biologist from Helsinki. Toulson ends up hosting newsnight and accompanying Gordon Brown as he sings to the nation while Harvey gets sacked for getting drunk before their big Wembley gig. There are not really any jokes or killer lines to pick out, the enjoyment comes almost entirely from the duo themselves who are consumate performers, having honed their relationship over the past few years. This is the kind of comedy which never sounds as funny when you repeat it yourself.

While the pair's grasp on truth and lies is less than secure, their grasp on a sizeable chunk of awards nominations is solid and well deserved. The material has changed since last year but the performance is as hilarious as ever. Just try not to sit in the front row or you may find yourself transformed into someone entirely different.

The Dresser

Fest

By Natalia Baal

With a quality script from Academy Award winner Ronald Harwood and an impressive cast, The Dresser is both watchable and thought-provoking.

Shakespeare’s plays have given the world of theatre so much material that there exists an entire repertoire of spin-off plays written by both his contemporaries and ours. There is of course Tom Stoppard’s wonderful Rosencrantz and Gildenstern are Dead, which tells of the adventures and mishaps that two relatively unimportant characters in Hamlet experience in between the scenes of the main play. And here, in The Dresser, we have a play not about the characters, but about the people behind the scenes in a back-stage dressing room during a performance of King Lear.

The Dresser, set during the Blitz, introduces us to a Shakespearean actor (only ever referred to as “Sir”) who is experiencing a break-down of sorts after spending his life pretending to be other people. We watch as his long-suffering dressing room assistant of 16 years desperately tries to comfort him, picking up all the pieces and putting them back together in order to get him out on stage. With a quality script from Academy Award-winner Ronald Harwood, complete with timely wit and an impressive cast, The Dresser is both watchable and thought-provoking. It is a novel play about mutual dependency, loyalty, and dedication, and of course the tragedy of when these go unrecognised and things take a turn for the worse.

Tony Lee - XXX, Aggressive Comedy Hypnosis

Fresh Air FM

I cannot tell you too much about this show. Tony Lee repeats his material so it is better if I keep schtum about particulars. I have never seen anything like it, but then I have never been to anything like it (unless we’re counting those magic shows you get at birthday parties at the age of 2).

Our hypnotist looks like a squaddie. Or a bouncer. Or a wall. He booms into his microphone, which rarely leaves his lips, and has a catalogue of tonal variants with which he controls his performers. Because this is very much a case of cat amongst the pigeons. Volunteer at your peril. I was, if I'm honest, terrified from the start - I had had this show recommended to me and I had some idea of what volunteering might result in. Embarrassment? You have NO idea! My state of fear prevented any hypnotism to take effect and I stayed sunk in the relative comfort of my plastic seat, but it was a jubilant night for Tony as one of the Udderbelly crew fell into a deep deep sleep…

This show sparked discussion as to the ethics of the hypnotist’s art, but also created something else - the possibility of believing the unbelievable. Disbelief is impossible. The things he gets people to do! In a weird way this is quite encouraging. There are still mysteries to be beheld in this life.

GO AND SEE IT! Laura Smith

Wunderkind

Fringe Review

To paraphrase a saying, The best way to make a test screening audience laugh is to tell them your plans. In this case Sean Quinn is the film writer-director in question, played brilliantly by Owen McDonnell. Sean gives us a rivitingly energetic account of how his ego went from hero to zero.

Sean has put in so much effort only to have things fall apart at the test screening stage which, as we all know, is a critical hurdle to leap over in order to get your movie into the theatres. It might be less crushing if the studio then sent you on your merry way but no, they want to rework your masterpiece to the Disney paradigm, that formula which always works.

If this was a movie, it would make a nice double bill with The Player. The characters that populate Sean's world are familiar enough in any work environment, except that in the film world things tend to be magnified to such a hideous degree it's a wonder that the murder rate isn't so much higher than it is.

The are enough good jokes here and observations about the highs and lows of human existence that it feels like a four star show. I felt, though, that the nice use of multimedia, with film screen cutaways of actors and directors talking about Sean, made Owen's delivery seem a little static. This isn't physical theatre. A red face, raised voice and pacing aren't quite enough. The props weren't used imaginitively. It could have been broadcast live as a radio play. It was a great pleasure to hear, though.

Overall, a strong piece, a fast-paced story-ride well worth seeing.

AG

Bridget Christie - The Court Of King Charles II

Chortle

This bonkers show properly encapsulates the spirit of the fringe: an idea so seemingly flimsy and unworkable, spun way out into unlikely directions, but done with such dedication and charm, it somehow works.

Based primarily on their similar hairstyles, Bridget Christie has developed an unhealthy obsession with King Charles II, so has chosen to perform her second solo show in his character, with help from other celebrities of the day, Guy Fawkes, Oliver Cromwell and, surreally, The Great Fire Of London.

Like other historical-based stand-up shows – including her husband Stewart Lee’s hilarious Johnson and Boswell offering at the Traverse – it’s the Restoration Monarch’s take on modern life that provides the laughs. Or, more precisely, it’s Christie’s playful, frisky delivery of those observations that makes the show such a joy. She undermines the conventions of character comedy immediately – she’s obviously not really royal, and addresses the audience as herself, complaining that donning the garb of a 17th Century ruler isn’t always appreciated in 21st Century East London.

It’s typical of the clever balancing acts she pulls off in the show – between character and herself, between weighty proclamations and deliberately amateurish delivery, between haughty regal attitude and daft stunts.

Christie knows how to work the room, easily joshing the audience into participating in her stupid, juvenile games. She’s a relaxed, fluid performer taking any unexpected event in her stride, and by not taking herself at all seriously, a mischievous spirit fills the room.

The kitsch show runs out of steam in the last ten minutes or so, as Christie serves up some straightforward stand-up about her bleak honeymoon in the Shetlands and a drab dub-reggae number performed by all her characters. A power failure didn’t help, but it wasn’t the big finish such a low-budget extravaganza deserved.

Still, we had fun, and that’s the aim. Charles was the Merrie Monarch, after all, and in Christie, his spirit lives on.

Reviewed by: Steve Bennett

Debbie Does Dallas - The Musical!

one4review

One of the best titles to be found in the Fringe brochure this year is Debbie does Dallas - The Musical. Those of us of a certain age will no doubt remember the movie, probably the best known film of that genre, but how to recreate this on stage and turn it into a musical as well!!!

This is of course a tongue in cheek productions and the innuendos are flying thick and fast through the entire production, as naive Debbie, Louise Dearman cheerleading captain gets selected to join the Dallas Cowboys cheerleading squad, oh and save the sea creatures but she needs money to travel to her dream. Assisted by her friends, well most of them, the money has to be raised but at what cost to her morals and relationship.

This is a very well drilled romp of a musical, and although some of the songs are rather forgettable, the singing voices, choreography and high energy performances of the ensemble certainly make this a must see early evening show.

Cirque de Sabotage

Scots Gay

This performance is probably ingenius, with Laurel and Hardy-esque sketches of trapeze and hoopla. A rather amusing lion taming incident which would have the SPCA in a tizz and a gypsy trying to sell coat hangers to the audience! 3 hot girls, an alternative gay ending to Harry Potter and what happens when Jade Goody visits a mosque all contributed to making this a comedy with a diffference. These girls are hilerious, each with their own humour which combined to make fluid comedy genius.

17 August 2007

Umbrella Birds: WC

Chortle

Many Fringe venues might fairly be described as toilets, but only this one is the real deal.

Four-woman sketch group Umbrella Girls (Mark Watson’s wife Emily Watson Howes, plus Kate Donmall, Kerry Howard and Susanna Hislop) have hired a Portaloo for this most Fringey of Fringe experiences. Packed into one end of the tiny room, the audience watch a parade of characters going about their business.

They chat on their mobiles, break down in tears, gossip, bitch, row, preen and reassure each other. Good job this is set in a women’s toilet; the range of behaviour in a gent’s would be a lot more limited. Men rarely strike up a conversation in the these circumstances, but women will – even if the encounter is always going to come with a certain level of awkwardness, ideal to exploit for comedy. Sitting in the audience of such an odd venue, you do feel unusually close to the action, eavesdropping on snippets of other people’s lives. That feeling is only heightened by the note-perfect performance of the quartet, producing naturalistic characters that remain believable, even when they are accompanied by a giant parrot mascot.

A novice stand-up runs nervously through her set in front of a mirror; a stressed-out high-flier tries to queue-jump even if her job doesn’t seem that demanding; a rebellious young actress rails angrily against her well-meaning middle-class mother; or a young girl talks excitedly about her friend’s rape as if it was just another hilarious anecdote.

These are unusual angles with imaginative scripts and very, very well-performed across the board. But no sketch can be quite as hilarious as the unsuspecting passer-by who genuinely popped in to use the facilities, only to be met by a dozen expectant faces staring at her.

Yes, the toilet setting can be seen as a gimmick, but it’s one the Umbrella Birds have exploited brilliantly, so it never seems contrived. They are all great actresses and the inventiveness shines through. Their future careers are most definitely not down the toilet.

16 August 2007

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

Metro

This is the kind of show you dream of finding on the Fringe – a strange and wonderful little gem that feels utterly fully formed.

A homage to silent cinema combined with a shivery gothic aesthetic, it's a series of diabolical fairy stories – delivered by an impeccably poised female duo with eerily fixed stares and a pianist – in which someone invariably meets a sticky end.

Think Shockheaded Peter with Martyn Jacques' falsetto replaced by cut-glass accents, and with fabulously inventive animation and film footage instead of puppets, and you're halfway there.

A pastry chef is slaughtered by an escaped set of gingerbread men on the rampage; a respectable suburban town is horrified when the housewives get the clap.

In the best tale, twin girls go in search of a playmate following the mysterious death of their lodger. Their parents, who died in the wishing well, are buried in the family cemetery in the back bedroom. Surely, only the very foolhardy would dare follow them into the woods to play...

This super show from theatre company 1927 combines technical virtuosity with a pitch-perfect attention to detail. It may well be too enslaved to the motifs and ambience of its chosen genre but it maps out its territory so beautifully, you can't fail to be seduced.

Until Aug 26 (not 23), Underbelly (V61), 8.15pm. www.underbelly.co.uk

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

The Scotsman

SALLY J STOTT

UNDERBELLY (VENUE 61)

NINETEEN-twenties theatrical cabaret meets dark, surrealist humour in this effortless blend of animation and live action clowning. From the moment you step into the theatre, you are transported into a different era - one where the glamour of the silver screen prevails and there is always time for a cup of tea and a gingerbread man between musical sets.

Childhood games are intermixed with times gone by, as real life merges with fiction and film. The main achievement of theatre company 1927's theatrical extravaganza is the effortless way the two lovely performers (Suzanne Andrade and Esme Appleton) are absorbed into brilliantly conceived animation sequences (created by award-winning animator Paul Bill Barritt).

Barritt's visual imagination is a great accompaniment to writer/ performer Andrade's lyrically poetic script. It's great to see a play where live performance effortlessly merges with pre-recorded film - something that many companies attempt, but fail to pull off. Here, it's not only very well done, but creates striking and memorable images and ideas, as well as some great moments of physical humour.

A variety of vignettes form the basis for a story which doesn't really have a plot, just lots of recurring themes, in particular - somewhat bizarrely - the devil and the sea. The lack of a story might be problematic in something less well done, but here the pure spectacle of it all, along with Andrade and Barritt's unified vision, well and truly carry the audience along.

Among all the characters we get to know, two sinister sisters are the most striking. With all the RP accents, pale blue dresses and painted white faces, they have the dark appeal of a Stephen King horror film. When they choose a "new friend" from the audience to take the place of their dead grandmother, it is difficult to know whether they want to play with him or bury him in the woods.

This isn't a play that is concerned with any profound meanings, but it is a wonderfully surreal step outside everyday life.

Until 26 August. Today at 8.15pm

M3

The Scotsman

This cute Chaplinesque mime piece takes place inside a box one metre cubed - hence the name of the show.

Forced to economise by astronomical city rents, a man moves into a tiny space, full of optimism that he can make the tiny box a cosy home.

He gets his furniture from IKEA, positions his pot plant, does the housework and manages to throw a party. But the annoyances of modern life begin to wear him down.

Telephone answering services, commuting and noise from the neighbours all begin to chip away at his well-being. And, when he gets himself a television, the horrors of wars, conflict and global terror begin to invade his cosy world.

Spanish performer Fernando Sanchez-Cabeduzo tells his story with precision and humour, using only a minimum of words, all spoken by voices off or projected onto his set. The use of multimedia images and films is ingenious and gives an unexpected extra dimension to the art of the mime.

This is an endearing and quirky little gem with unexpected depth.

On Wonderland

British Theatre Guide

Kandinsky have built a big reputation on the back of Al Smith's monologues. They now demonstrate that they are not just a one-trick pony with another pacy solo show, this time penned by Gavin O'Carroll.

Moia has led an eventful life, growing up in Northern Ireland with Alice in Wonderland Syndrome, an illness that affects her ability to trust what she sees. Although the Troubles do not get a mention, she has enough of her own during those important formative years.

Her lovely father begins to have difficulties that lead to his departure from the house, when his daughter is only five. His wife's issue was his love for another man but within a week of moving out, he is dead.

That is dramatic but the most gripping moments of this 50 minute monologue come as Kerry-Jayne Wilson, narrating like a runaway train, relates the story of how a girl who didn't drink began to do so in a club. The description of what happened next is almost literally stunning.

A move to Camden and a job begin to firm up Moia's life and all ends happily after a trip to Spain where she meets lovely Jack.

This is powerful story telling, well performed under the direction of James Yeatman and grabs the viewer's attention throughout.

Philip Fisher

One-Man Star Wars Trilogy

British Theatre Guide

In his one-man rendition of all three star wars films, performer Charkes Ross relies on his audience to have a solid knowledge of all three films, providing his interpretation of the three films without giving audience members who don't know the three original Star Wars films off by heart any hint as to what's actually going on.

Saying that, while I'm sure I missed a few references over the course of the show, on the whole this was a hugely impressive performance which combined physical theatre with popular culture. Ross' injection of a few lines of tongue-in-cheek humour from the perspective of an audience which has now seen the prequel trilogy was also fun.

Don't expect a lot of commentary; this is a purist look at the original trilogy, boiled down into bite-sized lumps.

Rachel Lynn Brody

Painkillers

Three Weeks

Laura Ford's performance as convicted killer Angela enthralls in this delicately constructed piece of multi-media theatre. The imagery is inventive, at times haunting, and quite crucially, never over-done. The projected impressionistic paintings and Angela's over-laid internal monologue are cleverly placed - their crackly, flaky presentation and disorientated style reflecting both Angela's own private mental instability and the theme of corruptive media portrayals. The script is original, poignant and quick-witted, and the production copes admirably with the difficult themes of violence and sexual abuse, quietly at first before reaching a climactic end. Preferring suggestion to explanation, this play revels in the confusions of its own creation with constantly shifting power dynamics and interlocking threads. A moving picture of vulnerability from every angle.

Underbelly, 2 - 26 Aug (not 13), 3:20pm (4:20pm), prices vary, fpp 213.

Patrick Monahan - Feel The Love

Three Weeks

Half Iranian, half Irish and self-proclaimed Geordie, Patrick Monahan's heritage has set him up with enough stand-up material to last a lifetime. Stories involving his extended family produce some hearty laughs, as does a skit based around the failed Glasgow Airport bombing, despite the fact that every other comedian out there has included it in their repertoire. Moreover, with an audience including very young children, Monahan's battle to keep both the material kid-friendly and entertaining for the adults results in some pretty hilarious moments, not to mention highlighting his ability to produce new material in a matter of minutes. The show isn't perfect yet, but Monahan seems to be improving tenfold, and his infectious energy and charisma are hard to resist.

Underbelly, 2 - 26 Aug (not 15), 7:20pm (8:20pm), prices vary, fpp 82.

Pete Firman - Hokum

Fest

Let's get one thing straight; Pete Firman isn't just some smart-alec comedian with a knack for one-liners. He's also a magician, and a damn good one at that. Described as Britain's leading conjuror, Firman is already well known as the face of C4's Dirty Tricks, and for being one of the few men who have attempted both comedy and magic in the same show and not witnessed their audience flocking for the exits.

Firman is far too good for that. His tricks are all his own takes on classic illusions, all of which are enthralling to watch, but it's his charming persona and ability to poke fun at not only himself but at some of magic's sillier pretensions that make him something out of the ordinary. Firman follows the classic Tommy Cooper approach to magic; he sometimes appears to get the trick horribly wrong, but is actually preparing you for an even more impressive stunt when you least expect it.

Firman has taken the best of classic end-of-pier entertainment, given it his own twist and made it something that a 21st century audience can love and enjoy. With his sharp wit and sharp suit, Firman is a million miles removed from David Blaine and the like, and proves that magic isn't something best left for kids parties and dated TV specials. Having managed to pull this show out his hat, no doubt he'll produce an even better one in the future.

Paul Foot's Comedy For Connoisseurs

The List

Innovative set for connoisseurs

Dapper, diminutive Paul Foot may not bestride his narrow stage like a Colossus, but he is on superb comedic form this year. With sharp, singular observational material and a newfound confidence in his stagecraft, the potential he showed in the past has been roundly realised. Comedy for Connoisseurs is about things that annoy him, and the paroxysms of enervation struggling to break through his fey, soft-spoken mien provide the first laughs of the night. The rest come from some inspired deconstructionist mime, a robustly surreal excursion into the micro-ecology of cakes and a surprisingly innovative (and hilarious) take on homophobia.

Foot’s delivery (a sort of gentle, delirious pedagogy), is a perfect fit for the show’s subject matter. It gives room for the audience to tumble to the more slow-burning gags, most of which are excellent. If there are a few slow spells during the hour, they are more than compensated for by frequent cerebral pay-offs. Suffused also with a subtle subtext of formidable bleakness, greatly enriching what is superficially a buoyant performance, Paul Foot’s 2007 offering is his best to date. He might be a giant yet.

Pete Firman - Hokum

Herald

Like a de-smugged Vernon Kay gifted beyond mugging for the camera, Firman is an extremely personable performer with just the right measure of cheeky bravado to complement the skill of a natural showman.

His magic is an updated variation on old favourites, adding just enough spin to freshen up the familiar, while the self-deprecating humour intensifies the spell.

He effortlessly connects with the audience, taking them up on stage out of their comfort zone to ensure he never leaves his. Even while inserting two giant steel pins under the skin of his arm under the nose of a mildly queasy female plucked from the front row.

Thankfully, he is more Tommy Cooper than David Copperfield - humorously hands-on, rather than big shapes and hollow gestures, particularly when executing his grand finale involving glasses of water, a tray and some eggs. The build-up routine was always going to eclipse the stunt itself.

One trademark illusion involving a mouse and a blender is not quite as impressive as the version widely seen on YouTube. The balloon body-flossing is more impressive on entrance than on exit, while his "eating a pack of lit cigarettes" routine is clearly going to be restricted to alfresco performances from now on.

Still, a debut solo Fringe show that will enhance an already impressive reputation.

The Container

The Herald

Somewhere in Europe, the rain is battering down on a speeding truck. It could be just one more HGV moving coast to coast. Inside, though, its cargo is a barely-alive quintet of would-be refugees seeking sanctuary in what they've heard is some green and pleasant land.

Cooped up like sardines and kept in the dark, the mix of Somalis, Afghanistanis, Turks and Kurds have paid good dollar to be where they are, from the middle-aged businessman to the 15-year-old girl who's already written a letter to the Queen asking for a job.

If they even get there depends on the unseen driver and his hired henchman holding them to an ever-higher ransom.

The multi-cultural mix of Clare Bayley's play would make for a volatile enough experience, even if its audience of 20 weren't witnessing the unfolding events inside a real container just off Bristo Square.

The play's set-up, of polar opposites trapped in a confined space and forced to re-evaluate their lives, is a well-worn one and staple fare of genre thrillers and disaster movies. Put in such a contemporary context made even more familiar from TV news reports, Tom Wright's production transcends novelty in an unflinching close-up of inter-personal conflicts made even more extreme by the bigger political and cultural situation.

As the five captives, performed brilliantly by a six-strong ensemble, race towards the west, full of hope in some brave new world, what's most heartbreaking of all is how much a withering indictment it is of a capitalist society that allows lives and bodies to be bought and sold in such corrupt circumstances.

Each time the container's door is opened from the outside, where the lorry's inmates will find themselves, and whether they'll even be alive at the end of it all, makes for a heart-stopping and thrilling ride.

15 August 2007

Rebecca Drysdale - One Woman in Several Pieces

Metro

'Please tell people about me because nobody knows me here,' beseeches Rebecca Drysdale at the end of her hour. It must be an odd situation for the American, who is used to standing ovations at the end of her shows in the States.

Luckily, she's worth knowing over on this side of the Atlantic, too. Her canny one-woman sketch show runs the gamut of religious, sexual, social, racial and, erm, time-travelling issues generally considered impolite at dinner parties. The premise is getting to know her through chunks of the often-clashing personality traits that comprise her whole. As a Jewish lesbian into hip hop, Transformers and sci-fi, there's a lot to get through.

Cultural differences are all part of the charm, and her side-splitting Bat Mitzvah speech and a battle between femmes and dommes in the style of Dr Seuss are brilliant. It's where she's used to shocking that Drysdale falls a bit flat.

Understandably, turning 9/11 into a kids' song doesn't have the impact in Edinburgh that it does in, say, New York. A ditty about Madeleine McCann would probably elicit the reaction to which she's more accustomed.

The Fringe used to be about taking a gamble. What Drysdale offers is singular and isn't going to be to everyone's taste. That's fine, because she's well worth a punt and switched-on comedy fans will find her top rate.

Terry Saunders - Missed Connections

Metro

Many people often scan the lonely hearts' columns for some oddly poetic gems, but Terry Saunders has found slightly more specific tragicomic reading matter.

Saunders is more interested in missed connections, the Desperately Seeking Susan-style ads that vaguely describe fleeting, barely-there encounters between strangers whose eyes met across a crowded bus.

An effortlessly funny performer, Saunders uses his show to tell a story about these strangely fascinating adverts, helped by some simple animation.

His slightly self-deprecating humour isn't so much about jokes or gags but about his ever-hopeful look at life's losers and his appreciation of their plight. What could be fey or indulgent in someone else's hands is poignant and funny in his.

Although captivating, the piece occasionally seems a little aimless but Saunders' charm and a smart ending see the show neatly rounded off. The piece is more suited to a cosy Sunday afternoon in a fire-warmed pub than the boisterous frenzy of the Fringe but, for most, it's exactly the oasis of calm that's needed.

The Witching Hour III

Hairline

An ancient armchair sits empty in a stage otherwise bare, save for some atmospheric candles. Suddenly the room goes black. The audience murmurs and giggles nervously, not sure what to expect. Then screams and laughter erupt as a single overhead light reveals a cloaked figure standing in the doorway gazing menacingly at the audience. This is Stephen Harvey, our host for the evening of spookiness and comedy.

There are ghostly tales aplenty, including an impressive enactment of a story, chosen randomly by a member of the audience. During it, Harvey proves himself to be quite the thespian. However the knowing glances, as well as the pre-recorded audience screams help take the edge off and provide the laughs. Each night also has a guest presenter, who brings their own spooky tale to share – our particular night featured Robin Ince, who had the audience cheering along with his readings from the horrifying(ly bad) “Attack of the Giant Crabs”.

This means every night has something slightly different on offer, but if you like your fringe shows to be funny with a good few chills and thrills thrown in, then The Witching Hour III should be right up your dark, haunted street.

14 August 2007

Simple Girl

Herald

Melanie Wilson doesn't know about savage love. Not yet, anyway. In the meantime she can always pretend. Which is where this touching and disarmingly frank monologue comes in.

All dressed up like some drop-dead femme fatale, she's a psychological double agent and one-gal band.

On the one hand, she moves through some free-associative fantasy noir dreamed up from sixties spy flicks that move like an express train through still mysterious European cities, where all liaisons are dangerous and clues are everywhere.

On the other, she's smaller than she looks, the only documents in her possession is her cycling proficiency test and any borders she may have crossed have been by accident and left her lost.

Developed at Battersea Arts Centre, there's a plummy kookiness to Wilson's tale of everyday self-preservation, where the movies in her head are rapidly running out of script.

Standing beneath make-believe lamplight with a vintage microphone and a mini keyboard full of samples to lean on, Wilson addresses the audience directly, only wanting to connect.

It's a witty, knowing and whip-smart turn, laced throughout with quiet need and gently captivating brilliance.

Give this girl an audience and make her a star. Black and white, but of course.

SKOLKA

Three Weeks

After successful runs in several countries, and a running youtube advertising campaign, this Russian-born play hits Edinburgh for the festival.

Skolka tells the life stories of three unfortunate Muscovites who, for reasons each their own, have decided to try their luck at becoming mail-order brides. The action takes place in a small room where the trio meet whilst filling in the application forms, and flashbacks, stories and downright lies relay the events which have brought them to this decision and the horrors they have experienced.

What strikes most about this piece is the very earthy realism that lies at the very core of it, although it shocks to the core at times, it never strays beyond what is obviously the meat of many real lives and the ugly truths of society that so often slip from the mind.

The quick-paced and dazzling storytelling is broken up with quieter moments of introspection and barrages of music and dance; with the cast turning split-second from cheerful exuberance to absolute despair and back seamlessly, all three of them wallowing in their contrasting roles and letting the personalities collide with one another to comic and tragic effect. With nary a bum note between them, they elevate the witty dialogue which manages to pull laughter and tears from every corner of the audience.

So why not five stars? I would have loved to have given this piece the accolade that it so nearly deserves, but there sadly is no final dénoument to the play, the building atmosphere seeps out with no pinning at the last hurdle and leaves the audience moved but unsatisfied.

Graeme Strachan

The Lost Thing

The Scotsman

KEEP off the grass; for indoor use only; may contain nuts. Do this; do that; don't walk there. Study hard; work hard; do what you're told. Our lives are full of rules and our children's lives are becoming more and more constrained too, the unfettered freedom we romanticise replaced by targets, exams, and carefully supervised, organised play. Whatever happened to making your own fun?

That's the cry behind Impetuous Kinship's anti-conformist fable for young people, following 2006's The Little Girl Who Was Too Fond Of Matches, a gothic fairytale about outcasts and secrets. This year's story, from a picture book by Australian author Shaun Tan, is about a more normal childhood, but reminds us that even then there are mysteries in a child's head.

Shaun is out of step with the world, going through the motions at school and only really interested in cataloguing his bottle top collection. He has one friend, the equally off-kilter Pete, who is a girl who likes to look at stars through back-to-front telescopes.

One day Shaun finds something on the beach which can only be described as a thing. When he tries to report it, no-one wants to know, so he takes the lost thing home and looks after it. The adults around him all talk in bureaucratic jargon which sounds grown up, but is actually more nonsensical than the children's fantasies.

Four actors switch roles with boundless energy in this lively physical production though, oddly, there were no children in the audience when I saw this show. This is a real shame because its message of independent thinking and accepting difference should appeal to them, even if it does come to too abrupt an end.

ANDREA MULLANEY

A History of Scotland (in 60 minutes or less)

one4review

This is not a history of tartan. There will be no Nessie, no mention of Jimmys nor Jocks and, rather thankfully, the skirl of the bagpipe is banished. If you’re into that particular vision of Scotland then you’d be best served by a walk down the Royal Mile. Instead the three talented performers of this show want to focus on the gritty history of Scotland – the kings and queens, the bloody battles that have been won or lost and the legacy of some of our greatest inventors. It might sound like a history lesson but remember that this is an early morning show primarily aimed at children. As such it exists as an interactive entertainment piece and at this it excels.

A mix of music, comedy and history lesson, A History of Scotland is a pleasure to watch. Performed with gusto its main thrust is obviously history but on many occasions the three actors divert from the task in hand to play up the wonderful comic dynamic that exists between them.

The musical numbers are quirky and fun, ranging from a run through of the Scottish Monarchy to the Highland Clearance Blues. They’re also varied enough to not become nauseatingly repetitive – a trap that many children’s shows can fall into. The audience interaction keeps the children involved in the history and the comic routines are as much for the adults as for the younger members of the audience. An all-round fun family show.

Alistair Barrie - Obviously

Three Weeks

According to Alistair Barrie, you can get the experience of putting on a show at the Fringe simply by "standing in the shower, ripping up tenners". I, for one, was glad that he'd ditched the loofah and made the effort. This is a show that began well and only got better, and funnier, with Barrie's loose framework of 'pillars of obviousness' prompting a wide range of comic observations. It was the more personal jokes that really stood out -I couldn't even begin to describe how hilarious the monologue about his sex life was. Refreshingly, Barrie seemed perfectly at ease with a typical Tuesday-sized crowd - though once last night's audience have told their friends about this show, he'll be just as good in front of a packed house too, I'm sure.

Political Animal

Fest

This stand-up showcase, which forces its frequently top-notch comedians out of their comfort zones to talk for fifteen minutes on political topics, is still one of the best and most original around. Andy Zaltzman is the perfect host, genial and genuinely enthusiastic about the rest of the bill. His cerebral, surreal, effortlessly topical material introduces a show that’s often extremely intelligent for its late-night time-slot.

Audience interaction at these gigs can take a strange form, with the comics being fed quite serious political subjects that they then have to run with. The best moment of tonight’s show is Marcus Brigstocke’s minor set-to with an American audience member, who politely suggests that there’s not much you can say to definitively characterise a country of 300 million people. “Well, thank you and it’s a very good point,” says Brigstocke, “but if I can’t generalise at a stand-up gig…”

That said, Paul Sinha’s original and practically abstraction-free set also goes down a treat. His fresh and subtle takes on religious dogmatism and the difficulties of living ethically are new to most of the crowd, but warmly appreciated nonetheless, demonstrating what an effective showcase this can be for intelligent comedy. The only unsuccessful performance is by John Gordillo, who, new to Political Animal, seems frankly bewildered by the experience, rendering his very decent material a bit flat in delivery. You take your chances at this show, but, more often than not, are amply rewarded.

Political Animal

British Theatre Guide

Zaltzman is an impeccable host in this late-night showcase-format political sketch show. Playing to a crowd that fancies themselves politically engaged (though their opinions seemed to run toward 'Bush Sucks!'), Zaltzman chatted pleasantly for the opening of the show, ruminating on topics with political significance as suggested by audience members.

Each of his guests did a short set illuminating their views on political issues; on the night I attended these ran toward exploring the many forms of racism. Whether it's typical for his guests to follow similar threads as one another, or if this was just a happy coincidence, it worked well and exposed the audience to a couple of very, very funny people who they might not otherwise have been aware of.

The show hit a bit of a snag around midnight when the final guest was running late (literally, as we found out when Mr Reginald D Hunter finally arrived), but Zaltzman soldiered on with the crowd, filling time till his guest arrived.

While 11pm on a Friday night may not be everyone's idea of the perfect time for political debate, the non-confrontational nature of the host and guests' engagement with ideas that clearly mean a lot to them make for a good evening out . The crowd skewed toward 20-somethings, which is probably the ideal age range for this kind of humour.

One show I'd tip to see after watching the comedienne perform the first guest slot is Carry On Shappi, with Shappi Khorsandi, whose sly observations on race and class in England were both endearing and cutting.

Rachel Lynn Brody

Breaker Morant

Fest

Phil Nichol has a lot on his plate these days. Not content with his nightly stand-up performance at the Stand, and starring in Killer Joe - another comedian-driven theatre production – Nichol has now turned his hand to directing. Perhaps he hibernates for the rest of the year?

With a cast made up largely of Australian comics, Breaker Morant tells the story of the eponymous folk hero Harry "Breaker" Morant, whose historical significance is greatly under-appreciated on these isles. It was Morant's execution by British court martial during the Boer War that, in part, led to huge anti-British sentiments in Australia, culminating in a refusal to ever again accept British army justice in cases involving its soldiers or civilians.

The play is a captivating critique of realpolitik, of the sacrificing of justice for strategic gain and the hypocrisy of empire-era Britain, its brutality and manipulation carried out under the banner of Victorian honour and decency.

Nichol's direction, along with that of his counterpart Tom Dale, keeps things ticking along nicely in a well-paced production. However the highlight of the piece is Brendon Burns' performance as Peter Hancock, portraying his brash and shouty contempt for British niceties to perfection. Sammy J is also particularly strong as a young lawyer in an exceptionally strong and nuanced performance.

Sadly, there is little discussion of the war's grey areas, the audience being left to unquestioningly accept the Nurenberg – "we were only following orders" – defence.

Additionally, very little of the historical context surrounding the court martial is revealed to those ignorant of early 20th-century Australian history (ie. everyone who has passed through the Scottish state education system), particularly with regard to the aftermath of Morant's execution, which could so easily be fixed by the inclusion of a brief epilogue.

These are, however, fairly insignificant criticisms of a solid and at times gripping production of true quality - one that is worth watching for Burns' performance alone.

Ben Judge

Glenn Wool - Promises Promises

Independent

Glenn Wool has a tradition of lobbing in a the most preposterous of stories into his shows. Last year he told the tale of how a seal ruined his sister's wedding. This year, in contrast, he searches for his manhood via a number of deities, finally ending up with a package courtesy of "Dinosaur God".

The nonsensical journey is comedically rewarding and only possible because of the goodwill he has already engendered talking about his marital and alcohol problems. He captures the essence with deft lines like: "I was always a screw-up but I always had a girlfriend because I had high cheekbones."

Using the premise that he, as a Canadian, was once an outsider but now feels British, Wool goes on a journey through the attitudes of other settlers in the UK, bemoaning Aussies and the sheer ludicrousness of a St Patrick's Day parade in the middle of London.

As he says, "You're not the best country in the world, you don't deserve a parade. I had great fellatio in Denmark once and until that is marked by at least a picnic..."

Grinning like a chipmunk at times and throwing out some unexpectedly camp character voices, Wool is the epitome of cheek.

His nerve is borne out by a routine about blowing on the burnt terrorist who crashed their vehicle into Glasgow Airport, which, as he points out, is a form of torture not ruled out by the Geneva Convention.

He may sound like a stoner and look like a refugee from a 1970s porn flick but Wool is the antithesis of a spent force and there's certainly more than cloth between his ears.

Jerry Sadowitz - Comedian, Magician, Psychopath

Broadway Baby

Scotland's answer to, well just about every other magician you've ever seen, sets the tone of the show from the opening line of “Good evening, you're all a bunch of c***s”, and it pretty much heads straight downhill from there.

As he himself says, he has to do the magic stuff just to be allowed onto the stage; if he went to a venue and gave them a snippet of just the stand-up side of the act, he'd probably never work again.

The magic is top-notch - mainly card manipulation - and all clearly displayed to the large audience by an overhead camera projecting onto a huge screen over the stage, but really, that's not what we're here for. It's the invective and the spleen that's really on display here, with a dazzling hour of cheek-sucking comedy that is so far beyond 'near the knuckle'.

It's hard to understand how Jerry Sadowitz gets away with it, but he does. Brilliantly.

I think it's the gradual build up as he gets you laughing at the slightly naughty (David Blunkett), then onto proper taboo (paedophilia, rape) and before you know it he's got you wetting yourself at subjects no comics should be able to touch on a stage (the missing girl Madeline McCann and her parents).

You are never, ever going to see this full-on side of Sadowitz on the telly, so take this chance to catch him while you can. Not only does he manipulate 52 cards effortlessly, but the true magic of the show is how he manipulates his audience into suspending their natural reaction to this level of shock comedy. Lesser men would be left hanging from the rafters at the hands of a lynch mob if they came out with half of the material that Jerry gives us.

Not for the easily offended. Not for the slightly-hard to offend. Not even for the downright difficult to offend, if you like shock comedy and can leave your sense of offence at home, then this is one of your must-see shows at this year's Fringe.

Stewart Lee - 41st Best Stand-Up Ever!

Fest

Throughout this hour-long set, Mr. Lee barely breaks a sweat. Not because he’s coasting or re-treading well-worn turf, but because his manner is all about cool delivery: the wry one liner, the well placed...pause. Lee is a master of the form, and while the biggest laugh of the night might come from his use of a four letter word to describe Richard Littlejohn, this is nonetheless comedy at its most intelligent.

Lee is not afraid of dealing with sensitive issues like race and religion. They are conjured and discussed with such deft precision that the audience are never in doubt of his impeccable liberal credentials ('I wouldn't want anyone thinking I'm racist' he says, 'that's Al Murray's job'). He has the knack to stretch a joke to breaking point; his opening tirade (too strong a term, perhaps, for a performer so painfully laconic) against 80's comedian Tom O'Connor is a masterclass in audience bating.

Repetition for repetition's sake would be agony – this is repetition elevated to art form. Scathing, unabashed and profoundly self-deprecating, Lee is a performer whose material so often transcends the mark that his lack of astronomical fame is unbelievable. His deadpan demeanour may be as much a pose as the tired lad-isms of Russell Brand et al., but his style is so far beyond his rivals that it almost seems a quibble.

Tell

Three Weeks

The human memory is a fickle thing. 'Tell' explores the transience of memory through the bittersweet tales of two lonely people, both in the aftermath of broken down relationships. The story is told through the use of inanimate objects and the memory attached to them, as it illustrates how an object can be a barrier, or even an irritant, to the psyche. This melancholy plot does contain a few light moments, with some physical comedy from the mute female character. But it is the sterling performance from Christian Olliver, as 'teller one', that makes this show - one has to admire his memory as he narrates the entire play with hardly a pause for breath. An excellent first production from this company, remember to see it.

Psychic Detective (and those disappeared)

Fest

The Psychic Detective (and those disappeared) is set in one of the strangest venues of this years’ Fringe. The audience are led inside the back of a theatre truck where they are transported instantly into the peculiar and unnerving world of film noir.

Here, private eye Patrick Bett is attacked and left drowning in the docks while attempting to find a lost girl. Stranded between life and death, Bett is guided by two angels into his subconscious where he must solve a crime in order to live.

Peculiar as a film noir in the back of an industrial trailer sounds, the concept works remarkably well. The intimate venue, which seats only 20 people, makes certain that this is experimental and visual theatre at its best; encircled by theatrical tricks and multi-media illusions, the audience is unable to escape the action.

Not that one would want to either. The play glides along in a delightful dream-like fashion, as the audience witnesses the action voyeuristically through the blinds of a window. The dramatic patterning and shadows hide parts of the actors’ faces, leaving the audience desperate for more action that will shed light on the events unfolding on stage.

In the play one of the angels notes that Bett has "entered dreaming," telling the audience that "we’re going to have to follow him." Take this advice and pursue Bett into the depths of his psyche by going to see The Psychic Detective.

13 August 2007

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

Three Weeks

If the Addams Family did theatre, this would be it. Set in a 1920's movie theatre, complete with piano and projection screen, this theatrical cabaret uses a mix of live action, film and music to tell a variety of stories. None should ever be repeated to a small child as a soothing bedtime tale, but the adult audience loved the dark, knowing humour which drove them. From the freaky sisters whose parents died in a wishing-well 'accident' to the nine deaths of Chou Chou le Chat, the macabre nature of this show is clearly a winner, as is its stylish and flawless execution. You will want to stay in this sepia-toned world for far longer than a mere hour.

Coat

Three Weeks

'Coat' exemplifies Fringe theatre at its best; it's fresh, intelligent and enjoyable. It's also about love. Quick-fire opening dialogue catapults us into two stories; one set in nineteenth century Russia and based on Gogol's short story 'The Overcoat', the other exploring a contemporary love story. It's wordy and witty and the three actors are impressive, throwing themselves into a series of eccentric characters. It does sacrifice stillness for pace, and I felt that there was too much shouting in the later scenes, but it's still great storytelling. A minimal set, along with slick costume and scene changes make this a portable production - these actors could throw on their coats and take this show anywhere. Personally, I hope they do, they have a great future.

Dearly Deported

Three Weeks

Detention without trial, deportation without charges - these are things you think will never happen to you. This is the theme of this fresh and witty reworking of Kafka's 'The Trial'. Whilst making sharp political comment, its style - reminiscent of a coming-of-age tale - ensures the play doesn't take itself too seriously. Stylised visuals and astute lighting effectively set the scene, using a sparse stage and small cast. The use of surreal montages, a narrator and an originally composed soundtrack pay homage to Kafka's style, while the believable script and strong performances of the central characters hold it back from the bizarre. An intelligent and well-performed piece that, though abstract in its production and philosophy, makes the civil liberties debate quite real.

The Swingers

one4review

Mike and Vanessa have been together for sometime. A certain staleness has grown within their relationship and Mike, Barry Castagnola, is keen to spice up their sex lives with dressing up games . blue movies, and dogging etc. Vanessa, Martha Howe-Douglas, is less keen, but reluctantly goes along with Mike.

None are an astounding success, so via an internet site they get tentatively involved in the world of swinging, but will give them the lift they need?

The inventive use of video footage, combined with the talents of the two actors, a good script and tight direction make this a very funny and enjoyable late afternoon romp.

Paul Foot's Comedy For Connoisseurs

one4review

The joy of Paul Foot’s comedy is his ability to take the most ordinary of common expressions and run with them, exploring all kinds of humorous possibilities and inconsistencies. Particularly enjoyable is his treatment of moist cakes, the car sign ‘Baby on Board’ and, in the case of the living room, shouldn’t it be called the dying room?

Sharing all of these concerns is, as he explains, a warm up for what turns out to be a hilarious mime impression with a spoken commentary. This would appear to be a contradiction but, when it is of a person with many medical ailments attending an Antiques Roadshow valuation with a vase, mime alone could not convey all that is happening. All the audience become involved in the fun assisting with the mime.

Paul Foot’s timing is spot on, his material imaginative, and he has the audience with him all the way from start to finish.

Martha McBrier - So You Think You're A Good Heckle

Metro

Some comics learn a craft; others are exploiting a gift. Martha McBrier falls firmly into the latter camp. She's the Scottish barmaid of heterosexual men's dreams: a sexy blonde who'll put you in your place as soon as she looks at you, which of course only makes blokes want to cause trouble.

This fits nicely into the show's premise. The audience are writing this show, she explains, as she tells jokes, eliciting votes as to whether they're good enough to be included. It's a canny conceit that allows McBrier to showcase her gag-writing skills, show-off her fast wit with rabble-rousers and blame it on the crowd if it all goes wrong.

McBrier's handling of hecklers falls under the category 'bloody impressive'. So, it's a shame that the laziest gag in the set is her works-every-time put-down. So half-arsed in fact, that there's no guilt in revealing it: 'I shagged your ma.' Thankfully, it doesn't distract from the fact that McBrier is a formidable stand-up worthy of attention.

Reginald D Hunter - F**k You In The Age of Consequ

The Times

Reginald D. Hunter is always a Fringe highlight, but this may be the most enjoyable show he’s ever done.

In F**k You in the Age of Consequence, the 38-year-old bungs in his usual mix of provocative ideas – why we should let Michael Jackson do whatever he wants; why Bill Clinton should have had anal sex with Monica Lewinsky – against the backdrop of his Southern upbringing. But this year it’s also in the context of being a man – of learning how to handle himself.

Hunter looks at dealing with the consequences of his actions. About, for instance, calling his last show Pride and Prejudice and Niggas, just because it made him laugh. No problem in Edinburgh. Controversy in London. Empty seats on tour: “Them was the consequences.” The real trouble with Hunter’s teasing titles is that they lead newcomers to expect arbitrary shock tactics instead of a masterful, playful comic looking for how to be genuine. And this year he is more accessible than ever. The material is still knotty, but Hunter is breezy like never before.

The show needs another ingredient, perhaps a different ending, to help seal it in the memory. Even so, Hunter gets more ideas into his 50 minutes than some comics manage in a career.

Stewart Lee - 41st Best Stand-Up Ever!

Metro

Stewart Lee is feeling chatty. It's notable that Lee, famous for his deadpan, languid delivery, is smiling much more these days. That may have something to do with him being a new father, or, perhaps he's feeling more comfortable in his clown shoes, having been placed at No. 41 in Channel 4's 100 Greatest Comedians Of All Time poll.

Despite a relentless mocking of the ridiculousness of lists like this, Lee has chosen to embrace it as fact, while at the same time putting a gentle two fingers up to his quilt-loving mum who prefers cruise ship gag merchants.

He uses the conceit to question approval, why it matters and from whom we should seek it.

Lee's obviously sore that he was commissioned by BBC 2 out of nowhere, only to be dropped equally out of the blue, but any bitterness is so deftly delivered that he never endangers his top bloke persona.

No one matches Lee's powers of comic deconstruction and the only thing that stops him getting five stars is that 90s Comedian from 2005 was better.

12 August 2007

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

The Guardian

Now this is what Edinburgh should be all about: a devilishly good piece of work from a young company you had never heard of before. The company 1927's theatrical cabaret may be all conceit, but it is executed with such breathtaking wit and aplomb that you cannot help falling for its witty, sinister charms. Drawing upon the techniques of silent cinema, the show combines live action and film with imaginative flair like that of Forkbeard Fantasy; it comes from the same weirdly twisted dungeons of the mind as classics such as The Vinegar Works and Shockheaded Peter.

Essentially this is a series of vignettes delivered with piano accompaniment. The Nine Deaths of Choo Choo Le Chat is a comic meditation on the surprising nature of death, while the Biscuit Tin Revolution is about revolting gingerbread men who rise up against the pastry chef and rape and pillage so that the streets run red with raspberry jam. Everything about this show is just so, from the precision of the writing to the exquisitely animated design and the delivery. Despite the show's disturbed mindset, there is nothing off-kilter about its staging.

My favourite segments feature two little pinafore-clad girls, sinister sisters whose blank faces recall the Midwich Cuckoos and whose parents, who came to an unfortunate end in a wishing-well accident, are buried in the family cemetery in the back bedroom. Things do not bode well for the lodger, or indeed granny, who in a superb piece of audience participation is lured to play with the girls in the wood. I doubt you will see anything this deliciously nasty all year.

Hamell On Trial - The Terrorism (Of Everyday Life)

Scotland on Sunday

One-man show Hamell On Trial also uses rock'n'roll to tell a tale. In this case, the life story of Ed Hamell, a man who has done it all so that we don't have to.

A punk rock raconteur, Hamell rips the heart out of US consumerism by trolling through the degenerate underbelly which is its flipside. Street-wise, packed with great one-liners and righteous in its fury, this is surely the only show in town to feature a gag about making a homophobe smoke the ashes of an Aids victim.

Hamell On Trial - The Terrorism (Of Everyday Life)

Fest

Hammell on Trial isn't your run-of-the-mill comedy show, but then Ed Hammel isn't your conventional comedian. He's a punk-rocker, an anarchist, a proponent of recreational drug use and a savage critic of today's monolithic culture all rolled into one. He's also as funny a man as you'll see anywhere in Edinburgh this month. Already a cult hero in the US, Hammell was once just an angry musician, but his 2007 act has been transformed to include not only his trademark punk-folk ditties but stand-up and satire as well.

His humour ranges from the downright silly to the fiendishly dark, stopping at all bases in between. There are songs about pussy and stories about crack cocaine and cat litter, all unleashed at frantic pace upon an audience that doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.

If you're a shy, retiring type, do not go to see this show. Judging by their stunned, twisted faces, some of today's audience will probably never risk going to see a comedian again. Hammell's razor-sharp wit and brutal honesty will cut too close to the bone for some people. If however you're a more laid-back kind of character, and tales about kids in church choirs taking mescalin sounds like the sort of thing you might have a chuckle at, go see Hammell on Trial today. As the man himself would say, it's better than crack.

Hamell On Trial - The Terrorism (Of Everyday Life)

Metro

What should you do when your son asks if you've ever done anything illegal? Easy if your name is Ed Hamell.

'I'm gonna lie! I'm gonna lie!' he foams on Inquiring Minds, the opening track on his recent album, Songs For Parents Who Enjoy Drugs.

Billed as comedy, Hamell's Edinburgh debut is more a one-man DIY odyssey through his decade-spanning back catalogue, unapologetically righteous world view and his life experiences.

Indeed, if Bill Hicks had ever tried his hand at bile-fuelled blues-punk, it might not have sounded too far removed from Halfway, a fretboard-leaping, self-deprecating rant against mediocrity.

By all accounts, however, Hicks never tended a crack bar in upstate New York, a stint during which Hamell most likely honed his deftness for speaking his mind while keeping the crowd onside. This is a man who could deal with a brawl.

Not that he has to here; a veteran of 250 shows a year, Hamell is a consummate performer who can salaciously slaver a ridiculous ode to cunnilingus before recounting the double death of his parents, all the while keeping the audience so enthralled they don't notice the gear shift.

Ian Stone: Healthy Disrespect

The List

A slice of healthy disrespect A regular on the national comedy circuit, Ian Stone’s usual 9.05pm crowd are more likely to consist of chattering stag dos and leery hen parties. But the skills he has shaped to deal with such baying crowds make putty of a gently merry, receptive Edinburgh audience. For some circuit acts it’s easy for there to be no real substance to the crowd-pleasing material but Stone has never been one of those. Firstly poking fun at his Jewish heritage, Stone goes on to tackle anything religious; the ‘healthy disrespect’ of his show title is spread widely. He is a tetchy man and the show catalogues various gripes of his, starting with an argument with an Israeli couple in a predominantly Jewish shopping centre in north London.

He moves on to ponder Jesus’ possible Scandinavian roots and then suggests that if men can’t control themselves around Muslim women without veils then it’s their problem not the woman’s. As Stone freely acknowledged, offence may be caused for those of a sensitive disposition, but as grumpy as Stone is, it simply isn’t intended. It’s clear to see that his material is written with wit and intelligence, and performed with a cheeky smile and a healthy dollop of self-deprecation. (Marissa Burgess)

This Piece of Earth

Three Weeks

This is a love story without any romance - and that makes it all the more beautiful. John and Maebh are making an agonising journey to the emigration ship, knowing that the alternative is to perish in famine-stricken Ireland. It is a triumph of Richard Dormer's script that he has humanised these 'victim' characters so vividly that the hope of their past lives is as real to us as the desolation of their present moment. Two incredible performances allow us a glimpse of what it is like to endure the unendurable. In these circumstances, love is sadly not all you need, but it has the power to dignify even the most pathetic, pitiful figures, providing an intense but mesmerising fifty minutes.

Niamh de Valera

Mantra

Three Weeks

I approached this show with no expectations. I hadn't heard any mention of it and the Fringe programme entry was impressively vague. Such is the beauty of this Festival, because out of nowhere I was treated to a stunning performance and a gut-wrenching story. Here was Jen, describing the single worst event in her life, which poisoned her marriage, left her previously happy life dishevelled, and herself alone, confused and guilt-ridden. It is extremely difficult for a single actor to hold your attention for a sustained length of time, but the compelling and nuanced performance given by Katy Wix in her one-woman show suggests otherwise. I recommend you see this fine actor before you have to pay vast sums for the privilege.

Martha McBrier - So You Think You're A Good Heckle

Chortle

From the moment the boisterous group of South Africans took every seat on the front row, I had a bad feeling about this late-night gig. Intimidatingly huge men were acting with the childlike over-excitement – possibly beer-induced - of people who had never been to a comedy night before, exchanging loud jokes with each other in Dutch, and generally playing up, even talking into the microphone before the show started. This, by most reckonings, would be a tough gig – but that’s what you get when your very title encourages hecklers.

But I’d reckoned without Martha McBrier. A handful of burly rugby fans would prove no match for one petite Scottish blonde.

She brought them quickly and impressively into line. She was assertive, but not bullying; put them down, but let them have their say. No one was humiliated, no one felt awkward, but within moments the show was on track. The group that had threatened to dominate the hour now just participated, the flashpoint energy nicely contained.

When it comes to working a room, McBrier is one of the best in the business. I can’t envisage any crowd she’d have any trouble with, from a rowdy comedy club to a bored TV studio audience. Whatever’s thrown at her, she rolls with the punches and incorporates it in her effortless banter.

Like a primary school headteacher she lets her charges have their fun, but there’s no doubting who’s in control, and who’s setting the agenda But very few headteachers pepper their language with quite as many expletives as she does.

This show doesn’t actually encourage heckling as such – certainly not the tedious outbursts of drunken halfwits the term usually implies. But we are encouraged to participate.

About midway through, she eases off the adlibbing and starts employing her material, although even now the interaction continues as we get to vote on each of her jokes, through the mechanic of the thumbs-up or thumbs-down, rather than premium-rate phone line.

It’s here, once she abandons that virtuoso display of crowd banter, that the show becomes less assured. Most of her jokes pass the screening process, but I think we’ve been over-generous, maybe out of fear of the crazy Scotswoman. Her prepared material is little more than a series of puns and wordplay, with decidedly dodgy results. But it doesn’t matter that much, by now we’ve all decided we’re impressed with her.

A finale makes light of the brain tumour McBrier was diagnosed with just before she came to the Fringe. She reassures us it’ll all be OK, as it’s non-malignant, and a medical procedure will remove it soon. Mind you, with her gift of the gab, she’ll probably just talk the tumour out of her head.

SKOLKA

1/2 British Theatre Guide

After successful runs in several countries, and a running youtube advertising campaign, this Russian-born play hits Edinburgh for the festival.

Skolka tells the life stories of three unfortunate Muscovites who, for reasons each their own, have decided to try their luck at becoming mail-order brides. The action takes place in a small room where the trio meet whilst filling in the application forms, and flashbacks, stories and downright lies relay the events which have brought them to this decision and the horrors they have experienced.

What strikes most about this piece is the very earthy realism that lies at the very core of it, although it shocks to the core at times, it never strays beyond what is obviously the meat of many real lives and the ugly truths of society that so often slip from the mind.

The quick-paced and dazzling storytelling is broken up with quieter moments of introspection and barrages of music and dance; with the cast turning split-second from cheerful exuberance to absolute despair and back seamlessly, all three of them wallowing in their contrasting roles and letting the personalities collide with one another to comic and tragic effect. With nary a bum note between them, they elevate the witty dialogue which manages to pull laughter and tears from every corner of the audience.

So why not five stars? I would have loved to have given this piece the accolade that it so nearly deserves, but there sadly is no final dénoument to the play, the building atmosphere seeps out with no pinning at the last hurdle and leaves the audience moved but unsatisfied.

The Swingers

one4review

Mike and Vanessa have been together for sometime. A certain staleness has grown within their relationship and Mike, Barry Castagnola, is keen to spice up their sex lives with dressing up games, blue movies, and dogging etc. Vanessa, Martha Howe-Douglas, is less keen but reluctantly goes along with Mike.

None are an astounding success, so via an internet site they get tentatively involved in the world of swinging, but will this give them the lift they need?

The inventive use of video footage, combined with the talents of the two actors, a good script and tight direction make this a very funny and enjoyable late afternoon romp.

11 August 2007

Breaker Morant

Three Weeks

Attention grabbing from the onset, 'Breaker Morant' is a finely crafted piece of theatre about an Australian hero. Set during the Boer War, Bushveld Carbineers Morant, Handcock and Witton are charged with the deaths of POWs and a minister. Reminiscent of last year's hit 'Black Watch', the production is dynamic; tension is built and then undercut with irreverent humour. The acting is wonderful, with fine performances from the leads and some impressive cameos by the rest of the company. The mouse-like Botha was particularly sympathetic, and as every witness took to the stand a beautifully drawn character emerged. It's a moving account of one man's injustice which left me pondering the maxim 'the common decency of war' from all angles.

E4 Udderbelly's Pasture, 2 - 27 Aug (not 14), 1:40pm (3:10pm), prices vary, fpp 178.

Glenn Wool - Promises Promises

Three Weeks

After reading this review, turnover this page and sign the petition to move Glenn Wool's Fringe show to a bigger venue and a later time-slot. Only then will he get the sizable, inebriated audience he so richly deserves. Many comics would pluck out their arm-pit hair to have the unique subtlety and wit that Wool owns, especially when dealing with the delicate and ever-controversial subjects of terrorism and religion. Tonight's self-conscious spectators desperately needed the aid of alcohol to cast their reservations aside, and as a result, Wool's ingenious humour went largely unrewarded. A slightly merrier mob would have almost certainly allowed the Canadian comic's prickly witticisms to slide down more easily, but for now, Wool remains a big comic fish in a relatively small pond.

Underbelly, 2 - 26 Aug (not 14), 9:40pm (10:40pm)

Tom Basden: Won't say anything

Three Weeks

Tom Basden really doesn’t need to say anything. Even as he silently moves between keyboard and guitar, while swigging from a bottle of mouthwash, he exudes impressive stage presence. But his set is anything but quiet; a combination of short unconnected songs introduced by Powerpoint and crudely drawn visual gags, keeps the audience laughing heartily throughout. His singing voice is impressive and his quirky lyrics, covering topics as diverse as Zara Phillips and werewolves, are consistently hilarious. Between songs he remains mute, while somewhat hit and miss projector-enabled jokes keep the audience entertained. Surprisingly, his lack of direct communication doesn’t leave the performance feeling vacant, but instead you come out wishing that other comedians would learn when to shut up.

Underbelly, 2 - 26 Aug (not 7, 13), 7:35pm (8:35pm),

Greedy

one4review

Having enjoyed Greedy last year, this group of four performers Rachel Egan, Louie Bayliss, Felicity Wren and James Wren, with Alan Freestone directing, were one the acts at the top of my comedy viewing list. Their sketch show this year is brilliantly funny.

It has just about everything – well crafted material, pace both fast and slow, expertly timed physical movement. Their convincing acting abilities set them apart from other sketch shows. This comes from their solid grounding in theatre.

A brief selection of characters include whistling Martin who always gets the girls, the T-Rex’s doing a nativity play, and the woman who in her mind goes from love at first sight to separation and leaving with the two children all in the space of a few minutes conversation. This gives a taste of how sexy and bizarre the sketches are.

The hilarious, dancing duellists, finale displays all their abilities. Greedy deliver mirth in abundance from start to finish and all too soon the show comes to an end.

Jim Jeffries - 30

one4review

What else anyone may say about Jim Jeffries, and much does get said, no one could ever accuse him of being pretentious. This Aussie is very much what you see is what you get, and his humour does not depend on any themes. it is like listening to a very funny guy in a pub with his mates.

Jim does not get much television work, and that is probably because his style, with no subject at all taboo and liberally littered with very strong language, would not sit to happily in that medium, but judging by the masses of people clammering for tickets for his gigs, live work is his forte.

Jim ambles on and basically tells stories relating to his family and of course himself and has the entire room in stitches throughout. Everyone was laughing, occasionally questioning perhaps if they should at times, but laughing all the same.

Jeffries is not afraid of self depreciation, with several stories and of course the finale all showing him up as the butt of the jokes.

I wondered if his show would translate to the very large space that is the Cow Barn, rather than the more intimate venues he has played, but it was just the same feeling, only enjoyed by more.

Stewart Lee - 41st Best Stand-Up Ever!

one4review

Stewart Lee maybe the 41st best comedian according to a recent Channel 4 programme, but his mother doesn’t rate him as high as Tom O’Connor, who didn’t make the list at all.

Fortunately for him though, the Fringe audience obviously rate him much higher and hence he is selling out the huge UdderBELLY purple cow on a regular basis.

Lee, for me was one of the first ‘alternative’ comedians on the scene and still remains one of the best. He is not in your face, he doesn’t rant and rave, he just gets on with the job in hand, that of entertaining several hundred punters for an hour or more.

His material is wide, varied and at times slightly unconventional, it’s the quickest I’ve ever seen a ‘call-back’ used in a set, but Celebrity Big Brother, political correctness, weight watchers, Channel 4, and cruise entertainment are all topics that come under his microscope.

He went through a quiet time prior to his involvement in the controversial Jerry Springer The Opera, but hopefully for us all he will be around for along time and eventually may even convince his mother that he is a comic of standing.

Something Blue

one4review

Yngvild Aspeli, Claire Couche, Kate Edwards, Emily Kreider and Eliza Willis are the five strong cast of Jammy Voo Theatre and they present a very interesting and different sketch show in the early afternoon.

The five ladies share the work load from the onset, with them wandering around the space dispensing Loveheart sweets, handing out flirty notes and asking foe chat up lines that work.

Love and seduction techniques seem to theme throughout the show and with such talented performers and excellent material, the show all too soon for everyone commences it's finale. Like all good shows the best is left to last, and for me the finale was work the ticket price alone.

Woody Sez

one4review

This is the most moving celebration of the life of Woody Guthrie, the man and his music. Narrating and singing the songs of Woody Guthrie, David Lutken is outstanding. He is ably supported and accompanied on a variety of instruments, including spoons, by Darcie Deauville, Helen Russell and Andy Teirstein.

Born and raised in Oklahoma, Woody Guthrie was a huge influence in the development of 20th Century American music. This show succeeds in portraying the character of the man and the times he lived through. Tragedy and disappointment were part of his childhood and early adult years – death of loved ones, the Great Depression and the Dust Bowl. Nevertheless, throughout his career, he never lost the spirit to perform and champion the oppressed even if it upset the establishment. Although his songs deal with serious issues, they convey humour and a sense of hope.

The four performers pay a fitting musical tribute and their performance of ‘This land is your land’ is a joy.

Early Edition

Hairline

Even on a cold and wet morning Marcus Brigstocke and André Vincent cheers everyone up with their satirical take on the morning papers. The show hopes to be different every day, and the panel sits at a long table and encourages audience’s questions and comments on matters of the world.

As the guests change depending on the day, this show is very much pot luck regarding how’s it going to go, but today’s guests are deadpan Carrie Quinlan who polishes off five pastries during the show, and Robin Ince, whose biting comments grows sharper as the panel warms up. Brigstocke immediately asks for the audience lights to be raised which gives an informal feel to the banter. Topics range from the outbreak of foot-and-mouth disease to skunk-seeking aliens and astrology, with Brigstocke’s usual ‘socialist’ satire giving a political edge. As he is the driving force of the show, he opens discussions on the day’s stories and invites other panel members to contribute, which leads to Vincent frequently making himself laugh and the audience in need of asking questions.

The overall vibe is relaxed and the closing laughs are generated by a joke from the audience itself, which demonstrates how these two guys don’t take themselves too serious, and are up for a laugh like anybody else. If you like the Now Show or the News Quiz this is a must-see. Not recommended for the hungry, but otherwise it’s a very uplifting start to a day at the Fringe.

Toulson & Harvey

Hairline

The Perrier award nominees Toulson and Harvey return once again to the Fringe bringing their unique form of humour. With such an anarchic energy, it makes it hard to describe what the show is about, as the two comedians spend their 45 minutes act embodying a host of random characters ranging from Spanish brothers, a drunken singer and his guitarist on the Wembley scene, or even odder characters from CSI : Jerusalem, to Gordon Brown or (the public's favourite) a competition of Scottish impersonators. However, the two actors manage to somehow find a balance between losing the audience in a disorganised structure, while offering disconnected scenes to show off the protagonists' talent.

For these two guys are very talented, not only excellent comics but even better actors, who make you forget you're sitting in a small room, right in front of a small stage. They are both conscious (and at times even self-conscious with nervous laughter at their own improvisation) of what they are doing, and although the comedy is composed of various interpretations of th