Cindy Marcolina - Page 8

Every member of the company brings their best to create an all-around remarkable performance. From the little kids to the older performers, it’s exciting to see what can be done when resources are used to include the community in a large-scale project like this. It’s encouraging to realise that, sometimes, the taxpayers are funding ventures that truly matter.

Ultimately, it’s one of those shows that matter in an ephemeral way. It’s a wonderful showcase of what the Bush are doing to secure the future of theatre, but the play itself could be better. Scenes could be tightened and made less about trying to display the young talent and more about the story itself. But, in this case, it does the job.

It’s a musical of profound emotional intelligence and accuracy. Informed and thought-provoking, it encourages reflection and promotes a healthy dialogue on the matter. It’s a touching, life-size picture of a family who can’t overcome their pain. Too many productions are haphazardly labelled as “a must-see” these days, but this is the real deal.

It’s definitely not your regular staged concert. While there isn’t as much character exploration in this instance, the fact-driven numbers are enough to give a morsel of what a complete production could do.

Exceptionally convivial and inclusive, the performances are relaxed and explained ahead by Brigitte herself. It’s loud, and dark, and blindingly bright. But earplugs are provided and leaving or taking a break are completely appropriate reactions. Audiences are encouraged to be understanding.

Italian performer Greta Zamparini takes extracts from Concita De Gregorio and creates a complex solo show about the commodification of the female body. A series of women open up and explain why they do what they do. From a high-end escort to a trafficked woman who’s finally back home, Temporarily Yours provides a very wise and rational take to the subject with an eloquent script that keeps crossing the lines of empowerment and exploitation.

Innumerable sounds of all kinds create a 360-degree retro journey to the future. While the blindfold doesn’t completely plunge the individual into the darkness, it evokes an air of mystery and immerses them in a world of weird delivery methods and pyramidal children. It’s an engrossing adventure that showcases a remarkable use of sound design.

Though it comes off as the only reason for the play to exist, the campaign remains an important subject. Cotter weaves religious homophobia and bereavement into this story of sudden homelessness and penance. It would make it an exciting, multi-faceted project to program, but it still has a long way to go.

What ties down the project is the one-woman aspect of it. Wilkinson Wright is a tremendous actress, but this direction gives her a staged personality disorder. The framing of the play throws it straight into the action; the performer modulates her voice to shape the different women, but the result is messy and unconvincing, especially if one isn’t familiar with this part of history. It’s not exactly the most streamlined solo show at the Fringe, but it’s among the most compelling subjects for sure.

Directed by Elizabeth Kaye Sortun, while it offers a look at the complexities of toxic dynamics, coercion, consent, and control, it doesn’t truly achieve its goal. Verlo’s past is colourful and intriguing, but this isn’t the production that makes it shine. It lacks the aplomb that inspires reflection and change, settling on underwhelming attempts at cheap laughs.

Lily Wolff directs with gorgeous brushstrokes. Smooth, creative changes of pace come with gradual shifts in the lighting and sound designs, revealing Mary’s interiority and explaining her history. Leeanne Hutchinson’s First Lady is a complex, hurt mother who can’t seem to overcome the pain in her life. She’s matched in performance by Christopher Kelly, who plays Brady as well as a collection of his peculiar subjects. There’s a tense chemistry between them. The minimalism of the visuals engages the imagination of the audience, putting the actors on a blank canvas.

It’s a tale of resilience, resentment, and regret told with instinctive storytelling and a dash of friendly advice. Photos of her relatives and snapshots of her life accompany her narrative, giving a visual reference to her stories. It’s a delicate, lovely play from a woman whose strength could never be ignored.

Captivating writing is matched by a tireless performance that transports you in time with a complex breakdown of drug abuse. He admits that he makes it sound too good for comfort: the chemsex, the dissociation from his problems, the unbridled fun of it. On the opposite side, he places the drug-induced psychosis that landed him in a psych ward, his erratic behaviour, and the continuous benders that followed. There isn’t any preachiness or superiority in his delivery. Breaking the Castle introduces a humble, charismatic performer whose lived experience makes him an emotionally intelligent and profound man.

With light and breezy writing, Jorgensen delivers an accurate analysis of what it feels like to try to find a partner in the 21st Century in 35 delightful minutes of Regency fun. It’s a quick glimpse into the horror of modern romance.

My Father’s Nose is a surprisingly heartwarming show about death and moving on. Douglas Walker’s comedy is shaped with hilarious non-humour and eccentric irony. His sorrow is mirrored by the stranger’s sympathy in a well-rounded journey into irrational fears and comical anecdotes. Walker offers a poetic view of life and dementia, comparing Alzheimer’s disease to a locked cupboard in an astonishing image. Everything is in there, his dad just can’t open it.

All in all, it’s not a great play, but it’s also not a particularly bad one either. It’s tentatively poetic but commonplace, with a dash of humdrum personal reflection in the mix. Jealousy, love, pain, bereavement, it’s a to-do list of life.

What seems like a silly little comedy about millennial dread at first becomes a pointedly anti-Tory invective in Louis Rembges’s Chatham House Rules. It’s a production for the chronically online, anti-Brexit internet addicts, and those who simply want to have a laugh before they’re thrown into a vortex of political revenge. The zillennial experience is summed up with funny videos that ease its constant doom. Full of viral references and deliciously cynical, the monologue deftly handles poetic interiority and iconic dark humour.

Box Tale Soup adapt MR James’s ghost story into a play that has the same dark feel of a Penny Dreadful episode. Elegantly directed by Adam Lenson and featuring impressive puppetry and stage tricks, it’s a production of outstanding craft and storytelling.

Zach Hawkins is incredible with Ryan’s exuberant resignation. He waltzes through the flowing stream of consciousness with ease, handling the final shift in tone with depth and reflection.

Funny and distinctively Beckettian, Deuteronomy is about everything and nothing. The two men tackle the meaning of life, eternal damnation, and heavenly salvation the same way they discuss the differences between apples and peaches.