Cindy Marcolina - Page 9

An audience of two steps into a small black box. They’re separated by a wall and can only hear each other through headphones when they talk into a microphone. Without Sin is an intriguing project that tugs at our contemporary need to feel.

There’s loads of theatre at the Fringe. Some is excellent, some is average, some is… questionable. Polish company Song of the Goat present a retelling of Shakeseare’s Titus Andronicus in what could simply be described as a gothic, choral, impenetrable behemoth of a production. It’s transfixing for all the wrong reasons.

Gunter is an energetic, subtle, genuinely amusing, hard-hitting piece that ties the effects of violence and suspicion to the patriarchal structure and all its demands. Julia Grogan, Norah Lopez-Holden, and Hannah Jarrett-Scott materialise the story while Higman narrates it and contextualises it sitting at her drums, electric guitar in hand. Titles introduce the characters and set the scene, streamlining the process and maintaining a beckoning pace freed from the need of any lengthy explanation. Unshackled from the constraints of historical accuracy but rooted in the factual events, the show is feminist fringe theatre at its best.

It’s a visceral, truthful, moving performance. Haines is genuinely funny, balancing the horror of the stats that surround labiaplasty. It’s an exceptionally well-researched production, medically and humanly. Directed by Louise Orwin and starring Haines’s mother too, it’s an important show that could be pivotal to many with female genitals. High Steaks was a sold-out hit earlier in the year at VAULT Festival, it’s not hard to see why. Aptly, it’s now running at the Anatomy Lecture Theatre at Summerhall for a limited time at Edinburgh Festival Fringe. Beg, borrow, steal to nab a ticket. And bring your mum, your nan, your besties, and your allies.

Jim Culleton directs Andrew Bennett and Janet Moran as they take turns to open up in conversational confessional style. They do so in a liminal space designed by Zia Bergin-Holly. The set is suspended between interior and exterior: the outside wall of a building, with its stripped posters and lonely lamppost is at odds with the comfy armchair and barstools that stand in front of it. While Mairead and Mal meet old and new flames, O’Brien takes the opportunity to explore the fallout of repressed homosexuality and the rampant toxic relationship with alcohol.

The poet and director crafts a poignant exploration of manipulation, coercive control, and domestic violence, infusing it with poetic interludes that are the definite highlight of the project.

The term “diva” rose to prominence with its relation to an operatic background and popularly revolves around the traits of someone’s character. Typically (and misogynistically) attributed to women, it’s used to describe a person whose temperament and self-importance are quite difficult to handle. Traditionally, it’s strikingly negative and obviously patronising. The definition has relaxed these days, defining personalities whose presence in pop culture is of unignorable social and cultural value. But the Beyonces and Lady Gagas of the world are only the last in a line of artists who left their mark on the history of entertainment.

With strands of simulation theory and a vibe steeped in folklore, myths, and legends, the play follows two souls as they come back and find each other in three timelines. 

Union is half love letter to a changing city and half harangue against the soulless destruction of local communities for the benefit of a coffee shop chain. Max Wilkinson offers an abundance of topical matters, slightly overdoing it, and better suited for a longer running time.

Fairly outdated morals go hand in hand with a strikingly modern laddish attitude, while a melodramatic ending eagerly awaits. It’s a relatively wordy and stuffy production, but it celebrates a neglected, forgotten playwright who had quite the knack for a witty response.

Disruption comes from a place of curiosity. It’s an intellectually provocative story, expertly woven into an absorbing piece of choral theatre.

Olly Medlicott’s vision is crystal clear, but this iteration looks and sounds more like the workshop of an early draft. It lacks punch and falls short in atmosphere at this stage, but it can gain it, doubtlessly.

Written a decade ago, the piece is perhaps more significant now than it was in 2013. Beneatha’s Place is unquestionably and ideologically hefty, academically relevant, and socio-politically topical. It very much rides on the coattails of Raisin, covering the same points with an added first-hand representation of the political climate of pre-independent Nigeria and an academic look at the current societal dynamics. It’s an explicit lecture on privilege and prejudice. 

Fisheye is the crown jewel of the first edition of Omnibus Theatre’s AI Festival. If expanded and developed accordingly, it might have the reach and impact of a new earth-shaking classic. Pout’s world-building is ambitious but consistent and decisive, as is his attention to detail and allegoric flair. It’s easy to see the future it will have.

There are plenty of riveting reflections, from the science versus belief argumentation, to how the awareness of mortality plagues our race, pushing us to research a more significant meaning to make sense of it.

The summer season of the Bush opens with a politically charged show about the delicate, complex connection between Jonathan, who lives in Hong Kong, and Chloe, an ambitious second-generation Hongkonger in England. Their long-distance relationship works through music recommendations and sweet messages, but, when dissent explodes in their motherland, they get caught up in the fight for a brighter future for the country. AJ Yi writes a sensitive, romantic look into social and political engagement from the perspective of two hopeful youngsters from wildly different backgrounds.

The writers want so badly for this to be a soberly romantic mix between The Notebook and The Bridges of Madison County via Dear Evan Hansen, but only manage to hit the nails of its coffin. It’s unexciting, unengaging, and as deep as a rivulet. The characters are one-dimensional figurines, including the protagonist, whose only personality trait is her grief and inability to love anyone else but Stephen. 

While Greg Wilkinson’s play is incredibly thought-provoking, the majority of its themes are offered and then left unexplored. AI becomes the incidental catalyst for the downfall of the couple, but there’s more to it than that.

The play is unforgiving. It tears apart the Met Police, their brutal questioning techniques, gross negligence, finger-pointing, and the inherent duplicity of governmental affairs. It’s a refreshingly political addition to the West End. 

Sarah Middleton’s Shewolves was quite the success at Edinburgh Festival Fringe last year, so it’s not a surprise it’s now made its way to London. Directed by Hannah Stone, it’s a high-energy production with a young soul. Gurjot Dhaliwal (Priya) and Harriet Waters (Lou) are a close-knit cast, effortlessly comedic as they spiral into unforeseen panic.