Author: micaanderson

One of the most difficult parts about growing older is reckoning with how often our parents’ hopes and fears reflect ours. Paradok Platform investigates this reckoning via their relatable, but at times lukewarm This Natural Scene. 

Isabella Caron and Rosalie Wessel, who switch between playing the mother and daughter that are the central characters of the piece, certainly have no easy acting feat on their hands. Caron first appears as the Mother, and Wessel as Her (her daughter) – their switches are signified by short moments of physical theatre and a changing of cardigans. Caron and Wessel seem uneasy in their roles at the beginning; once the first segment of somewhat wooden movement is over, however, and they swap over, the piece begins to take pace and feel more natural. 

As Caron and Wessel ease into their physical storytelling, the written storytelling unfortunately begins to dip. Jane Morgan, who also directed, makes some compelling points – I found myself thinking, ‘mothers are images of their daughters, daughters are images of their mothers’ – while watching. But the script goes round in circles, and the pacing means arguments come seemingly out of nowhere. The moment of the show that was meant to carry the most weight loses its traction due to the excessive shouting that took place in the scene before. While the piece was certainly emotional, I wish it’s content had been a bit more hard-hitting – like mother-daughter relationships tend to be.

https://tickets.edfringe.com/whats-on/paradok-platform-this-natural-scene

In a world where we decide who exactly to hate based on the whims of the Internet, what does a person do when they become ‘The Internet’s Most Hated’? Star Stone attempts to answer this question in her one-woman piece Villain Era, to middling success.

Accompanied by impressive projections, Stone sets off in spinning her tragic yarn. The story seems fairly common – actor moves to LA, actor is desperate for work, actor takes role that ends up screwing actor over, actor learns something.  Stone has the advantage of having experienced something horrific, and, more importantly, true, but the execution leaves something to be desired. While her character work is strong, the script makes me unsure as to whether the character she is creating on stage is a pastiche, or if it’s an honest portrayal. 

Despite snappy multimedia elements, showing clips of the infamous video for which Stone is famous for (and the accompanying online abuse she received), there is a disconnect between the comedy and tragedy of the situation. Ryan Cunnigham’s direction also sees Stone foray into various moments of physical theatre, which eventually wind their way round to becoming personifications of Stone’s different emotions. While compelling, their inclusion feels messy in the course of the narrative. I found myself seeking to hear more of Stone’s thoughts, but non-stylised. 

Stone, undoubtedly, went through something deplorable. The conclusion of the piece, where we learn the truth of the video production’s company involvement (or lack thereof) in Stone’s descent into online ridicule feels like a gut-punch. There is a real potential in this piece, but it is weighed down by antiquated Internet references and a feminist undertone that comes a little too late.

https://tickets.edfringe.com/whats-on/villain-era

Full ashtrays, empty bottles, dirty dishes, laundry that’s been hung up for too long and is definitely dry, and an eerie sense that you’re wasting your youth – welcome to Brixton. Or rather, welcome to the living room of the Brixton houseshare that is the setting of Albie Marber’s Barbies and Drillas. 

The characterisation of the five flatmates is relatable, while still being tongue-in-cheek. There seems to be an awareness in Marber’s writing of the privilege the characters are unaware of while they verbally spar as to who has it worse. Watching Kerr Louden’s William (low-level political underling) and Evan Moynihan’s Raff (wannabe novelist) argue is like watching Dexter from One Day and JP from Fresh Meat have a face-off (in a good way). Tegan Noble, as Lottie, is brilliantly comedic when making witty comments from behind her vape, but also strikes a thoughtful chord when she takes a pause from her online meetings to offer advice to the others. Isobel Twist, as the highly-strung Poppy, is the convincing reality check the rest need – I only wish I had seen more of her narratively. My personal highlight, however, was Oliver Hatfield’s Laurie – perpetual art student, and de facto landlord. The rise and fall of his character is brilliantly and hilariously handed. 

This is a play that certainly relies on strength of the performer’s individual dynamics, but I did find myself searching for the heart of the piece – and struggling to find it. Add in a rather confusing twist towards the end with an unseen antagonist, and the tragic downturn doesn’t quite hit the mark. But it is thoughtfully wrapped up in the final scene, and poses the age-old question that haunts all twenty-somethings; ‘Would I still be friends with you if we met now?’ Barbies and Drillas doesn’t seek to give you an answer – they’re still figuring it out, too.

https://tickets.edfringe.com/whats-on/barbies-and-drillas

My very first thought upon the start of the show is that it is amazing to see Scottish talent at the Fringe – and more so, someone who is keen to keep her Scottish identity at the heart of her work. Once Tilly, the central character, moves to London early in the show, there is plenty of mention of how she is stereotyped due to her accent and upbringing, especially on dates. In return, Fairfield stereotypes London right back; but in her case, they don’t feel cliched; indeed, she makes certain to poke fun at herself quite a bit. 

Fairfield certainly has some strong acting chops – in comedy especially. Her jokes stand very well on their own, so I did find some of her and associate director Sarah Fox’s direction choices to be a little too big at times. Fairfield is naturally charming, and her writing strikes a great balance between funny and emotional – I felt my heart drop for her when a certain beau sends a dreaded break up text. 

At the heart of the piece, however, is Fairfield’s grieving process following the loss of her mother. It provides a brilliant bit of grounding, but it’s inclusion feels a bit rushed. This is understandable, seeing as Fairfield only has 45 minutes to tell her tale. She does so extremely strongly – I would love to see a full hour from her next Fringe!

https://tickets.edfringe.com/whats-on/hot-girl-summer

One part dystopian game show, one part freaky fairytale – Gamble, co-created by Hannah Walker and Rose Postlethwaite, is a sharp and witty look at the world of commercial online gambling. Walker, who leads the show, is charming and bursting with energy. As we settle in, those who were expecting one more one-woman show about self-destructive behaviour have those expectations flipped immediately on their head. 

With the use of very snappy and quite jarring projections, Walker launches into multiple monologues rattling off modern gambling jargon that we, as audience members, recognise from breaks in daytime television, and have normalised in our minds. It’s interspersed with forays into a fairytale that is definitely NOT about Walker and her partner, and their struggle to build a life together when their addiction to gambling is working precisely against that. 

The multimedia elements are really the highlight of this production – part way through, Postlethwaite is drafted in to start betting on online slots live as the show progresses. This remains a constant reminder to the audience as to the obsession and tension associated with gambling addiction, and adds a bittersweet tinge to the funnier elements. Paula Penman’s direction keeps the story moving as much as possible, but there are moments where the action tends to drag. 

There is also a fine line between a rehearsed chaos, and a narrative that can seem disorganised – there were points where I wasn’t quite sure what Walker was trying to express to the audience; however, all becomes clear at the emotional climax, which is as hard-hitting as it is funny. This is not a show that ties everything up in a pretty bow – my feeling, upon leaving, is that the problem it discusses is far from over.

https://tickets.edfringe.com/whats-on/gamble

What Chappell Roan has done for the community of queer women who are just now realising that that one friendship might’ve been more cannot be understated. Thus is the feeling from Gogo Boots Go, a Talkers & Doers production centring around a reunion between two young women at a wedding dress fitting.

Amber Charlie Conroy and Rosalie Roger-Lacan both perform in, and have written, the show, and you can tell – the dialogue between them flows freely, and feels relatable. Anna Whealing’s direction has clearly tried to make the best of a small space and limited set possibilities; but as a result, some of the blocking feels awkward. They are constantly circling each other, both in conversation and physically, and it sometimes distracts from the verbal sparring between the two. Conroy is particularly strong as the gutsy Charlie, unafraid to act with the confidence that her green suit and white gogo boots give. Roger-Lacan, as the dry Clelia, takes a little bit more time to warm up – her monologue regarding her feelings towards Charlie towards the end of the piece, however, is stunning. 

This is a show that is deeply relatable. It touches lightly on issues such as religion and upbringing, and how that intersects with sexuality in a large way. The writing is strong, with the dynamics between the two women constantly shifting in a way that felt natural; if with quite a few pregnant pauses. I found the points raised regarding the thin line between friendship and love, particularly between queer music, to be very poignant; I’d love to see the piece developed more, and in a space where it can become the (red wine) supernova it can be.

https://tickets.edfringe.com/whats-on/gogo-boots-go