Category: Review

REVIEW: Tango In Silk

Published on by Jimena BatresLeave a comment

A tango that longed for a bigger stage to breathe

Rating: 2.5 out of 5.

Tango In Silk is a five-minute tango choreographed and performed by Xi Liu, with partner Mingcong Hu. Having made an impression at the Edinburgh Fringe, the piece drew loyal audiences– one woman beside me had even travelled from Cambridge to see it again after falling in love with the performance there. This speaks volumes about the impact the duo is capable of achieving, though on this particular night in London the magic didn’t quite land in the same way. 

Visually, the work is stunning. Xi Liu, radiant in a flowing red dress that nodded to her heritage, offered a striking image onstage. The costuming was elegant and evocative, drawing the eye from the opening steps right through to the final pose. The music, too, was beautifully chosen: a blend of Argentine and Chinese melodies that anchored the piece in its central theme of cultural fusion. In these elements, the show succeeds– interweaving the sensuality of tango with the shimmering glamour of 1930s Shanghai. 

The choreography set out to tell a story: the experience of an East Asian woman arriving in the UK, her journey from fear and displacement toward confidence and transformation. While the lifts and poses were impressive, the narrative arc didn’t always come through as clearly as intended. Moments of connection between the dancers, so essential to tango’s intensity, felt underplayed, which diluted the emotional power of the piece. 

The ending was particularly abrupt. When the lights came up, the audience seemed momentarily unsure if the performance had truly finished– an unusual silence filled the room. No one lifted from their seats, no one spoke– a woman had to come in and say “You can take pictures with the company on stage. That was the show”. It was telling when the audience member beside me, who had spoken so fondly of the Edinburgh run, whispered, “It wasn’t like that in Edinburgh.” 

To be fair to the dancers, the venue might have been a mismatch for the show. Whilst The Etcetera Theatre is a wonderful and accessible venue, it is perhaps not the best fit for a piece involving such expansive lifts and sweeping movement. The dancers seemed slightly confined by the stage, which may have contributed to a sense of hesitancy that rippled through the performance. Even so, both Liu and Hu are clearly talented dancers with a compelling vision. Tango in Silk promises a poetic, culturally rich experience, and with some refinement– and perhaps a more suitable venue– it could fully deliver on its potential.

REVIEW: I’m Ready To Talk Now

Published on by gracewallisLeave a comment

A piece that celebrates the unique power of theatre: to give complete strangers permission to tuck each other into bed, to joyfully exchange deeply personal fragments of loneliness, and to find those who are more than happy to listen when you are finally ready to talk

Rating: 5 out of 5.

When there is only one seat in the audience and it’s for your butt, certain things happen that wouldn’t normally in traditional theatre. Your sense of presence, of your own body, is shocked into a heightened awareness that can be deeply unnerving. 

It can also be the most connected you feel to another human being in a long time.

When I walked up to Australian artist Oliver Ayres’s one-on-one production I’m Ready To Talk Now in a room off the lobby of the Traverse Theatre, I was nervous. Even before I stepped inside, I felt something start to crane its neck and fix its silent gaze on me. What I didn’t expect was how that attention would, in short shrift, transform into an exchange so warm, accessible, and intimate, I didn’t want to leave.

After a warm welcome chat about life and access needs, Ayres tucked me into a hospital bed, where I watched him recount – through movement, music, and projection – receiving a whiplash diagnosis of a rare autoimmune disease in his first year of gender-affirming hormone therapy. In forty-five minutes, Ayres pulled the curtain on his experience navigating multiple monumental transitions, all at the mercy of a transphobic medical system struggling to diagnose him. 

When audience and artist converge like this – in such radical intimacy with each other – everything becomes a dialogue about the body: how we’re similar or different; how we care for and listen to each other; how, despite being total strangers, we’ve both chosen to be here together. As soon as Ayres tucked me in (under a handmade blanket embroidered with every date he’d been admitted to hospital), I became hyper-aware of my body, only to watch Ayres dissociate from his own right in front of me. Some of the loneliest and most heartful theatre I have ever witnessed, it was a privilege to meet an artist who was not only so intentional with his craft but also with having me there alongside him while he shared his story. Long after our hug goodbye, I still miss him.

There’s a lot of theatre out there that lets us get away with consuming it the same way we consume social media – entering and exiting without a trace. But something else happens when your literal body is required to help someone tell their story. I’m Ready To Talk Now is not about getting you to understand or witness someone else’s trauma. It is a piece that celebrates the unique power of theatre: to give complete strangers permission to tuck each other into bed, to joyfully exchange deeply personal fragments of loneliness, and to find those who are more than happy to listen when you are finally ready to talk. 

I’m Ready To Talk Now was a part of the 2025 Edinburgh Festival Fringe and played until 24 August. More info can be found here: http://www.oliverayres.com.au/im-ready-to-talk-now

REVIEW: Éirann by A Taste of Ireland

Published on by fbalchinLeave a comment

Rating: 3 out of 5.

Flawlessly executed footwork is the standout element in this promisingly modern take on Irish traditions

The crowd was already fizzing with anticipation of the good craic promised by the omniscient voice of the narrator (who we sadly never hear from again). Director Brent Pace seeks to bring the traditions of Irish music and dance into the modern theatrical realm with his own brand of highly acclaimed presentation of Irish history.

This show has a dramaturg, although it must be said there is very little drama to… well, turg. It starts out with ancient Irish Vikings, and the best I can follow it leads into the Irish Famine, the Easter Uprisings and into the Good Friday Agreement. Quite heavy hitting topics for a show that is essentially one big ceilidh. Mixed into proceedings are a superb musical trio consisting of the exceptionally talented fiddler Megan McGinley, banjo virtuoso  Eamonn O’Sullivan and guitarist Aaron O’Grady (I think- the programme doesn’t actually confirm it’s him). As well as solo vocalist Brian O’Broin, this rounds off the non-stop action. However next to the following scenes being performed to pre-recorded backing tracks with soft club beats, the contrast makes you long for a full live band onstage.

All sixteen dancers are genuinely faultless. Spectacularly skilled, they never put a foot wrong-quite literally, and brought passion, charm and personality to very structured dance pieces. The action skewed more in favour of the male performers whereas the women occasionally felt unjustly tertiary, given the militaristic leanings of the majority of the scenes.

The footwork was so hypnotic it became almost like ASMR; a soft patter like gently rainfall at first and then fervent rhythmic percussion like a thunderstorm. At one point I was convinced sparks were going to ignite with the sheer speed at which the shoes were tapping. A sensational ten-minute solo by Gavin Shevlin had the crowd in a frenzy with some of the most technically difficult choreography I’ve ever seen. I eventually worked out he was portraying the key political figure Mícheál Ó Coileáin whilst in prison, but there’s no context for his importance unless you already knew. Similarly in a segment where the women wore orange vests, I eventually recognised they were representing the Unionists. These were missed opportunities to educate through dance. Unfortunately the performers are let down by almost every other facet of the production, which currently does not quite know what is wants to be.

The projections on the backdrop are either too dark and murky, or completely bleached out of contrast and I could barely read what scant details there were on it. Live footage from the stage (apparently now a theatrical obligation) broadcast onto three vertical panels were pointless or otherwise distracting.

Ultimately, I’m reminded of the scene in the 2025 film Sinners, in which the infamous song “Rocky Road To Dublin” and Irish dancing are used particularly effectively as a plot device at a pivotal point. We know Irish dance can be used as a narrative tool beyond technical showboating. With Éirann, I wanted characters to invest in. Could we follow a child as they learn about Ireland throughout time? Could we follow two best friends, one a Republican and one a Unionist? Is there a hero, a villain, a romance, anything? Irish music and dance is so evocative I can’t help but feel this production has much potential. Currently it is an enjoyable mish mash of loosely historical vignettes trying to avoid political offence, but a little commitment to theme and character development could go a long way to packing the emotional punch it is so clearly capable of making alongside the skill and heart of the dance.

REVIEW: GARRY STARR: CLASSIC PENGUINS

Published on by gracewallisLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

In his own way, and by committing so spectacularly to his mission to save an inanimate collection of orange-bound books from extinction, Starr made some of us question what we’re really trying to “save” nowadays. And whether we’re having any fun doing it.

In a classic Fringe fumble, a concert of Holst’s “The Planets” ran overtime, preventing me from seeing Garry Starr perform his newest show Classic Penguins at its first Fringe venue. But, in retrospect, it was perhaps meant to be, because seeing the show at its second Fringe venue at the grand McEwan Hall – where it migrated mid-Fringe due to popular demand – was insane. 

This was not the Gaulier-trained clown Garry Starr’s first go at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, and it showed. In this rowdy, anything-is-possible evening of full-frontal comedy, Damien Warren-Smith let us ride on his hilarious coattails… and sometimes sniff at what lay underneath them. 

Often, the show leaned a bit too heavily on the proximity-to-his-cock-and-balls fun. Did he need to crowdsurf as far as he did across the audience? But then again, did the audience need to be that effusively happy to help him crowdsurf, naked, over them? 

There’s definitely something to be said for witnessing Starr’s ingenious ability to muster the support, love, and participation of his audience. The energy he created in the auditorium clearly did not just come from the fact that he’d made sure everyone had a good view. Starr is a born talent when it comes to clowning. You just want to keep cheering him on, no matter how dirty his proposals. 

And somehow, his mission to save a shelf of Penguin Classic paperbacks “from extinction” by acting each one out (even if it only went as far as the title) somehow had tangible resonances with the climate crisis, a feat in and of itself. Those resonances weren’t enough to make me think deeply about human responsibility for the environment, per say. But, in his own way and by committing so spectacularly to his mission to save an inanimate collection of orange-bound books from extinction, Starr made hopefully some of us question what we’re really trying to “save” nowadays. And whether we’re having any fun doing it.

If anything, a good clown will send you home with a light reminder that life is really absurd, and sometimes (if you ask nicely), just one naked crowdsurf away from a day well-spent. Let’s just say, I was very happy I could reschedule. 

Garry Starr: Classic Penguins was a part of the 2025 Edinburgh Festival Fringe and played until 24 August. More info here: https://www.edfringe.com/tickets/whats-on/garry-starr-classic-penguins

REVIEW: What a Gay Day

Published on by Eoin FentonLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

Luke Adamson charms as the campy icon of British comedy

Larry Grayson. A name sure to incite looks of delight in some or a blank stare of unfamiliarity in others. He was a lauded raconteur and entertainer of the twentieth-century British entertainment circuit, known for his bawdy innuendos and quick wit. One of a few gay figures in the cultural mainstream, Grayson has largely been forgotten over the decades. Writer Tim Connery and director Alex Donald want to see that changed with their new one-man comedy What a Gay Day! – The Larry Grayson Story, a charming insight into the life and times of the late comedian. 

The action takes place in a liminal space. Grayson is summoned by a medium in order to recount his story and reach new audiences — the showboater — before heading back into the afterlife. What follows is 80 minutes of stand up, songs, and anecdotes that have us grinning the whole time. 

Despite being the youngest in the theatre by about a generation (or two), you don’t need a working knowledge of seventies Britain to keep up with the antics. There are of course more than a few chuckles of familiarity from the audience at the mention of variety hours, celebs of the past, and The Generation Game, which made Grayson a household name. At one point Grayson dubs the time as a golden age of television, a woman nods in fervent agreement. I guess you just had to be there. 

Luke Adamson’s flourished air is compelling, he practically floats about on stage, raising his arms like a featherweight showgirl. Adamson slips on the mask of Grayson’s iconic pouting lips with an intuitive speed, he is seemingly fluent in all the limp affectations. He runs the gamut of characterisations throughout the night: one second he is a smarmy youthful showman, the next a disapproving teacher, the next Grayson at his full powers during his tight ten. What keeps us afloat during the unspooling biography are frequent breaks to Grayson at his stand up sets. He piles on layers of innuendo with the utmost dexterity. He gabs about his ‘friends’ Everard and Slack Alice with a captivating bitchiness, though we’re none the better for lapping up every sordid detail. This room for laughter and breath keeps things chugging along nicely, but also stops us from getting bogged down by the usual biography piece slump — there’s always the weight of a female relative’s death isn’t there?

What a Gay Day may not be immune to the occasional slump in the action, yet the charm and tenacity of Luke Adamson keeps us hooked. In his hands the work is elevated from fringey one-hander to a masterclass in comedic timing and camp with a lot of heart. What a gay day indeed.

Handspring Puppet Company performing Faustus in Africa at the Royal Lyceum for Edinburgh INternational Festival

REVIEW: FAUSTUS IN AFRICA!

Published on by gracewallisLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

“An ambitious exploration of the psychological confusion, chaos, and bile that take root in colonialism’s heart of darkness.”

After its premiere nearly thirty years ago, Handspring Puppet Company (War Horse, Little Amal) teams up with renowned artist and animator William Kentridge to remount a visually stunning reboot of Doctor Faustus.

In another triumph of form meeting function, one walks away from Faustus in Africa! wondering what else but puppetry and a restrung Elizabethan tragedy could have told this harrowing tale of colonialism, empire, and slavery. In this version, Faustus is a white South African (and a puppet) whose desire to live his life to the fullest leads him down a dark and winding safari of greed, corruption, and violence. The devil Mephistopheles, to whom Faustus has sold his soul in exchange for knowledge and power, is portrayed in human form by Wessel Pretorius – an ominous storytelling choice, given that all the other characters are puppets. The imagination does not have to go far in drawing a line between a human and the Devil himself. 

Combined with Handspring’s puppetry excellence and music by James Phillips & Warrick Sony, Kentridge’s animations simultaneously offer an aesthetically extraordinary treat and a horrifying creative representation of colonial violence. His erased charcoal animations effectively drive the story across the African continent. Images that often seem non-linear, random, and dreamlike lend this ambitious production the psychological underpinnings of confusion, chaos, and bile that take root in colonialism’s heart of darkness. In one animation, the typebar of a typewriter annihilates an elephant. In another, lines become bodies crammed in a slave ship. In a testament to the power of art to tell stories as dark as this one, Kentridge’s violent smudges subconsciously prime the audience to imagine a project as sickly as colonialism.

In retrospect, the scene that has stuck with me is oddly one of the first – when Faustus almost commits suicide. He believes that he has already achieved all there is to achieve, learned all there is to learn from his small human existence. He has somehow wound himself up to believe that there is nothing more for him to do on earth, no meaning left for him to discover. His solution to this problem is a colonial rampage through the African continent and a rape of the earth so brutal, it is almost too difficult to watch in the form of stylized, black and white animations. Viewed from this angle, it is not difficult to make the narrative leap from the 16th century German tale of a doctor who sells his soul for power to our society’s ongoing deal with the devil of colonialism.  Faustus in Africa! raises deeply disturbing questions about human nature, capitalism, and the lengths to which we’ve gone (and continue to go) to quench a thirst for meaning

.
Faustus in Africa was a part of the 2025 Edinburgh International Festival and played until 23 August. Get tickets here: http://www.eif.co.uk/events/faustus-in-africa


Dance and theatre legends Crystal Pite and Simon McBurney unite with internationally acclaimed Nederlands Dans Theater (NDT) to confront the climate crisis through spellbinding movement and sound.

REVIEW: Figures In Extinction

Published on by gracewallisLeave a comment

Rating: 5 out of 5.

“Every once in a while, a work of art humbly steps onstage, regards its audience with all the grief in the world, and then utterly stretches what anyone thought theatre could be or do.”

Every once in a while, something humbly steps onstage, regards its audience with all the grief in the world, and then utterly stretches what anyone thought theatre could be or do. Something that gives you hope that the most human part of humans – not machines – will save us, if not physically, then spiritually. Something that shifts the innermost shade at the core of the soul, just enough to see something flickering and pulsing, reassuringly animal-like and universal, expertly and habitually sewn shut beneath the hem of the garment we call “daily life.” 

Just as Figures in Extinction perforates whatever standards we had for “good” theatre, so too does it challenge the very nature of a critic’s review. As I stare up from the base of this behemoth, it seems more fitting to write some poetry instead. But for now, I’ll stick to the form I know best and simply encourage anyone who sees it to let it spark their own imaginations in the way the piece clearly wants.

Figures in Extinction is the fruit of a multi-year collaboration between acclaimed Canadian choreographer Crystal Pite and Complicité founder and theatre legend Simon McBurney. Perched somewhere on the dance-theatre continuum, the piece is divided into three parts – the extinction of non-human beings, the troubling neuroscience of behavior, and human mortality. Performed by Nederlands Dans Theater, Figures transcends traditional climate communication, grinding the pages of heavy natural history textbooks and oblique science journals into new colors and sounds for new compositions and symphonies. In one breathtaking swoop, it elevates non-human beings to spectators and reduces humans to the scientific probings of a petri dish. Quite simply, it has created a new language with which to effectively articulate the nastiest of today’s truths: how humans have adapted to ignore the destruction we cause. 

There are ingenious details hidden in this piece that could only be unpacked in the span of a short novel – how the sound design actively takes advantage of the very neuroscience the show explains; how the set – an ever-shifting black frame mimics and manipulates the limited focus of a human brain; how the dancers tick so precisely in harmony with every beat and sigh of the aural landscape that everything feels reverently interconnected from the moment it begins. When a piece is this detailed, it vibrates. 

When I woke up the following morning, this piece was still with me. It was in the water I splashed on my face and ran through my hair. It was in the  coffee I drank as I tried to write. In the cheeps of birds bubbling up through the window, letting the world outside greet the one inside. Whatever NDT, Crystal Pite, and Simon McBurney have gifted us in this piece, it doesn’t feel like a tissue with which  to wipe our eyes. It feels like a reason for which to open them.

Figures in Extinction is a part of the 2025 Edinburgh International Festival and playing until 24 August. Get tickets here: http://www.eif.co.uk/events/figures-in-extinction

REVIEW: NOWHERE

Published on by gracewallisLeave a comment

Rating: 5 out of 5.

“ On- and offstage collapse into each other for an hour and a half of theatre-(un)making at its finest.”

Khalid Abdalla’s Nowhere might not take place anywhere in particular, but it certainly happens in a theatre. Everything about the show – the cameras and projectors, the screens pulled open and closed, the house lighting that frequently exposes the audience – is a reminder that we are never, at any point, fools to the artifice of a playhouse. On- and offstage collapse into each other for an hour and a half of theatre-(un)making at its finest.

“It’s safe in here,” Abdalla begins. From the comfort of the theatre, he reminds us that there are many places in the world today where the ground on which people stand is not safe. It is from this boundary of security – between the world we all inhabit comfortably in the familiar darkness of the theatre and the real world just outside the ushered doors  – that Abdalla tells his story. 

In Nowhere, Abdalla delicately unspools the thread of his career as an activist, artist, friend, and son, picking glass out of wounds made by an increasingly violent and hopeless world. Virgil-like in the calm and humble eloquence with which he guides us down each level of hell, Abdalla proves that art still has a place (perhaps the most important one) in the most troubling of times. It can be a weapon, a salve, and, most importantly, a seedling of hope that even strangers can give one another.

Nowhere rips the veils of entertainment from our eyes, asking, How do we traverse the boundary between theatre and life? Between dream and reality? Between the individual and the collective? And what could art possibly do to help us? It turns out that, when guided by someone of Khalid Abdalla’s artistic caliber, art can do a lot.

At the very least, it can give us a “nowhere” – the only remaining place safe from any kind of claim to the land. It is an imagined space but also a tangibly shared one that comes into being when we invest in a ticket and sit side by side in the dark. It gives us an opportunity to gather regardless of belief and where most other places like it likely don’t exist.

I found myself reflecting on my grandfather – a Holocaust survivor who helped to run a theatre in his Polish ghetto before being transferred to a camp. He had needed to create his own Nowhere – a place he could gather people, transport them to a place of shared resistance, and cling to whatever dregs of hope remained. I have a feeling he would have liked Abdalla’s Nowhere. And if my own is as full of hope and possibility as either of theirs, then that’s where I’d like to plant my seeds of hope for the future too. That’s where I’ll continue to gather. 

On- and offstage collapse into each other for an hour and a half of theatre-(un)making at its finest.


Nowhere was a part of the 2025 Edinburgh Festival Fringe and played until 24 August. More info on tour dates and venues can be found here: https://fueltheatre.com/projects/nowhere

REVIEW:  The Mayor and His Daughter: A Genuine Appreciation of Comedy

Published on by Claire McArthurLeave a comment

Rating: 5 out of 5.

deeply silly and incredibly fun chaotic sketch comedy

The Mayor (Ciaran Chillingworth) and his Daughter (Kit Finnie) are on a mission to rebuild their community, by connecting through comedy. They’ve found a Russell Howard DVD boxset in the woods, and that’s key to destroying the demons that lurk in the village. 

In the anarchic hour of sketches around this theme, we’re treated to ridiculously silly performances, with sketches packed full of material, and an impressive scale of effort from both performers. There’s a whole gamut of comedic elements all joining forces in a truly unique venture.

The Mayor and His Daughter have a fraught relationship, testing boundaries and rewarding with treats. We have an overhead projector graphing the peaks and troughs of the show, the rise and fall of Russell Howard, a mind-reading demon telling jokes, the trials of the post-man and local business man, a chatty milk-bottle and ‘then I got off the bus’. You’ll just have to trust me that somehow this all makes sense, as well as no sense. 

There’s a fair degree of audience participation, but well judged and it’s predominately as a crowd – we have a personality test to determine the quality of the show we receive, and also another set of options later in the show to determine the fate of the village. This central narrative is absolutely key to keeping the whole show together, and the sheer unpredictability of what’s going to happen next is counterbalanced beautifully with satisfying call-backs. 

So very silly but incredibly funny, and it’s all a bit mad and wonderful at the same time – I only wish I’d been able to see it earlier in the run, because this sort of show is a perfect example of genre-bending creativity needed at the Fringe. I really hope The Mayor and His Daughter are able to leave the village long enough to tour the show, they deserve to be seen by many. 

“The Mayor and His Daughter: A Genuine Appreciation of Comedy”, run finished on 24 August, at  Snugbar @ Assembly Roxy. Information is available at:
https://www.edfringe.com/tickets/whats-on/the-mayor-and-his-daughter-a-genuine-appreciation-of-comedy and they can also be found online @mahdcomedy 

REVIEW: Caroline McEvoy: Train Man

Published on by Claire McArthurLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

all aboard for some comedy home truths

Caroline McEvoy’s show “Train Man” is named after her brother Jonathan, and his love of trains, but covers so much more in this thoughtful and funny hour. 

We’re taken through her life growing up in Bangor (and why that makes her a brave girl) and experiences in all-girls schools, being the eldest daughter, Disney princesses, and the disruptive arrival of her baby brother when she was three.  We also touch on her family’s values, sexuality, moving to London and her partner, and an appraisal of her dad.  

Although this isn’t a full-on musical comedy, there are the occasional very funny song verses – the reflection on there being no Northern Irish Disney princesses leads to a Little Mermaid parody which has a killer punchline, as well as a pondering about the colour of her balaclava. 

This is all told with convivial and chatty air, which is all very pleasant and good fun, but the heart of the show is understandably, her relationship with Jonathan, her brother who has autism, and the challenges this has meant for her (and for him) trying to navigate in the world. This is centred in deep affection and carefully crafted, so we never feel we’re laughing at Jonathan, but we’re definitely laughing at the description of the situations that have arisen, especially hide and seek in the transport museum, and at some of the comparisons between the two of them. 

We gain some needed fire as we reach the climax of the show – with Caroline railing against the injustices experienced by Jonathan, including false hopes, and the lack of awareness from the general public. She does a lovely job of highlighting the significance of the sunflower lanyard as a bit of an additional PSA too, and adds a note of reality about the future, which helps steer the message away from being twee, whilst still celebrating his accomplishments. 

This is a well-constructed show (which is perhaps to be expected with someone with such organisational skills), as well as having some deeply funny moments, and there’s lots to appeal to a broad audience range, going beyond a tale of sibling rivalry.  

“Caroline McEvoy: Train Man” runs to 25 August, at 13:20 at Roxyboxy @ Assembly Roxy. Tickets can be bought from: https://www.edfringe.com/tickets/whats-on/caroline-mcevoy-train-man 

“Train Man” then appears at the Dublin Fringe Festival from 9 – 14 September. Find more details at: https://www.fringefest.com/festival/whats-on/train-man