Edinburgh Fringe 2023 – as it happens

Wednesday 30th August:

And this is the end of my Edinburgh fringe coverage, and the end of my coverage for the 2023 fringe season. As always, I will get all of this collated into roundups as soon as I can, once I’ve had a change to recover.

The summary of Edinburgh Fringe 2023 is as follows:

• After all the controversies of 2022, Edinburgh Fringe 2023 has proceeded reasonably quietly. Some of the less popular economisations of 2022 have been restored, such as the fringe app and Fringe Central. Other rows, such as alleged favouritism of higher-profile media, have been smoothed over, or at least not flared up in public again. 2023 can be considered a no-news fringe. And after 2022, no news is good news.
• The only thing that emerged as a controversy was various rows over cancel culture. Before the fringe began, there was famously the row over The Stand cancelling a talk from Joanna Cherry, only for them to capitulate in the face of legal action. (I get the impression that The Stand were divided over this issue, and the legal notice merely enabled the other faction to say “I told you so”.) In the end, that talk was quite uneventful and boring. Then came Graham Linehan being cancelled from Leith Arches. There is a stronger case against Linehan, but Leith Arches may still have left themselves open to legal action by saying he was getting booted for not sharing their values. Or he might just be happy to score martyr points. We’ll know where this is going in a few weeks, I guess.
• Ticket sales are up 11% on last year for a fringe about the same size (depending on how you measure it), although that’s still behind the peak of 2019 – not that there’s any real push to return to 2019 numbers. The accommodation crunch hasn’t gone away, although there doesn’t seem to be any reliable indication on whether this is better or worse than the situation in 2022.
• However, all discourse on Fringe size and accommodation costs is about to be turned on its head. From next year, a ban on short term lets comes into effect in Edinburgh. There are supposed to be safeguards in place for who can and can’t let out their properties in August, but nobody seems sure how this is going to work out in practice, never mind what effect it will have on the Edinburgh Fringe. What we do know is that Edinburgh Fringe have previously forecasted a dramatic reduction in their size, although it is unclear whether they still think this.
• And one other upcoming controversy is the upcoming Fringe Community Hub, partly because it’s not clear what benefit this would bring Edinburgh or the Fringe, but more that it would mean taking over a building currently used by Greenside as its main hub. What is not clear, however, is when this transition would actually take place. Unless Edinburgh Fringe are stupid enough to eject Greenside and not go through with the plan, this change could still be years away. And God knows what shape Edinburgh Fringe will be in by then.

I’m not quite finished writing about Edinburgh; I intend to write my thoughts about short-term lets sooner rather than later. Until then, thanks to everyone who has been following me for the last month. You can now all relax.

Tuesday 29th August:

Okay, here we are. It’s the moment I’ve been building up to. What is Pick of the Fringe?

I’ve made the decision to get pickier with Pick of the Fringe. Previously, I’ve been loosely using this for anything I would have rated as four stars or above, but I’ve seen Edfringe shows quoted as “pick of the fringe” so often I’ve have to get stricter. I’m now setting myself a limit of no more than one third of what I saw. And in order to keep to this limit, I’m having to be strict on the category of theatre. There were some shows I loved for the comedy or music, but to make it to the list you need to score highly on theatrical devices needed to put together a story.

Anything I saw earlier this year at Brighton or Buxton Fringes is eligible for Edinburgh pick of the fringe if it performed there too – I almost never see something twice in the same year, so this gives shows I saw before Edinburgh a fair chance against those I saw at Edinburgh. Shows which didn’t really really have appeal in theatre category are generally excluded, although they may have recommendations in other areas.

Enough pre-preamble, here we go. Lists are in alphabetical order so being middle of the list is as good as the top or the bottom. We have:

Pick of the Fringe:

Bite Size
Bits ‘n’ Pieces
Casting the Runes
Havisham
The Last Flapper
The Madwoman
Mr. Fox
Please Love Me
Spin
Wildcat’s Last Waltz (Ike Award – seen at Brighton)

Honourable mention:

Alexander Klaus, the one-legged shoemaker
Atalanta
Ay Up Hitler
Character Flaw
Diana, the untold and untrue story
The Importance of being … Earnest?
Junk Monkey
Nation (seen as Buxton Fringe)
Otto and Astrid’s Joint Solo Project
Rites of Passage
Tom Moran is a big fat disgusting liar
We’ll Have Nun of it

One final thing to mention is a couple who missed out but maybe shouldn’t have. Apart from 2022 (when I permitted anything from 2020 onwards given the lack of Edinburgh Fringe activity in 2020-2021), I’ve only been allowing performances from earlier in the year. However, there do seem to be some groups who hung fire from 2022, which I didn’t have time to see again. So had I allowed pre-2023 performances, The Brief Life and Strange Death of Boris II, King of Bulgaria would join Pick of the Fringe, and The Hunger would join Honourable Mention.

Congratulations to my pick of the fringe, and thank you to everyone who made the effort. And wherever you finished, all of you now deserve a rest.

Monday 28th August, 10.30 p.m. – Diana, the Untold and Untrue story:

And we’re on to the last review. One announcement before this one: unfortunately, there were three performances I saw on press tickets where I did not publish reviews, in line with my policy of not publishing reviews where I feel I’m not in a position to say anything helpful. As always, if you know that was you and you would like private feedback on what I didn’t like, you are welcome to ask.

But the last one does not disappoint. I put Linus Karp’s new show down as a wildcard, but I’d heard so many good things about it, I was quite happy to have this round off my fringe visit. Linus Karp’s previous show, How to Live a Jellicle Life, was, deliberately, as weird and random as the infamous 2019 film, except it was weird in a good way. If you like the humour there, you’ll also like the humour here, but this is a lot more structured and organised, and it pays off.

It starts with a view of heaven (you know, blue sky, fluffy clouds, angelic singing and whatnot), and Diana’s voice. You’ve all heard other people tell her story, but now it’s her turn to tell her own untrue story. Various supporting characters are played throughout the performance by members of the audience, chosen by various means, and me begin with Mr. and Mrs. Spencer feeling a bit saucy. One bit of implied rumpy pumpy later, and Diana appears, already dressed as debutante to die for, honey. And for the next twenty years she is the sassiest awesomest incrediblest royal-to-be ever to walk the earth.

In case you haven’t already guessed, the running joke throughout this performance is the late People’s Princess’s absurdly high opinion of herself – taking all the hyperbole said about her after her death and cranking it up beyond the point of ridiculousness. Prince Charles appears as a cardboard cut-out, but the villain of the piece is of course the terrible wicked Camilla, now a terrible wicked creature from the deep that speaks only in hisses, puppeted by Karp’s partner-in-crime Joseph Martin. But we’re not buying into absurd conspiracy theories about the Duke of Edinburgh ordering the execution. Prince Philip is a powerless consort to the Monarch, all attempts on the life of an inconveniently alive daughter-in-law would be orchestrated by the Queen herself. And not from a poxy white Fiat Uno but with lots of explosions. Do keep up. Queenie is played on video by Geri Allen, who I almost mistook for Olivia Coleman.

And yet, even though the entire show is themed around taking the piss of the idolisation of Diana, it’s still done with a lot of love. One thing Diana did that earns the most respect in her legacy was treated people with HIV or AIDS with kindness, at a time when there was still a huge panic about people carrying the disease (not to mention the ongoing moral panic over gay people in general). This is treated with a lot of genuine affection, with the song “You’re a friend of Di” occupying a prominent spot in the performance.

The liberties Diana takes with her story do get more flagrant as the hour comes to a close, with her miraculous escape from the tunnel and the final showdown in her revenge dress not even the most outlandish bit. But if you were expecting any accuracy you probably ought to re-read the title. It’s funny performance, and whilst the production is way more complex that the Jellicle Life show, it was pulled off without a hitch, from audience participation to the many multimedia elements. Some shows I’ve seen get a lot of hype but only have niche appeal, but this easily keeps wide appeal. A tour has just been announced, so if you didn’t catch it this August there’s chance to see it yet.

Monday 28th August, 8.30 p.m.:

And we have the end-of-fringe stats. It’s 2,445,609 sales (excluding data coming in after 12 noon today). That compares to the equivalent figure of 2,201,175 for 2022, which works out at an 11.1% increase. That figure is line in with my expectations.

There was an increase of 12% reported for Brighton Fringe; and whilst I don’t have any fringe-wide figures for Buxton, the news I heard from individual venues combined with my own observations suggest an increase of at least 10% there. It’s always tempting to retrospectively shape observations to explain stats, so I’ll refrain from stating any definite reasons why numbers have grown; however, one thing that likely counted in the favour of all the fringes is Covid becoming an increasingly distant memory. Even if few things stood in the way of performers in 2022, there was anecdotally a lot of older performers still reluctant to risk it last summer. It appears that this deterrent is finally fading – although we do still need to consider that some fringegoers out of the habit of regular visits have ceased attending for good.

We also now have official figures for the final number of registrations, including post-programme registrations. At the time of programme launch, there was a minor shock result with registrations going down, with 3,132 in 2022 falling to 3,907 in 2023 (down 1.2%). However, there was a flurry after post-programme launch, so it now stands as 3,334 in 2022 rising to 3,553 in 2023 (up 6.5%).

This means two things. Firstly, it means that 2023 was either bigger or smaller than 2022 depending on whether you count post-programme registrations. For practical purposes, it probably should count, but for the purpose of the bet between Brian Ferguson (predicting a rise) and Robert Peacock (predicting a fall) – where we never agreed on how this was to be measured – I’m going to declare it an honourable draw. Secondly, the figure of sales per registration rises from 660.2 to 688.3 (up 4.3%).

Normally, that would be an indication for growth at next year’s fringe. But 2024 is not going to be a normal year. We have the unpredictable ban on short term lets coming in. The end-of-year report didn’t say anything about revised estimates contrary to earlier expectations (only a generic pledge to carry on trying to support artists), but previous forecasts were for a dramatic fall. I’ll probably post some possibilities of where this might lead as a separate article – until then, happy speculating.

Sunday 27th August, 9.30 p.m.:

We’re about to go into the business end of the coverage, where I make a decision on who get to be Pick of the Fringe. No, I have not made a decision yet. Tomorrow should also be the day we get stats on Edinburgh Fringe ticket sales, although the full details may not emerge until Tuesday.

So now’s a good time to look ahead to next year. In the end, Fringe 2023 has been reasonably uneventful, and has boiled down to a (mostly successful) job of steadying things after the turbulence of the last three years. Next year, however, we have a ban on short term lets coming into place. It was supposed to come in this year over all of Scotland, but in Edinburgh it got delayed to October precisely to give Edinburgh Fringe time to prepare for it. But there’s no doubt it will go ahead as planned in time for August 2024. I’ve been sounding out the mood amongst locals and the practice of buying up properties specifically to rent out for Edinburgh Fringe is deeply unpopular. Even amongst those otherwise positive about Edinburgh Fringe.

It is my understanding that this short-term let ban is trying to target practices that are deemed unacceptable, whilst leaving alone practices that nobody has a problem with. If you own your own home in Edinburgh and you’re happy to move out for a month, you still can. One thing I’m not sure about it how this affects University accommodation. This is a very valuable resource to keep Edinburgh Fringe affordable, but there are (quite valid) complaints that international students cannot reasonably be expected to go home for the summer. Again, perhaps the rules can distinguish between UK undergraduates who don’t need rooms in August and other students who do.

What nobody knows is how these rules and safeguards are going to work in practice. Are greedy buy-to-let landlords really going to give up their annual cash cow if they can avoid it? Might they just post somebody to (claim to) live there for eleven months to carry on getting their August bonaza? Or any other loopholes? Or might the Scottish Government over-react in a bid to close these loopholes and end up banning perfectly legitimate subletting? In theory, less supply against the same amount of demand will raise prices further. But, quite honestly, nobody knows what effect this is going to have.

It is my understanding that when Edinburgh Fringe report their end-of-festival ticket sales tomorrow or Tuesday, they will also be giving some updated forecasts on what effect they expect the short term lets ban to have on the fringe. That should give us a starting point on what might happen. Whether the forecast have any bearing on reality, of course, is another question entirely. I’ll be interested to see if they provide any information on how they’ve worked out their forecast.

At some point, I think I might do one of my speculative articles on what might happen. But, it’s just for fun. You guess is as good as mine. Fringe 2024 is going to be a lot more unpredictable than this year.

Sunday 27th August, 4.00 p.m. – Be My Guest:

This is a review where, to be honest, I’d really need to watch this again to do a properly fair review. Be My Guest is really the sort of performance where you need to be properly briefed in advance what it’s about. Of course, the Edinburgh Fringe doesn’t always work like that. People on the hardcore end who see five or more shows a day can easily have forgotten everything about what they’re going to see next other than where it is and when it is (remembering title optional). So I found myself watching the last of many plays I saw this fringe which written by the performer and about the performer. Unlike the others, however, this is much more ambitious, much more abstract, and performed through the medium of clowning.

There is one thing I should give credit for, and it’s something long overdue, and that is just how much talent is required for clowning. The key to good clowning is to make it look easy, and the easy mistake to draw from this is that because it looks easy, it is easy. You only need to see what happens when someone underestimates how much practice it needs to appreciate how much of a difference it makes. Monia Baldini has this practised to a tee, and also engages with the audience through the performance. It’s at times quite a risky performance too; quite a lot of things could be uncomfortable to the audience, but she gets this right and stays on their right side.

However, I’m not certain the performance is achieving what it was supposed to achieve. It was only after I’d seen the performance and I went back to the original blurb that I remembered what the key concept was supposed to be. The “guests” referred to in the title are the alter-egos that live inside you, and the six characters Baldini are playing are: The Hostess, The Artist, Venus, Shelion, The Tragic Actress, and Herself. Unfortunately, I got completely lost there – I sort-of picked up the concept of different characters, but not who they were. I must declare at this point that I missed the first couple of minutes of the play (sorry, scheduling went slightly pear-shaped), and I might have missed something that would have explained this. But when a performance is so heavily dependent on an abstract concept, you do need to think about what happens if your audience doesn’t pick up the important bits at the beginning. It’s a good idea to drop refreshers into the script so that anyone who’s getting confused can catch up (and indeed a couple of performances I saw earlier this fringe used this to good effect). But if you want everybody too keep track of which character’s which, you’re going to have to work hard.

There is another way of looking at this though – does the audience actually need to understand what the performance is meant to be about? A lot of performances on the fringes of the fringe are enjoyed specifically for being random, and that seems to have been the appeal here. And – again – in hindsight, the end of the fringe with my attention flagging was not a fair slow for this play; were it not for the fact it was impossible, I’d have liked to watch this again to get a better idea of what it was meant to say. Provisionally, I do think there’s a divergence between what the audience are enjoying and what the audience are supposed to be picking up; but whether that matters is up to you.

Saturday 26th August, 11.00 p.m.:

We’re into the winding up phase now. Two reviews to go, but before then, an update on an earlier bit of news.

I turned up briefly to a media drinks reception and got chatting to someone from Edinburgh Fringe about this new Fringe Community Hub, set to be where Greenside Infirmary Street currently is. Previously, it was implied (indirectly) that this would be in place from next year. Now, there seems to be less certainty. This is now being described as a “long-term” project, which could be years away.

It is my understanding that the Festival Fringe Society are co-ordinating with Greenside, and will make sure nobody moves out until the Fringe Community Hub (or workmen) are ready to move in. This should be achievable; the precedent is help by Underground Venues at Buxton Fringe. 2013 was supposed to be the last year at Pauper’s Pit and the Barrel Room – in the end the last year was 2016. However, the developers had the courtesy to keep in touch with Underground Venues and made sure they didn’t have to move out until they were absolutely ready to bring in the builders.

I hope the Festival Fringe Society will do the same with Greenside. In effect, this means that by the New Year they will need to have decided one way or the other if they intend to have a Fringe Community Hub in place by August 2024. As well as a matter of courtesy, it’s a matter of basic sense, because it would look VERY bad if they ejected a venue from its key location (or if uncertainty forced Greenside to move on) only to end up not using that place for the following fringe. In 2022 the Festival Fringe Society pissed off a lot of people due to difficult decisions over saving money, but that was probably unavoidable. It would be a different matter to make enemies over something you didn’t have to do.

But I’m still hopeful they won’t make such an unforced error. There was one other thing I chatted about, but that’s on another subject, so I’ll get back to that tomorrow.

Saturday 26th August, 6.00 p.m. – The Big Bite-Size Breakfast Show (2):

I did promise I would pick out some highlights for the Bite Size plays once I’d seen all three sets, but I must confess, this year I’m finding it difficult. Out of all the things I’ve seen that do ten-minute plays, Bite Size has always blown the competition out the water (although a lot of ten minuters I see elsewhere are more like writer development and so maybe not entirely fair to compare). This tie round, however, although everything has been to a high standard, we’re close to a dead heat, with very little to choose between them. So these highlights I’m picking are mostly chosen on whims, and I might have changed my mind by tomorrow. We have:

• The Improv Class: Close run with all the others, but this one is my firm call. I’ve already given my spoiler-free recommendation, but now that we’re near the end I can say a bit more. We are in what appears to be an improv class with an instructor who has clear favouritism to one participant over to the other – but it’s actually something very different. It’s preparation for a father with the onset on Dementia, and whatever he say goes; you just have to run with in in real life’s cruellest variant on improv.
• A Rare Bird: A play where a woman sees an a bird expert at her local university about a magical book she’s opened that is slowly transforming her into a bird – but given the humdrum state of her life, she’s pretty much decided it’s got to be an improvement on her current lot. And the prospect looks very tempting.
• Promotion: Two women up for promotion find themselves in an Escape Room game to see who gets the job. At first it looks like this looks like an office politics play relatable to anyone who knows someone who’s been in the same job for age and behaves like they own the place – but the real villain in this is someone more obvious.
• Dating with Dostoyevsky: A woman in a cafe followed by the ghost of her ex-boyfriend who died in a gas explosion. Ex turns out to be a bit of a dick, and gets a bit narked off when a random guy in the cafe turns out to share her love for Russian literature. Ghost’s last-ditch attempt to scare her off with a warning he might be a murderer leads to the final twist, which I really should have seen coming.

Also a special mention for Inevitable, where a man, facing the prospect of a date with a girl he likes, overthinks things to play out every single possible outcome. I feel SEEN.

One thing that is notable is that nearly half of the plays were written by three members of the cast. Probably not too much of a surprise – after all, they’ve had four years to write plays – but they’re easily up to the standard of the others. I’m especially impressed with Thomas Whishire’s scripts which are consistently good.

The only thing I do miss are the kind of scripts they had in the early days which took on some wildly surrealistic concepts that can only work in ten minutes. Ah well, all good things must come to an end eventually. Other than that, good to see a comeback, and it’s just like they never left.

Friday 25th August:

Just want to pick up on one thing said at the start of the fringe, which probably seems like a lifetime ago ago. The festival launch of Assembly, I gather, has been getting some weariness in recent years when its artistic director, William Burdett-Coutts, goes on a rant about something or other – something that, some people feel, unfairly takes the spotlight away from the acts you’re supposed to be showcasing. However, I do have some sympathy over the subject of this year’s rant. In 2021, when many Edinburgh Venues chose to refocus on London (what with Scotland taking ages to decide if theatre was allowed any more), Assembly opted to run a big venue for Coventry for its City of Culture year. Unfortunately, Coventry City of Culture went bust with Assembly owed a lot of money. It’s understandable why Assembly would be aggrieved over this.

I do have some doubts over whether the situation for Assembly really is as bad Burdett-Coutts claims. They certainly don’t seem to have had any trouble putting on a full-scale Edinburgh venue in 2022 or 2023. It isn’t necessarily a good idea to throw the most money at the largest enterprises – we learned this the hard way at Brighton Fringe, where The Warren took the lion’s share of the emergency funding for ultimately no benefit, whilst a fraction of the money might have save The Rialto which could have been a much greater benefit. The other factor – and this is not a dig at the Assembly but a comment about the commercial venues overall – is that I’m not sure losing one of the big four would be that big a loss. Their artistic output is all quite similar, and should one of them go bust it wouldn’t be too difficult for the other three to carry on filling this role. Nor would it be that difficult for other venues to move into George Street, Assembly Hall, and George Square. Lose a venue such as Traverse or Summerhall, however, and you’d have a case for saying no-one can replace that.

However, I still think it is for the best for Assembly, along with all other creditors from Coventry City of Culture, to be compensated in full. Obviously serious questions must be asked over how this venture came to go bust, and if fund were misused the people responsible must face the consequences. But the last thing we want is to put arts organisations off collaboration with future Cities of Culture (Bradford in 2025, more in future years). Who’s going to want to invest a lot of money in a pop-up venue if there’s a risk an organisation you have no control over goes bust and loses your money? There are times we need to teach a lesson the hard way not to invest money is risky ventures, but this ain’t it.

So ultimately I have to agree with what William Burdett-Coutts wants, if for a completely different reason to the one he gave. We might be able to manage without a quarter of the big four, but loss of confidence in City of Culture would do a lot of damage. And that is the bigger picture we should not lose sight of.

Thursday 24th August – Cowboys and Lesbians:

This is a play with two parallel stories. In reality Nina and Noa are two girls at sixth form where nothing much happens in their lives. They have vague fantasies about their teacher, but all of the interesting stuff seems to be happening to everybody else. Meanwhile, in the wild west, where a damsel in distress trapped by her controlling brother needs a rugged stranger to take her away. The location is unspecified, because Nina and Noa are British, and as all Brits know, there’s only four parts of the USA: New York, Florida, California, and the bit in the middle named “Yeee-hah!” Getting Nina and Noa’s characters together in the Western is simple enough, getting Nina and Noa to admit their feeling to each other is harder.

The story is quite a slow burner, especially one of this side of reality. You have to wait quite a bit before the plot driver where Noa gets asked out on a date by another girl. To some extent, this is a deliberate choice. There is a tendency for stories about same-sex relationship to need to have something about it that defines it as same-sex, usually homophobia. Why can’t you just have a story about two teenagers getting together? However, with the imagined Western story also having little in the way of surprises (most of the story being structured in cliches, of course), we’re left with little to move the story along.

There were actually a couple of promising threads in the daft Western, such as Mary-Ann who rebukes the pastor trying to tell her that she deserves a better man because no better man looked that way. Comments on homophobia are played out in the Western world. But sadly these threads end before they’ve begun. What I thought was the missed opportunity, however was using the western story as projections. Surely the best way to learn more about Nina and Noa is if the characters they play in the western story are based on themselves more than they’re prepared to admit, or give themselves away as the girls they want to be. This was brought in towards the end of the play, but I think it could have achieved more if this was done earlier.

I’m not sure I picked up everything I was suppose to pick up here. The press release speaks of “the stunting and harmful effect of overwhelming heteronormativity and queer tragedising in mainstream movies, TV and theatre,” but I couldn’t work out what in the play was supposed to be talking about that. But, hey, I’m not the target audience for this, and since it’s been getting good review elsewhere, maybe the target audience got something I missed. The performances are good, and the two of them pull off the transition from ordinary sixth-formers to multiple larger-than-life characters in the West, without which the whole thing would fall apart. If the point of of this was that love stories in same-sex relationships can just be ordinary, that’s what it does, and the crowds drawn to this were after that, it did the job.

Wednesday 23rd August:

As is customary for the day after a fringe binge, my brain is flat and not yet in a position to embark on reviews. I hope to be moving again tomorrow.

One thing I will quickly plug though is Aidan Goatley’s 10 Films with my Dad. I don’t really review stand-up comedy because I wouldn’t know where to start. (I loved Alasdair Beckett-King’s set last year, but I didn’t review that because everything I could have said would have been subjective.) But I will raise the lovely ending of this routine. Aidan Goatley’s humour is generally wholesome, but the ending of the original of his 10 Films series is an inspiring moment of making time for your family. I’ll say that the Blue Brothers are involved, but if you want to know how, I’m going to make you go and see it. 7.40 p.m. at Voodoo Rooms.

And now, something completely different. Yet again, we’ve had Dave’s list of top ten Edinburgh Fringe jokes, and as usual this has been met with derision. This year, however, there’s been a of of scorn for the winning one-liner: Lorna Rose Treen with “I started dating a zookeeper, but he turned out to be a cheetah”. Some people think it’s not funny, but humour is subjective. I’m more of the camp that this joke doesn’t make sense. How can a zookeeper turn out to be an animal in the zoo?

However, in all fairness, I don’t think the problem lies with either the joke or the judging process. I just find the entire concept to be fundamentally flawed. I can’t think of a single one-liner in any list from any year that made me chuckle when I read it. But those jokes weren’t written to be read on a list of top ten one-liners; they were written as part of a stand-up routine. Maybe Lorna Rose Treen’s joke does work as part of the actual set, maybe it doesn’t. But with the hit rate of these one-liner lists being 0% (more or less), I cant believe these same jokes are getting a 0% for real in the Edinburgh Fringe venues where they’re being delivered.

Frankly, judging a comedy routine by a single joke seems as arbitrary as trying to judge a novel my a single sentence. A better approach might be to judge funniest moments instead of funniest one-liners, with a bit of context given as to the build-up of these moments. However, I’m coming to the view that these lists of one-liners are doing more harm than good – and judging by the scornful responses this time round, I’m not sure I would want to win this. Sorry Dave, but if it comes to a choice of a top ten jokes list as it’s currently done or nothing at all, I think I’m going for nothing.

Tuesday 22nd August, 10.00 p.m.:

And that’s it. TIme’s up. A total of seven days present, 35 performances seen, and I’m now on the train home after the end of my third and final visit. Thank you once again to everybody who trusted me with reviews. I will aim to get the remaining reviews written up by the end of next weekend. Priority will be given to shows that I think would benefit from an early review the most. Before writing any more conventional reviews, here’s a couple of shows that deserve a shoutout for very different reasons.

I’m aware there has been the odd debate over censorship at Edinburgh Fringe, but those examples are far and few between. Sometimes, it helps to put things in proportion, and even the nastiest cancel culture stunts pulls over here are nothing compared to the systemic censorship orchestrated by the Chinese government against its citizens. Even unflattering opinions about the Chinese Government expressed in another country can get you landed in jail. For this reason, I encourage people to see Olivia Xing: Party School, where a “party school” is not a high school from a shit frat comedy, but schools run by the Chinese Communist Party teaching how brilliant the Chinese Communist Party is. I don’t review stand-up comedy because I don’t know where to start, but this needs a mention for the courage of doing this at all. Olivia does a lot of talking with passion and conviction over the increase in authoritarianism in both China and the USA. She is worth listening to, and maybe, just maybe, there are lessons from this that apply to Britain too. Maybe even at the Edinburgh Fringe itself. 8.30 p.m, Just the Tonic at the Grassmarket Centre.

The other thing that earns a shout-out carries no risk of jail for wrongthink, but it might as well given by how terrified 95%+ of fringe artists seem to be to go anywhere near it. Some people, I swear, bang on and on and on about about every worthy subject such as racism bad and climate change bad and Tories bad – but they suddenly forget their principles and fall silent the moment there’s the tiniest chance that standing up to something obviously wrong night cause some of their friends to think less of them. But if it must fall to one person to have the courage to stat why anti-Jewish conspiracy theories are bad, I’m quite happy to leave it into the capable hands of Marlon Solomon. I saw Conspiracy Theory: A Lizard’s Tale, a show that focus on the insane conspiracy theories of David Icke. To an outside observer, that might seem batshit but harmless, like the flat earthers, but it actually gets quite nasty for one reason: most conspiracy theories usually end up with people blaming it on the Jews, regardless of what the conspiracy is. Nothing he says is particularly contentious, and anyone who’s been following this will have a pretty good idea of what to expect. But if you haven’t caught up on this, this is an articulate, engaging and humorous look at the dangerous world of conspiracy theories. Sadly, the people who should see this the most won’t, but perhaps the rests of us can wise up to this sooner. 1.40 p.m. at PBH Free Fringe, Little White Pig.

That’s all from me tonight. From tomorrow, it’s time to clear the remaining review and tie up some other loose ends.

Tuesday 22nd August, 6.30 p.m.:

There’s nothing on my recommendations list starting in week 3, but in my Durham Fringe shoes I have one show to mention. This is Chance from Sightline Productions, who did rather well at Edinburgh Fringe last year with Cottage. Chance follows the story of a teenager constantly shunted back and forth from normal education to special education by a system that doesn’t seem to know (or be willing to learn) what to do with him. Running 1.15 at Paradise at the Vault with last performance on the Sunday.

Err, that’s it.

Tuesday 22nd August, 1.00 p.m. – Ay Up, Hitler:

Before starting on this one, I do need to declare an interest here. Gamma Ray Theatre were very helpful to me last year in my investigations over The Warren, with their first-hand account of a group caught up in the venue’s collapse in 2022 (with, as it happens, the same show). I am aiming to review this with the same level of impartiality as everyone else; you can decide whether or not you believe me.

The other reason I chose this one is that this was the subject of a minor moral outrage when it got to Edinburgh. A comedy where Hitler and his chums fled Berlin and settled down in Yorkshire is no edgier than The Producers, but that didn’t stop some people getting furious over how offensive this must be to Jews. I know a lot of people in the arts who are Jewish or part-Jewish, and none of them have a problem with this – the more cynical side of me wonders if the people being offended of other people’s behalf are doing this is a substitute for standing up to things Jews actually have a problem with. But, whatever, I don’t know all the Jews in the world, maybe some Jews I don’t know do find this objectionable. So I was going to re-iterate my standard defence of “If you don’t like it, don’t watch it”, but actually, I don’t need to. There is a serious message attached to this play – and for reasons I will get to, the message only works as a comedy. (Warning: when I get to that reason, it will be a spoiler.)

But that’s jumping ahead. Let is start at the beginning. Going full-on Yorkshire with flat caps and Yorkshire dialects, we are introduced to Himmler, Gobbels and Goering, who break the secret that they actually fled Nazi Germany when the going got tough. But of course they wouldn’t up sticks to God’s own country without the main man, Adolf himself. Out goes “Heil Hilter” and in comes “‘Ay Up Hitler”. Hitler is less of a natural at blending in with the locals, still going around with Swastikas and toothbrush moustache, but no-one’s noticed for decades.

Oh, did I mention that they’ve also cracked the secret to immortality? Couple of down-sides to that one though. Eva Braun (was going to be played by Suella Braverman but she got a bit too enthusiastic about the Nazi bit of the role) also get the serum, and has never forgiven Hitler for promising he’d commit suicide straight after her. Winston Churchill also torments Hitler by pointing out that he might have done some bad things himself, but because he kicked Hitler’s butt, he gets a free pass on everything else. But the biggest problem is that nobody seems to want a fourth Reich. Adolf’s furious fist waving isn’t working, there’s no lost world war to blame on anybody, and this new woke culture is ruining everything. Jesus, these days you can’t even lay out in detail your plans for a new Final Solution without without the PC Brigade calling you a Nazi.

If there isn’t something to pick fault with, it’s a lack of structure. Until the end, the piece does feel like a collection of funny scenes, but none are essential. I understand why they felt the need to break the fourth wall when they did, but that confused things a little. However, the over-arching theme is poking fun at subsequent populist brands of racism, anti-Jewish and otherwise. Nobody is left out of this.

The most memorable part, however, is the ending. This is where we meet Boris Johnson (one of my favourite comic roles, holding two union jacks which talking bumbling sound-bite bollocks) and Donald Trump. (Side note: when this was done at Brighton Fringe, it was two PMs ago and Boris Johnson was Prime Minister. Adapted of course, but my, May 2022 seems like a lifetime ago.) There is a long-standing rule that the best way to distance yourself from a public figure you’re parodying is to portray the character as a loser. And until know, Hitler has been portrayed as a bumbling fool. But Boris Johnson and Donald Trump are also bumbling fools. And they did quite well out of it. And this is what the whole thing has been leading up to: a bumbling fool is a lot more dangerous than you think. And so, Ay up Hitler‘s appeal is not for the cringe comedy, as it would have you believe, but the chilling cautionary tale at the end.

Tuesday 22nd August, 10.00 a.m. – Tom Moran is a big fat disgusting liar:

One of the problems of this explosion of fringe shows of people talking about themselves (and based on the sample I’ve been getting through review requests, there certainly has been a rise) is that it’s next to impossible to pass judgement on the show without also passing judgement on the person who made the show. So far, I’ve managed to cover all the ones I’ve seen without needing to personalise it too much. However, within this category I have two pet hates. One is people who take what is clearly somebody else’s story and making it all about themselves (“that’s enough of hearing about this terrible thing about someone else, let’s talk at length about how it made ME feel”). The other is people who talk frankly about some really shitty things they’ve done to other people, but obviously aren’t really sorry – instead, it’s all about how this make me an interesting and complex character. Once I’d established Tom Moran was indeed talking about himself – and the title gives us a clue of where this is going – I was hoping it wasn’t going to be one of these.

But this is not a guilt-free confessional. It’s more like the opposite. The lies he refers to are mostly lies he told as a child who learned very quickly what you need to do to get the affection of your parents, teacher and church (being Ireland). It escalates to convolutes ways to pull sickies in the face of increasingly sceptical parents, and probably the worst thing confessed to was telling is parents he was being bullied by another kid (who was an arsehole but innocent of the crime charged). But from this point, it’s not about the lies that escalate, but the shame that escalates.

There is another thread to the story: the words “big”, “fat” and possibly “disgusting” are not metaphors used to describe a liar, but something more literal. It’s only 15 minutes into the set during the cat-and-mouse sickie game Tom mentions he was overweight. Unlike Spin, this was not a body positivity statement and Tom himself is open about just how dangerously overweight he was. That’s not mentioned again and we can safely assume that’s old news, but the escalating guilt goes on to dominate this story. He delivers a very convincing portrayal of an increasing gulf between how others see him and how he sees himself. And more more he becomes aware of the gap, the more shame he feels. Details of adult life are kept sketchier – the reason Moran gives is that he’s not yet made his peace with all of this – but by now the shame seems to be taking a life of its own.

I should give a caveat to this review, and indeed all the reviews I’ve seen of people talking about themselves, which is that I am assuming in good faith the stories I’m hearing are truthful. You don’t have to go into every detail, but I reserve the right to revisit any review if I find out somebody has been leaving out details that throws the whole story in a different light. That caveat established, the frank confessional is delivered well. It is scripted to arrange the story into peaks and troughs, and the lighting and sound used to support this is very effective. And the moral of the story is that it’s better to have one person believing in you for who who are than the world believing in you for what you’re not – as famously sung by the Muppets. And compared to the Big Brother contestants mentioned at the beginning who want to be loved for the caricatures they make themselves into, you can give me that any day.

Monday 21st August, 5.30 p.m.:

We’re off. 3 seen, 6 to go. As is customary, I will probably hold off writing any reviews until tomorrow. Should I write any reviews today, It’ll be because I’m raving about something.

Before we get stuck into reviews, now’s a good time to talk about the Playbill Cruise ship. It’s pretty much impossible to walk around Edinburgh without seeing adverts for a cruise ship that’s going to be in Leith Docks for two weeks next year for fringe visitors. This might seem like a daft idea, but there’s actually some sense to this. The problem Edinburgh has is that there’s an insane amount of demand for accommodation one month every year, and relatively little demand the rest of the time. This is a deterrent for anyone thinking of providing more accommodation – it’s not really worth the upfront investment to build/convert something that only brings in an income in August, unless you plan to charge through the nose that month. A cruise ship, on the other hand, can be taken to Edinburgh when the demand is there, and go back to cruises the rest of the time. Also, quite conveniently, there are now trams from Leith to the city centre.

Before you get too excited, however, I think this is going to be of more benefit to punters than performers – more specifically, punters wealthy enough to consider spending two weeks in Edinburgh on hotel prices. I’ve checked the prices, and it’s way outside the budgets of most of us mere mortals. I get the impression this is a luxury-end cruise liner which is keeping all the luxuries for the two weeks in Leith. Great for people after luxury stays, also good news for people in high-end hotels who might see the fall in demand bring prices down to something less insane. But for performers (and theatre bloggers), it will probably do little to address the supply/demand problem there.

In site of those scepticisms, I’m still in favour of this. Anything that’s done to reduce the pressure on Edinburgh accommodation has my vote. Even if only relieves demand on the most expensive accommodation, cheaper hotel prices might in turn take some switchers from digs/hostels/pods, and indirectly relieve some supply/demand there – marginally.

And if it works, maybe we’ll get more ships, covering a whole range of price bands. The worst it can do is be of no benefit. So it might be an unaffordable novelty for most of us, but there’s no harm giving this a try and see where it leads.

Monday 21st August, 12.30 p.m.:

Now, before we continue, there is a regrettable entry in the Chrisontheatre correction column. I have been trying to keep track of which recommendations on my list are beginning and what’s coming to the end, but I missed the deadline for the end of week 2. The Grandmothers Grimm and Call Mr. Robeson ended last weekend, but they finished on Saturday instead of Sunday, and by the time I realised it was too late. At least one of these has been selling out and doesn’t need my help, but apologies anyway for this oversight.

Actually, shows not running on Sunday has been catching me out quite a bit. One thing that struck me about my review schedule is how many shows don’t run on Sunday – and some requests have ended up missing out because of this (although at Edinburgh, one show’s loss is always another show’s gain). I can understand why you might need to do that if you’re running a single week – it’s logical to keep Sunday free for tech rehearsals is you’re starting on Monday. But even many shows opting for a full run are skipping Sundays. The conventional wisdom used to be that you’d start off with Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday in week 2, maybe again in week 3, and maybe Wednesday or Thursday in Week 1. (Monday and Tuesday in week 1 still remain busy at the traditional 2 for 1 days.)

Clearly something has changed in the eyes of performers and venues. But what? I’d always assumed Sunday beats Monday as a show day, but somebody doesn’t think so. What is the reason? Answers on a postcard please.

Monday 21st August, 7.30 a.m.:

Here I come, one more time. My last two days are going dropping from 5 performances per day to a slightly more relaxed 4.5 performances per day, and will have a slightly bigger emphasis on what I enjoy seeing over what I’m taking a chance on. Yet again, I’ve had to get up super-early for a super-early train, but I’m on it. That’s the final precarious bit of my itineary done, which means I’ll be making it to my final Bite-Size set.

See you soon; in the meantime, here’s one of my favourite pictures from last time.

Sunday 20th August, 9.30 p.m. – Otto and Astrid’s Joint Solo Project:

And finally from visit 2, I saw a character comedy. Otto and Astrid has previously been compared to Flight of the Conchords, and that’s a good summary of their humour for people new to this like me. So the premise is that Otto and Astrid are a pop duo called Die Roten Punkte, but after artistic differences they have decided to go their separate ways. They have to do a performance together though, because Astrid can’t get public liability insurance. Which is harsh but fair, because Astrid is the very embodiment of a public liability. She is a so much of a drummer diva she who makes Miss Piggy seem positively undemanding. Guitarist Otto, meanwhile, desperately wants to be seen by the world as a moody goth/emo type. But this is obviously an act, he’s really a complete softy who missed the comfort of performing with his sister.

In theory, this hour is going to be divided into two halves: Otto first, Astrid second. Yeah, right. Astrid does of course come barging in during the second song to set up. Astrid knows that Otto couldn’t get anyone for his new band, but Astrid’s band are also not coming, after having a quick meeting and opting to run a mile. Well, there’s no harm playing in each other’s songs. Let us be absolutely clear, they are NOT, I repeat, DEFINITELY NOT playing as Otto as Astrid – they are simply doing the backing for each other. Oh, and they know each other’s songs perfectly, having been glued to listening to each other practice, but this is ABSOLUTELY NOT to be taken a sign that they really want to play together again, okay?

Although this is a comedy act, the songs are actually pretty decent numbers in their own right. Otto and Astrid are proper musicians who perform tightly as a band, and (as is the case with most comedy songs) the tunes are just as good as any non-novelty song. Most of the songs have comedy lyrics, but the occasional song has quite serious lyrics. It’s funny because of the setting it’s being played in, but played by a different musician some of the songs could have been seen in a more serious light.

And do you know what? This is a surprisingly lovely hour, of a comedically messed up brother and sister who bicker and squabble but are really inseparable, however much they claim otherwise. And that’s really hammered home during a hug with lights down when Otto thinks no-one is watching. This is really comedy more than theatre, but it was still one of my favourite moments. This is still running up to the end of the fringe at 7.25 p.m. at Assembly George Square.

At that’s visit 2 wrapped up. Visit 3 is tomorrow. For the last time this year, here we go again.

Sunday 20th August, 7.00 p.m. – Brain Hemingway:

Every writer dreads writer’s block, but do you know what’s even worse? A special kind of writer’s block that manifests itself in the room you’re in as American 20th century novelist Earnest Hemingway. Our lead character, played by writer Erin Murray Quinlan, just can’t make any progress on her musical, and the theatre the commissioned her is running out of patience. And as inner voices are guaranteed to do, this voice is given her a right old put down, except that is starts off in Hemingway reciting his most famous quotes before moving on to telling her how she’s wasting her time.

I think it’s fair to say this play might respect Hemingway for his work, but certainly does not respect him as a person. As always, I’ll leave it up to argue whether or not the depiction is fair, but being divorced three times certainly isn’t a good sign. It seems that the take-home message is that out of all the famous authors who could be your inner voice, you’ve really drawn the short straw if you get Earnest. He’s an insufferable character, whose high opinion of his own work is only matched by his disdain for this author’s efforts. Hemingway is played by Erin’s own husband, giving her one withering put-down after another – some listing out of Hemingway’s life, some based on real quotes to her. It seems one or both of them are a real glutton for punishment here. Quinlan has also done a lot of research into his life, covering his travels, his works, various acts of cruelty against his wives, and finally, his suicide which – so he claims – was his choice as he’d run out of ways to be creative.

The problem with plays about writer’s block is that by their very nature they don’t have much of a story. The default plotline is that the writer spends ages trying to find a way forwards and nothing happens, until the end where a breakthrough may or may not be made. And, unfortunately, Brain Hemingway does suffer from this. What you really need to do is look for opportunities to introduce something extra. The obvious candidate here is the life of Earnest Hemingway. Erin Murray Quinlan clearly knows her stuff inside out, but this comes at the price of assuming we the audience have the same background knowledge. The other thing worth considering is the journey of this author. Why is Hemingway such a big deal to her anyway? The most likely reason I can see is disillusionment. Maybe she started off enamoured by his prose, and become progressively more jaded as she learned more about him in real life, and possibly how his real-life persona crept into his work. Whatever you consider, I very reliable playwriting rule is that your characters should change during a play. Exactly how they change is up to you: it might be an event that changes somebody’s outlook for good, it might reveal a different side to a character over the course of an hour, or we could learn how a character used to be different person. I don’t know how closely Quinlan wants to stick to real life (either her own or Hemingway’s), but there’s a lot of choices open.

The song “I won’t hold on,” however, is genuinely moving. Written to be sung by Hemingway’s first wife in a previous musical, where she has finally realised any further attempts to save the marriage are futile, this puts a whole new level of emotion into the play. That is where I think the strongest opportunities lie in the play. The concept of a writer with a very specific tormentor in chief is a sound concept – but I’m sure there’s opportunities to add something to this and bring it to another level.

Sunday 20th August, 4.00 p.m. – Atalanta:

I won’t tell a lie, one third of the way in to this musical I was growing sceptical. Atalanta in loosely based on the autobiography of one of the first female editors of a newspaper. It is 1969 and Sarina Lemonde is a new editor at the Atalanta Post. The paper is struggling financially, and everybody is hoping that the arrival of a film star will turn the fortunes around. It does, but not in a way anyone was expecting: Miriam is Sarina’s estranged mother, and perhaps as means of apology she puts in a big cash injection into the paper to secure its future – on the condition that Sarina owns controlling shares and becomes the company’s new president. That’s a promising enough opening, but the problem was that the opening is also cluttered by a sequence of seemingly unrelated events – none of which appeared to have any contribution to the direction the story was going.

Well, hold on. Atalanta is actually rather good. All of those seemingly irrelevant events we saw at the start are there for very good reasons, and it’s building up to one of the most intricate plots I’ve seen in any fringe show, musical or otherwise. Whether it’s because of the way she got the job or because she’s a woman, she goes into the post with a lot of enemies. Sometimes Sarina needs to be ruthless, but most of time she survives by winning the support and respect of her peers. The things we saw at the beginning that didn’t appear to have anything to do with the plot come back to bite Sarina: the marriage of convenience she has with her husband; an unexplained plane trip to France; an indiscretion that wasn’t her fault but nonetheless makes her a target for blackmail; and, ultimately, how another fleeting indiscretion combined with the allies Sarina built up works in her favour.

As I mentioned before, the problem with musicals at the fringe is that, unless you specifically write the songs to advance the plot, it goes on hold every time a song is running. Even with a 90-minute running time, this doesn’t leave much time to tell a story, which I think is why so many of the key events at the start of the play feel rushed. I spent a lot of time playing catch-up, but what’s critical is that I could catch up. Tip for writers: always allow some slack in your script, so that if audience missed something important in the play the first time round, there’s time to catch up later. This is what’s done here, and it spelt the difference between getting lost completely.

Edinburgh Fringe has been a good showcase for Harvard Dramatic Club, but I’m not sure the time constraints do the musical justice. Another 20 minutes could do a lot of good for the rushed exposition, enabling us to know more about Sarina’s complicated family arrangements and the fraught relationship she has with The Post‘s board and a competing form of nepotism. I understand this is a shortened version of a longer musical, so maybe this has already been done. Decent showing for the Edinburgh Fringe but it’s outside the fringe where I can see the most potential being unlocked.

Saturday 19th August. 10.30 p.m. – Lash – A Pulsating New Play About Going Out Out!

Lash is a play about a young man whose sole purpose in life is to finish work at Friday and then go out and get hammered and take drugs. Because he can. And he doesn’t see anything else going from him, on the conveyor belt of birth school work retirement dead. So, for this review, it is a bit unlucky for writer Jack Stokes and performed Philip Stokes (his son) that I saw this this the day after Bits’n’Pieces, which covered very similar themes in a bigger-scale play to a great standard. But there’s good things to say about this one too.

The story is that Sonny is going for another Friday night out on the lash, and go to a completely different world from work where it doesn’t matter how he behaves. Unfortunately, on this occasion, many of his work colleagues have chosen to go to exactly the same pubs and clubs he’s going to. Also, unbeknownst to him – and I’m not sure whether this counts as good news or bad news – some of them are just as much a bunch of piss-heads/coke-heads as he is. A lot of the story is the observations of the people around him. Sonny is better behaved than some lads, and is particularly disdainful of the homophobes and mobs of Andrew Tate-wannabes he encounters on his night.

However, there are some aspects of Sonny’s character that don’t really ring true. One of the problems which I’ve kept raising is putting manifestos of the writers’ views where it’s not plausible. It is conceivable that a lad on a night out might think the aforementioned Andrew Tate-wannabes are a bunch of wankers, but he also goes on to blame this behaviour of colonialism (more or less). That’s something I could believe coming from a guardian columnists – it’s not such a plausible piece of philosophy from a lad on the lash every Friday. Also (and maybe this is an unfair comparison based on one reviewer’s viewing list but …) after the powerful build-up and jarring switch from hedonistic party to tragedy, the climax of this play – falling on something sharp that might have been a knife but wasn’t – felt a bit of an anti-climax.

I have nothing to fault about the production values though. The late slot was ideal for this kind of show, and the co-ordination between performer, club lighting, sound scape and club music – something that’s far from straightforward. The pace is managed well and Philip Stokes is always engaged with the audience. In a head-to-head with Bits’n’Pieces, I’d have to rate Saltire Sky as the winner, but it puts in a decent second for the sometimes crazy and sometimes dark world of the lads’ night out.

Saturday 19th August, 5.30 p.m. – Spin:

I know, I know, we’re all sick of hearing about that year, but amongst the many crazes brought along in 2020 such as sourdough and conspiracy theories, there was the rise and rise is Peloton, which turned the exercise bike from a masochist pursuit at the gym to a ultra-cool lifestyle statement. Kate Sumpter plays an unnamed cycle instructor in a fitness centre, except it’s the 2020s and those words are cool enough. This is a “Spin Studio” and I didn’t catch what her job title was but it’s probably something equally pretentious like “Spin Inspirer”. Bangin’ choons start playing, we’re off, and she tells us all how amazing we all are, and then she goes into her own internal monologue about what this is like for her.

It starts off with her observation for the types that come here: from the social media whores after the perfect Instagram shot; to the bloke who rips off his T-shirt in the middle of the ride for no reason at all. Then her mind wanders to her greatest ambition: earning promotion to the coveted rank of “Spin Mega-Guru” (again, maybe not the exact words but you get the idea). For that, year, fitness levels and ability to be an instructor matter a bit, but what they really want from you is an inspirational back-story. She goes over her own back-story of how she used to be bullied for her weight and felt insecure, until Spin gave her a purpose, which she’s now passing on to those around her. But she’s giving away more than she realises. It becomes increasingly she’s forgotten any purpose in life other than the exercise bike. It’s become so much of an obsession, that being overweight makes her life so far a failure, but if she achieves her exercise goals she’ll be vindicated.

There was one thing I was unsure of at this point. Where exactly is this taking place? Is a Spin Studio one of the online exercise thing, or is this more like an in-person gym? Context suggest the latter, but then why is she revealing her inner thoughts to customers who absolutely cannot know that? However, it turns out she’s in neither of those places. The horns she was wearing in the poster and the flashing red lights might give you a clue of where she actually is – but it’s actually not that place either. I won’t say where she is because it’s more fun to work that out yourself, but it relates to the moment the bubble burst. Her obsession, affecting both herself and those around her, have unforeseen consequences. And a clever finish keep you guessing to the end.

If I have one criticism, it’s the same one I’m making for many plays I’ve seen at Edinburgh Fringe: show, don’t tell, please don’t squeeze in everything you have to say in a manifesto at the end. Our fitness fanatic friend may have had a revelation, but she’s not ready to list all the views of the author about this subject. And, in all honesty, this isn’t needed: there’s more than enough in Kate Sumpter’s writing to make the case without. But it does slowly bring in a message about how obsession with exercise peddles by marketers isn’t that difference from the way eating disorders can be put in fashion. One of the easiest tests when you’re seeing five shows a day is which ones stick in you mind the longest, and this is emerging as a clear winner. Running until the end of the fringe at 2.20 p.m., Gilded Balloon Patter Hoose.

Saturday 19th August, 11.30 a.m. – How to survive and thrive in an impossible world – with a piano!

There is a very long back-story to this project. Steve Bonham, one half of this duo with Chris Lyndon, came up with the concept when receiving treatment for cancer and saw how exhausted and stressed the NHS staff were. It began as a book (same title minus “with a piano”) written during lockdown, and this live performance offshoot came later, developed with hospitals in Derby and Burton.

In one way, it’s good to see something rise up the ranks by an unusual route of wellbeing sessions within the NHS. But there is one effect of this that you must be aware of: this does feel a lot more like a workplace health and wellbeing presentation than a theatre piece. There’s detailed roll-banners at the back, extensive background information in the programme and website, and I get the impression that the audiences in the two hospitals – where a wellbeing session would not be out of place – would be a lot more familiar with this. To give credit where it’s due, as a wellbeing presentation it seems to do the job well enough. Steve and Chris are engaging with the audience, it’s aimed to be fun, and there’s none of the condescension I’ve heard from various horror stories of bosses who use wellbeing session as a substitute for looking for anyone’s wellbeing.

However, this is billed as theatre, and judged on those terms, it struggles to show what it’s meant to be about. It suffers from a common problem of “concept overload”. There’s songs, background stories, conversations with an obstinate phone, audience participation, any many other things, but in an hour-long show there’s not really a chance to develop any of these and make them stick in the memory. One particular frustration is that the piano billed in the title doesn’t get that much use, when it could have been the defining feature that puts it all together.

My advice for a fringe show is to pick a few things to focus on, rather than touch lots of things. In this case, I would have lived true to the title, and structured it heavily around music and songs, probably with the five principles to live by at the other defining theme of the play. However, there is a planned tour coming up outside of fringe constraints, where Steve and Chris will be in a better position to have audiences more like the ones in the hospitals where this was developed. In which case, your call. If you think it’ll work as it is markets as a wellbeing show instead of theatre, then go for it.

Friday 18th August:

Right, can’t put it off any more. Time to discuss the elephant in the room. The Graham Linehan business. The update on yesterday’s news is that Comedy Unleashed found another venue, which also cancelled on them (not specified where but Comedy Unleashed isn’t arguing over that cancellation), and they ended up doing it outside Holyrood. Nor a particularly impressive audience, but I’d say the audience was about the same size as a typical Leith Arches audience. To be honest, however, this was going into the realms of publicity stunts. The bigger question is whether Graham Linehan and Comedy Unleashed carry of their threats to sue Leith Arches.

This is not the first cancellation controversy this fringe. The Stand has already capitulated against Joanna Cherry. In the end, the event that went ahead was pretty boring (there were some claims and counter-claims about her treatment at the event, but nothing significant), but Joanna Cherry got her way because case law has decided, rightly or wrongly, you can’t discriminate against someone simply for belief. However, there is a much stronger case against Graham Linehan. It’s not just his views; he has a track record of harassment against trans people (and people who don’t agree with him in general). We can debate individual allegations, but what is completely reprehensible is going on to a trans dating site in order to post images on trans people on line with derogatory comments about appearance. Edinburgh Fringe is an open festival but venues can take who they like. Speaking as a sort-of venue manager who has occasionally taken companies with trans people, I would not be comfortable having Graham Linehan in my venue. Hosting someone with views considered offensive by other people is one thing; bringing along someone who was at risk of harassing other people in the venue is quite another.

But the problem is, Leith Arches didn’t say “No, you can’t perform here because you have a track record of harassing trans people”, they said, “No, you can’t perform here because we don’t support your views.” Good grief, you’d have thought they’d have learned from The Stand not to do that. Perhaps if it goes to court, Leith Arches will claim that what they really meant was that they were concerned for the safety of their staff – but I’m not sure how kindly the courts react to adding reasons retrospectively. Even if Graham Linehan doesn’t have a case on protected beliefs like Joanna Cherry did (and there’s no way protected beliefs would excuse his despicable actions on that dating app), Comedy Unleashed may still nail Leith Arches on plain old breach of contract. If there wasn’t a cancellation clause for offensive material (and Comedy Unleashed would have to have been pretty stupid to have agreed to such a contract), they are going to be on very shaky legal ground.

The real problem, however, is that Graham Linehan doesn’t want a gig in an Edinburgh Fringe venue – he wants to be a martyr. Cancellation is a surefire route to martrydom; the correct way to avoid this is to not book that comedian in the first place. Now, one of these days I may go into more depth about Comedy Unleashed and why they’re not the champions of free speech they claim to be, but the short version is that they’re notorious for booking people as controversial as Linehan for shock value, and this is is known by anyone who’s been paying the slightest bit of attention. For God’s sake, Leith Arches, how could you have not known who Comedy Unleashed were? And how could not look at the graphic they’d supplied you without having a good idea who the “surprise famous cancelled comedian was going to be”? I don’t envy the position Leith Arches was in when they realised who’d they’d booked, but it took a staggering amount of naivety to get to that situation in the first place.

Meanwhile, other comedians and politicians are doing well out of being cancelled. Jerry Sadowitz’s entire three-show run is already sold out. Joanna Cherry’s event got masses of attention. Graham Linehan might not have got a big crowd for his impromptu set, but he did get a sympathetic hearing and mostly softball interview from journalists who don’t know any better what he’s really like. We can discuss the ethics of programming to moral purity another day. But for Christ’s sake, do pay some attention to what you’re programming the first time round. You’ll do your cause no favours by programme first and cancelling later.

Thursday 17th August – Junk Monkey:

Now it’s over to Seemingly Wholesome Productions with a solo play from Olivia McLeod from Australia. Olivia (also the name of the character) tells a story alternating between past and present. It begins at age ten when she had a moment of triumph. beating of tough competition to get her first boyfriend. Fifteen years and a substantial turnover of boyfriends later, Olivia is to her surprise head-over-heels with a girl she met on a train called May. After striking up a conversation, she discovers she’s an opera student, and following a lot of social media stalking establishes she has a recital tonight. Now all she has to do is guilt trip a work colleague into taking her shift tonight, forget the attend the event she promised her boyfriend, miss the deadline for the job she had weeks to apply for, guilt-trip her housemate into coming with her as a pretext for meeting May tonight, and a whole lot of other shambolic decisions. But it’s all for love, isn’t it?

However, I must warn you that if you were expecting an inspiration story that the secret to Olivia’s happiness is that being with a woman, this isn’t the way the story goes. A few flashbacks to Olivia’s past and past boyfriends reveals what the problem is. Olivia is constantly making rash decisions over the new love of her life. She gets over-excited at the thought of a new love, allowing wild speculation of imagined futures to go out of control (something she’s already doing with May), and on the rare occasions where she hasn’t made a poor choice of boyfriend, makes poor decisions that lead to break-ups. And she doesn’t seem to have learned any lessons this time round.

The good news for Olivia is that her pretext to bump into May again works, and even better, they get invited along to an after-party – which, somewhat out of character for a classical music recital, is a hedonistic riot involving karaoke, drugs and orgies. (Thinks: where are these parties and why was I never invited to them?) The bad news is that May has the wrong things in common with Olivia: she is also shallow and self-centred. And Olivia is about to find out the hard way this isn’t a good trait to share.

It’s a good monologue, with tight writing both in the delivery and the ill-fated 12-hour timescale the main story unfolds in. Olivia does remain a sympathetic character – even if you’ve stopped wishing well a terrible idea, you still hope that she might learn from this. The one thing that might have been done better is something I’ve said about a lot of productions this fringe, which is doing more “Show, don’t tell”. Olivia has a sudden realisation at the end that she’s gets over-excited about the prospect of a new love and doesn’t think things through, but if this could somehow be written into her train of thought whilst embarking one disastrous relationship after another that could be stronger – although I accept that would be difficult to write. Well delivered, engaging – just don’t except the LGBTQ+ equivalent of a Richard Curtis tale.

Wednesday 16th August – Havisham:

The Graham Linehan debacle won’t be going away any time soon. I am keeping an eye on this, but my comment will have to wait. We must get on with these reviews.

So now I move on to Havisham, created by Heather Alexander as her follow-up to Room. Having already seen her do a fine Virginia Woolf, I expected her to be as ideal Miss Havisham, and it does indeed work. An elderly Miss Havisham is in her wedding dress, and it stuck in a cycle of trauma. Once more, she must relieve the early years of her life, from childhood the the fateful wedding day. The obvious question on everyone’s lips, is what made her into the cruel and vengeful spinster we know today? Why did she turn bad?

The obvious motive for her revenge plot could only be treatment at the hands of numerous men throughout her life – innocent Pip, after all, is to be punished for the crimes of other men that he would never have done himself. The backstory in Great Expectations is that she was swindled out of her inheritance by her husband-to-be and her illegitimate half-brother conspiring together, but this goes all the way back to a neglectful father, with a lot of people who wronged her in between. It begins with separating her from a beloved doll and goes downhill from there.

The other half, however, is more a part of Alexander’s imagination. The religiously conservative society she is brought in relentlessly calls her a “bad girl”, almost always over things that either don’t matter or things done to her. There is a cleverly-introduced parallel to Medusa, originally mistaken by Havisham to be an angel – as time goes on she identifies more with a fallen woman turned bad by what was done to her. Only Havishman’s aunt shows any signs of kindness – but unfortunately she spends too much time globe-trotting to look after her niece when needed. Ultimately, there’s a lot reasons why she ends up living down to expectations.

I do need to mention that at this first performance, part of the ending was lost due to the final tech cue being played early by mistake. It didn’t actually matter that much, because the themes at the end are covered enough earlier in the play to fill in the gaps. However, the more I revisit the plot of the original, the more I wonder about ending the story at the wedding. I’m not saying there should be a blow-by-blow account of the rest of the story, but there is an important bit where Havisham originally adopts Estella (someone she met earlier in this play) wanting to protect her – the plan for revenge came later. But most of all, I think this could have done with the final chapter of Havisham’s anguish. Her plan to break Pip’s heart works – but it doesn’t make her happy. Perhaps the worst feeling of all is guilt. Maybe this can find its way into a post-fringe longer version. But it’s worth seeing as it is for a portrait of the making of Dickens’s most prolific tragic villain.

Tuesday 15th August:

Oh great. Just got back to have a relaxing day, when I foolishly thought to myself we’d not had any controversies yet and might make it to the end of the fringe without one. Oh no, you naive fool. It’s Jerry Sadowitz mark 2. Except this time the subject of cancellation is Graham Linehan. Now, in my opinion there’s a much stronger case against Graham Linehan than there is against Jerry Sadowitz or Joanna Cherry, but venues never seem to learn and another one. has made the same mistake as Pleasance and The Stand: if you’re going to cancel artists, don’t book them in the first place. I’ll go into more details another day, but the short version is that Leith Arches has given Graham Linehan the martyr status he craves at Edinburgh Fringe. Idiots.

But that can wait. I need to get on with a backlog of reviews. I hope to have caught up by this weekend; and, as always, press ticket reviews (most of what I see) get priority. I will also try to prioritise runs that are finishing soon. Thank you again for putting trust in me giving an honest opinion of your shows; thank you also for bearing with me.

This is the time that I would be giving a list of recommendations starting this week, but there’s actually a surprisingly short list. We have:

Nation: Saw the play at Buxton Fringe. The adventures of a man with varied adherences to the law hiding out in Paris and mixing in with the fringes of society. 12.30, Greenside Riddles Court until the end of fringe.

Havisham: Heather Alexander, who impressed we with the concept of a dramatisation of an essay with Room has a new play about Charles Dickens’s famous tragic villain. Saw this on the first night, review coming soon.

And in my Durham Fringe promoter shoes, there’s only one of ours this week, which is Rompers. They’re a surrealistic sketch comedy duo with another duo called Cowstools. 11.05 p.m., Just the Tonic Nucleus, until Sunday.

Err, that’s it. And now, I might get a proper night’s sleep.

Monday 14th August, 11.00 p.m.:

And finally tonight … what does Edinburgh Trams to Newhaven mean for Edinburgh Fringe? Until last year, the trams went west of Edinburgh. Great if you’re going to Murrayfield Stadium or the Airport, not so great for destinations fringegoers might want. Leith, however, is a substantial population centre. There is currently a massive capacity squeeze for accommodation. Could Leith become an option, with performers travelling into Edinburgh on the new tram link?

Sadly, it’s probably not going to make that much of a difference. Accommodation in Edinburgh is already saturated across the entire city. Never mind Leith, people are already travelling in from outlying towns into Edinburgh to keep this affordable. Heck, there’s even stories of people opting for Glasgow. The one small benefit this will deliver is making travel to and from Leith/Newhaven easier for those going that way.

Where there might be an opportunity, however, is decentralising venues. There is very high demand for venues in central Edinburgh, and high demand drives up prices. Venues in the suburbs are out of the question for most people – artists like Saltire Sky whose reputations is good enough to draw punters away from central Edinburgh are the exception. But give an easy way of getting to and from Leith and maybe that’s a game changer. I have my doubts over whether the trams are any quicker than the buses, but what’s important is that tram routes are easy to understand. And for visitors to the city, that’s important.

Or it might be that the walk from Old Town to new Town to reach a tram stop will still be too much hassle for most people. And a tramway into the Old Town would be a bugger to build and is a long way off. Trams could potentially help the fringe in a lot of ways, but it won’t solve the capacity crunch with accommodation. Until that’s solved, everything else is small fry. Should it be solved, however, then we’re in business.

Monday 14th August, 10.00 p.m. – Bits’n’Pieces

Next on my list it’s Satire Sky, whose production of 1902 was a big hit in 2021. I didn’t see that until later because getting to Leith was too much of a hassle. Satire Sky have opted to remain in Leith for this follow-up, but luckily, it’s become easier to get to Leith thanks to the newly-opened tram extension. More about that and what it means for the Edinburgh Fringe later. There’s a good reason for the choice of Leith though: Saltire Sky are good at putting productions on in non-traditional spaces. Even when they did 1902 at The Laurels, they opted for a bar area over the actual theatre. This time they’ve gone for Leith Arches, which is the perfect spot for an underground rave.

Tommy, Mattie and Dougie are lifelong friends. The play begins with the escapades that the three of them got up to together. However, in their eyes, at age 25 they’re already over the hill. It’s now down all the way, hence why going out, partying, and taking drugs is the only real appeal in their lives. Out of the three, Mattie has made the most ill-advised decision in his life, ranging from relationships to abortive careers, but he finally sets his mind on being a fighter pilot. Tommy and Dougie vow to give him the best send-off before he goes, and to their delight discover that Edinburgh’s leading classical venue, Usher Hall, is holding an event until 5 in the morning of a leading rave artist. It’s a no-brainer.

Unlike 1902, which was written to work with no sound or light plot, here the things are integral. You do need to concentrate to follow all the words being spoken, but don’t worry if you don’t – you’ll pick up enough. Music slowly starts building up, with the excitement building up for the big event. Ushaw Hall has, somewhat unwisely, made no serious attempt to stop people taking drugs in the toilet. Matty gets tested for drugs once a week, but that’s okay, Google says MDNA is good because it leaves the body quickly, right? To understand why people would do something do dangerous, you need to understand what you gain from doing it, and this culminates in the sort-of-interval of this play where everybody’s invited to get up for a head-bang.

If there’s one thing you could criticise Bits’n’Pieces for, it’s a little derivative of Trainspotting. Writer Nathan Scott-Dunn chooses not to ape Trainspotting’s shock value (right decision, here it would have been sock value for the sake if it), but it does closely follow for format of explaining why taking drugs seems a good idea, and then showing why it really really isn’t. The second half starts with Tommy and Dougie reminiscing on the amazing night they had – but something is already badly wrong. One message of the play was meant to be about misinformation. I’m not sure I picked up all of that – this was one of few few bits where the talking got too fast to follow what it was about. However, the theme that does come across is the gutter press interviewing people, caring little about anyone’s welfare, merely looking for who’s best to vilify.

The stand-out performance is Christine Russell-Brown. playing a range of female characters. At one end is the hard-as-nails clubber, but the best performances were the mothers of Dougie and Matty: both protective of their sons in different ways; both face with devastating repercussions from that night out. But as with 1902, there’s great performances throughout the cast as well as the upstairs DJ. Bits’n’Pieces isn’t the easiest location to get to, but it’s well worth the journey.

Monday 14th August, 2.00 p.m.: Alexander Klaus, the one-legged shoemaker man:

Before reviewing this one, it’s worth a bit of disclosure about how my reviews work. Somewhat counter-intuitively, the content of press releases doesn’t have much effect on what I choose to review. I like to review a cross-section of what’s going at the Edinburgh Fringe, rather than the best of Edinburgh Fringe – as such, I don’t go out of my way to shortlist what’s the best. If several plays are competing for a timeslot, I might have a good look as a tie-breaker, but if you got my attention from an interesting title or publicity image (and your timeslot works in your favour), I might not have read the press release at all. Or I might have decided I’m going to see you based on the press release, but by the time of the performance have forgotten everything about it apart from time, venue, and (usually) title. I’m more likely to refer to a press release after seeing the play to check details or see what the intention of the play was. Anyway, all of this is a long-winded way of saying that you should assume I’m reviewing your play as someone who know nothing and doesn’t know what to expect.

This meant that I went into Alexander Klaus not knowing what to expect, and five minutes in assuming this was one of the many solo biopics on the fringe – and indeed, you can go a long way into this piece believing it to be the case. But Alexander (nicknamed “Sander”) is actually a fictitious character. The setting and historical events are real though, and writer/performer Christian Hege has gone through a lot of trouble to research this. Teenage Klaus loses a leg in the American Civil war, and ends up working for a shoemaker in New York. But when the Confederacy is defeated, the Union’s problems are far from over. The veterans return home, but the jobs aren’t there. Poverty is rife, safety at work is nonexistent, life is still cheap, and riots are frequent.

Where does “Sander” Klaus fit into this? For a lot of the monologue, it appears to be a story of living with PTSD. That, however, turns out to be only a feeder to the main theme. Klaus develops a side-line in making toys. When loses his beloved family and he embarks on a fruitless search to meet them, he ends up giving toys away as gifts. If you haven’t already twigged, read the name out loud again. The toys. The big white beard. The love for his own daughter stretching to a love for children in general – all at a time when one toy means the world to some children. Yes, this is a clever fictionalisation of a new Santa Claus origin story.

However, I do feel Hege held his cards too close to his chest here. The challenge with biopic plays (and plays that sound like biopics) is that this can end up with a focus on one event. Then the next event. Then the next event. Then the next event. My instinct is that the Santa Claus parallel should be introduced from the start. An elderly veteran who’s missing a leg is not that unusual – but what if he introduced himself by offering a toy to a needy child? There is a counter-argument that you will lose the opportunity to surprise the audience later, but my feeling is that a teaser to keep the audience interested in the rest of the play is more valuable. How is a man struggling to support a young family in New York a Santa Claus origin story? Still, even with the structure as it is, it’s a lovely concept. Hege paints an in-depth portrait of a city struggling with the aftermath of a civil war, and puts into it a welcome celebration of kindness.

Monday 14th August, 11.00 a.m.:

Now, here’s one thing I’ve suddenly realised. Anyone who was around last year will remember how heavily the Big Four were pushing edfest.com. The Big Four have been running a joint publicity and ticketing operation for years (the best known and most controversial being the “Edinburgh Comedy Festival” branding). However, last year some big names were added to this: Just the Tonic, Zoo, Dance Base and – most eyebrow-raising – Summerhall. With so much of the publicity being the best curated programme in Edinburgh. Speculation arose from people hoping/dreading this was preparing to break away from official Edinburgh Fringe with edfringe.com.

This year, however, it’s all gone quiet. I had a look to see what edfest.com currently shows. It’s still there, just not being so heavily publicised. The line-up has changed though. As expected the Big Four are still there. Zoo and Just the Tonic are also still there. However, Dance Base and Summerhall – the two most heavily curated venues – have left. And the unexpected change: theSpace is in. This is unexpected because theSpace is not a (fully) curated venue – much of its programming works on first come first served. I will stress this yet again: it is vital there are venues that programme that way. But it’s not somethig you would expect from a line-up that was making such a big deal of curation last year.

This doesn’t mean a breakaway won’t be attempted, but I think it does make it a lot less likely. I have my doubts over whether curation as per Big Four is that much better in quality than open programming, but if that was ever indented as a selling point, it isn’t now. And we can probably safely rule out a breakaway geared at turning Edinburgh into a vetted festival. That, I maintain, would be a huge step backwards for a festival that, for all its faults, plays a vital role in giving everybody a chance. And with so much uncertainty created during 2022, this is a complication I’m happy to do without.

Monday 14th August, 9.00 a.m. – The Importance of Being … Earnest?

I first reviewed this for Brighton Fringe 2021. It was supposed to a streamed version of the live show they were doing that year, but for various reasons I ended up looking at an early version to a smaller audience, presumably pre-2020. (To the best of my knowledge, Say It Again Sorry do not run highly-illegal lockdown-breaking events, but I’ll let you know if I spot Piers Corbyn in the audience.) It’s never quite the same as watching in person though, and also I’d been told the show has been updated since then. So I have now checked this out. You’ll need a pretty good memory to notice what’s changed, but the few things have have changed – particularly towards the end – are changes for the better.

The central premise, however, is the same. Algernon and Lane are discussing champagne and cucumber sandwiches, awaiting the eagerly-anticipated arrival of Earnest. Or rather (giving the cheers of the people who already know what to expect), the eagerly-anticipated non-arrival of Earnest – this actor has decided he’s got something better to do. Only one thing for it – someone from the audience will have to step in. In this case, it’s somebody who obviously doesn’t know the Oscar Wilde play at all. With no available copies of the script, the rest of the cast have to find various ways to prompt replacement Earnest through the play.

This is a miked up play – I generally don’t encourage this, although I accept that the logistics of this might make it necessary. But if you’re going to do this, it’s compulsory to have the bit where they forgot to turn off the mics in the wings – in this case, Cecily abandoning the performance before her first appearance in Act 2. Also absent are Dr. Chasuble and Miss Prism, necessitating more improvised solutions and more stand-ins with the audience. In the original version this ended up taking a life of its own, with the more and more members audience taking on roles invented on the spot, until the entire audience are on stage – but sadly you can only fit a finite number of people on stage and in this larger version this excess had to be cut.

There’s a couple of things the reworked version does better though. One weakness I see with most plays about putting on plays – even greatest hits such as Noises Off – is that they keep sacrificing character plausibility for gags. This version of Earnest? gets a lot more disciplined. Much as I loved Lady Bracknell’s question to replacement-Earnest of “How would you rate your ability to satisfy Gwendolynn in the bedroom on a scale from 1-10”, that isn’t really compatible with her character of a no-nonsense veteran actress (who has no problem with a tipple before performance, but just a tipple – unlike freshly-dumped Gwendolyn), so this has to go. The main change, however, is winding up the ending. Again, most play-within-play plays lose track of running a plot at the end. Now, however, we have a climax to the plot. Which Earnest do we prefer? Original Earnest or replcement Earnest? (Spoiler: original Earnest makes the choice very easy for us.)

There will always be a place in my heart for Three’s Company’s The Importance of Being Frank, with a similar level of audience interaction, only this time it’s a question to prevent a descendent of Jack and Gwendolyn starting World War Three. But this is the play that made it, and it’s in a similar spirit. For all the madcap chaos, it takes a lot of origination to carry something like this off. This is comedy first and theatre second, but it’s good fun whatever your level of Wilde expertise.

Sunday 13th August, 9.00 p.m. – The Big Bite Size Breakfast Show:

One thing I haven’t yet covered is the return of Bite Size. To recap, what started off as the smallest of small-scale productions in 2006 grew to become one of the biggest-selling returning events at the Pleasance. In the years leading up to 2018, they ran to near sell-outs in Queen Dome, and in 2019 finally moved to a bigger space. Then came that event. In 2022, when Edinburgh Fringe was mostly back to normal, Bite Size was not amongst the returnees. It seems this was one of the many groups that had fallen apart in the down period of 2020-2021. There was one cause for hope though: the founder Nick Brice did a talk on the Bite Size story, billed as a fundraiser for a possible return. And now, Bite Size are back, after a gap of three years eleven months.

One important change to Bite Size was the transition to a true ensemble company. In the early days the only constant force was founder Nick Brice. In the late 2010s, however, the same actors came back year on year and took an increasingly big role in the artistic direction. Crucially – in spite of the departure of long-standing stalwarts Billy Knowelden and Cassandra Hodges – most of the ensemble has held together. I’m not sure Bite Size would have had so much longevity without being this sort of team.

But … even if you can bring an ensemble back, audiences have a nasty habit of forgetting about you if you’re away to long. Could Bite Size hold on to their audience as well as their actors? It turns out the answer is yes. It’s hard to make an exact comparison is they’re in a different space from 2019, but my general impression is that it’s about the same. The photo above is from the Monday of week 1 – if any performances were going to sell out it was the 2 for 1 days, and it is. Rest of the performances appear to be close to full but not sell-outs. Looks like their reputation has a long shelf life.

One small but interesting detail I noticed is that they’ve kept the arrangement for the furniture for all 16 plays to be at the back of the stage. My understanding was that in 2019, this was done entirely out of practicality as that’s where their set was being stored. This time, however, I believe they are going through the trouble of arranging everything for each performance. I liked this touch, as the furniture at the back serves as a teaser for what’s still to come – and I guess the Bite Size team thought the same.

As usual, I’ll save my list of plays I rate the most until I’ve seen all three sets – I’ve currently only seen two. However, the one I will pick out now is The Improv Class. It looks like an Improv class from hell where the instructor has a favourite and the other one has to go along with everything he say. But there is more to meets the eye, and this takes dark turn I never saw coming. That’s part of menu 2, so if you only have time to see one, pick that one.

Right, 4 plays seen today, one to go. Time to move again.

Sunday 13th August, 4.00 p.m. – Rites of Passage:

This is an unusual play to review, in that what’s being performed is quite different from what was originally planned. Luntu Masiza and Oliver Van Dan Hende are RADA graduates who originally developed separate projects talking about the lives: one in post-Apartheid South Africa to Birmingham and again, and the on a journey starting and finishing with the French diaspora in Cambodia. There is no crossover between the two timelines, but it was decided to present both stories together, with the two of them observing and interacting with each other’s narration.

It would not be unreasonable to doubt the workability of two different stories in the same play – but this works much better than you might think. By accident more than anything, there is a strong common theme through both stories of teenagers and young men navigating worlds full of pressure to masculine ideal. The forms it manifests itself in vary hugely, but it’s rarely a force for the better. Oliver’s story begins with a proud moment for his father when as a child he achieves a seemingly impossible dive to retrieve a lost fishing spear, but after that it goes downhill. Whether it’s the same father later cajoling his son to settle differences by fighting, or posturing within an inner-city, the pressure to be a “real man” doesn’t do much good. Even when there’s pressure for something not traditionally masculine – in this case playing the cello – the ultra-competitive nature of a son doing his father proud is not healthy.

There are echoes of Athol Fugard in this writing. This might not be a coincidence – Luntu Masiza was directed by John Kani in The Island, and John Kani was one of Fugard’s principal collaborators. Either way, the South African part of the script has a lot of nuance over the complex relations to race. Immigration law in the UK (and the limbo many people are left in) plays a part in the story here, but a less expected thread is prejudice from Black British for Black non-British, which I had no idea was a thing. I’m sure Athol Fugard and co would approve.

There’s just one problem with with this. When you have two intertwining monologues, the expectation is always that they will eventually interact. What happens when Luntu and Oliver’s paths finally cross. Instead, just as things are starting to get really interesting … it ends. Probably not much you can do about that, because you’re yet again constrained by real life. (I suppose you could have the two of them agreeing to collaborate on this project, but I wouldn’t recommend it as it would probably come across as self-indulgent.) Other than that, it’s a good job done, and an impressive standard of writing.

Sunday 13th August, 9.00 a.m. – Mr. Fox:

And the very last review from visit one is something I’ve been trying to catch for a couple of years. Polis Loizou’s piece did very well at Buxton Fringe 2021, and after missing so many interesting-looking Off-off-off-broadway plays in previous years, I was determined to catch this one. Spolier warning for this one

This is a solo play and story within a story – with a difference. Mr. Fox itself is a little-known piece of folklore (not to be confused with Fantastic Mr. Fox, unless the nemesis of Boggis, Bunce and Bean has kept a sinister past very quiet). Lady Mary lives a luxurious life in her home with her brothers. She is intelligent, capable, and also going a good job of working her way through the entire aristocracy. Until she meets Mr. Fox, for whom she falls head over heels. And then, days before the wedding, she grows a little suspicious of the fact he knows so little about her true love, and so does a little bit of investigating.

The Mr. Fox story itself is told in Loizou’s own style which is easy to recognise. The narrator he plays, however, is also a shady character. Confronts by a journalist or blogger or something over a scandal he’s implicated in, it quickly becomes clear he has a disdainful attitude towards poor people. Also women, although to start with, it’s possible his contempt to with one particular woman who got in his way; by the end, however, it’s enough to make even Andrew Tate say “Whoah, steady on, that’s a bit much.” At the end of the Mr. Fox tale, with his plot exposed, and plotting to murder your sister generally looked on dimly by aristocratic gentlemen, Mr. Fox gets his comeuppance. But, just a second – did our narrator just say Mr. Fox is the victim?

Yes, Polis is an engaging storyteller of the folklore, but his real strength of this is the character he plays on stage who starts off talking calmly and rationally, but who turns out to be completely insane, especially towards the end when he’s obviously guilty and he’s digging himself into a deeper hole. There’s only one thing that doesn’t quite make sense, and that’s the way the story within the story is focused on an sympathetic towards Lady Mary (as per the original), when the person telling the story turns out to not be on her side at all. We’ll have to put that one down to artistic licence. Other than that, this does not disappoint, and its acclaim earned at Buxton Fringe two years ago is deserved.

Saturday 12th August, 9.30 p.m. – Casting the Runes:

Phew. Another 5-play day today, which I want to start writing up tomorrow. Before then, let’s see if I can wrap up what I saw last time round.

So, let’s move on to Box Tale Soup. You need an excellent track record to go straight to Safe Choice in my picks, but Antonia Christophers and Noel Byrne have done plenty over the last few years to show that they’re safe bets. They first made their name for themselves with the gentle Austen story Northanger Abbey, but even that showed potential for a side-interest they have in gothic horror. This has become more prevalent in their recent productions, and their latest production has embraced the suspense and tension like no other.

Casting the Runes is probably the least well-known of all the stories Box Tale Soup has adapted into their signature format, but it was still an idea choice for them. Originally a short ghost story written in 1911, it follows Edward Dunning a lecturer and sceptic dedicated to debunking the supernatural. He’s made many enemies, but unfortunately one enemy he was mistaken to make was Mr. Karswell. The last enemy of Mr. Karswell, John Harrington, died under mysterious circumstances – and as time goes by it increasingly looks like he placed an ancient curse on both men. Only his last victim’s brother is on to his occult ways – can he find a way of outwitting Karswell before it’s too late?

In common with many of their adaptations, Christopehrs and Byrne play the lead two parts, with puppets playing the supporting characters. Noel Byrne plays Edward Dunning, and Antonia Christophers plays what’s now John Harrington’s sister. The two of them are very much working to their strengths here, but it pays off handsomely. It starts off very much in the easily explained rational world that Edward Dunning is used to, but progressively makes a transition to the stranger – at first, within the realms of trickery, but as time goes on, it become less explainable through rational thought and increasingly moves into the supernatural.

This isn’t quite the first time Box Tale Soup have done this play. It’s been done before, but the reviews weren’t that great the first time round. I get the impression that this play, unlike their others, is very critical on getting some stage effects right (see this and you’ll understand why), and perhaps the first time round it wasn’t quite pulled off. But this time round it was pulled off flawlessly, with an exquisitely-executed jump scare towards the end. It’s a bold concept, and you really need to know what you’re doing to pull this off, but Box Tale Soup certainly do.

Saturday 12th August, 3.45 p.m:

I’ve now had my first visit to Greenside Infirmary Street. Greenside is amongst what I consider to be ten major venues. In Brighton and Buxton there had been lots of changes in the last decade; and yet in Edinburgh, this is rare. It is news when a major venue moves out of its main location, and this is one of those moment. 2023 is the last fringe where Greenside operates out of its main hub on Infirmary Street. Next year, the building (known as the South Bridge Resource Centre outside of August) is probably going to be part of this new Fringe Community Hub. And not everybody’s happy with this.

Some of the criticisms are ones I consider unfair. Why spend £8 million on a fringe hub? Why not the artist?. A subsidy to artists would, I think, have been a mistake. If you divided that money to artists over 10 years, that would be about £250 per entry – which is peanuts for an Edinburgh Fringe budget. Worse, Edinburgh Fringe exists in an equilibrium. Throw money at making it affordable, more people can afford to go, demand squeezes supply any more, prices go up, and you’re back to square one. And when it’s gone, it’s gone. Hence the case for making a capital investment: something that is a one-off expenditure, maybe a costly one, but once you have it, you have it for good, delivering benefits. At least, that’s the case in theory.

What it unclear is exactly what benefit this delivers. The South Bridge Resource Centre is already a community hub. At least one of the groups that is resident there is going to be staying in the fringe community hub, and other groups could too. I really like the idea of Edinburgh Fringe giving something back to the community the other eleven months of the year – but I’m struggling to see what the Fringe Community Hub is giving that the South Bridge Resource Centre doesn’t.

The one thing that does appear to be of a benefit is a permanent location for Fringe Central. Anyone who’s taken part in Edinburgh Fringe in any capacity knows how useful as resource this is, but they’ve never managed to secure a permanent location and it keeps moving about. So yes, a reliable Fringe Central location will be a good thing – but I’m not convinced the hassle of relocating Greenside is worth it. Apart from Fringe Central, I’m not sure exactly what they’re trying to achieve. The most cynical interpretation is that the Government and Edinburgh Fringe decided on a capital investment once, and tried to think of something to do with it later.

Who knows, maybe the best thing for Edinburgh Fringe would have been to invest in the alternatives to Edinburgh. Or I might come back in 2024 and see benefits I hadn’t realised were coming. As always, we’ll see.

Saturday 12th August, 8.30 a.m. – Character Flaw:

Apologies, lengthy preamble needed on this one.

I might be going easy on performances where perfortmers talk about themselves, but I made an effort to see this one. Much as I’m wary about calling pieces “important”, I’ve said before that it’s important that neurodivergent people get to talk about themselves in theatre – and it’s especially important to do this in open festivals such as Edinburgh. Curated programmes are liable to be curated to whichever depiction validates what the programmers already think, but in the open festivals, eveybody is free to tell it like it is.

The other thing to declare upfront is that I’m revewing this from the perspective of someone on the autistic spectrum (which will come as no surprisen to my regulars who are used to be banging on about this. Phillipa Dawson’s performance is about ADHD rather than autism, but there’s a nit overlap between the two, and some people are diagnosed with both. In fact, one of the reason I wanted to see this was to get an idea of what’s different and what’s the same. Short answer: this is going to be a complicated one to unpick. But that’s enough about me. We are supposed to be reviewing a play here.

So … Character Flaw is a rare example of a performance that is classed as theatre, but could also have been classed as stand-up comedy (albeit heavily choreographed stand-up comedy). Pip arrives on stage late for her own show – the message from the outset that organisation is not Pip’s strong point. Pip goes into stories of various mishaps brought upon by her wandering mind, frequently involving not listening to platform alterations, not reading labels about plant/cat poison (don’t worry, the cat was okay) and leaving baths running. A character introduced early on is Pip’s wandering mind. In fact, a lot of the script is controlled by the voice in her head changing the subject to something completely different in mid flow.

The danger of this type of self-deprecation is that, if you’re not careful, you can end up validating stupid prejudices. However, Character Flaw does more than enough to steer clear of this. Dawson wisely rounds out her on-stage character to be more than a neurodivergence, with her list of things to achieve also playing a heavy role in the story. Late on, however, the performance makes a big point of steering away from “Oops, what am I like?” when things really do get overwhelming.

From a theatre perspective, of there’s one thing I would change, I would bring the themes at the end forward a bit. We don’t, for example, hear much about the positive side of “hyperfocus”. The bit at the end about going on medication and losing the inner voice does potentially carry a powerful message that taking away that bit of you is more like taking away the whole person – my hunch is that a lot more could be said that. But we are working within the constraints of real life, and if it doesn’t work that way, it doesn’t. Like many autobigraphical monologues, it’s a memoir and manifesto first and play second, but it does what it set out to do, both in the script and the production values. Worth seeing.

Friday 11th August:

We are approaching weekend 1. This is becoming an unofficial “half-way” point of Edinburgh Fringe, because lots of slots in spaces are split into two: one show running weeks 0 and 1 (usually starting on Wednesday in week 0) and another for weeks 2 and 3. So normally I would be posting alist of what’s finishing this week.

Surprisingly, however, there’s only one thing in my pick list that’s ending this weekend, and that’s Mr. Fox. This is a story-within-a-story from Polis Loizou of wealthy heiress Lady Mary who marries a mysterious with a lot of a skeletons in his cupboard (and I’m not necessarily being metaphorical here) – but the man telling this story has secrets of his own. Review coming, in the meantime you can read one from Richard Stamp. Last performance on Saturday, Paradise at the Vault, 4.55 p.m.

Ending slightly later (Wednesday next week) is Salamander, set in the 1980s when the Police finally start reaching out to sex workers trying to gain their trust – but the sex workers are used to looking out for each other, and there’s also a woman with troubles who you didn’t expect. Sold very well last year, Assembly Roxy, 6.55 p.m.

And in my Durham Fringe shoes, a reminder that we’ve got five of mine ending this weekend: The Rotting Hart (ends Sunday), Hysterical Artefacts (Saturday), Drop Dead (Saturday), Ramalama Ding Dong (Sunday) and There’s a Monkion in my Attic (Saturday). Scroll to 6th August, 11.30 for details.

And finally for now, one bit of breaking news that Edinburgh Fringe are reporting 1 million ticket sales so far. To draw a meaningful comparison, we really need to know to number for this time last year, but Edinburgh Fringe calls this “optimistic”. Stay with us as we find out if this gets backed up by data – and maybe a revisit of the discussion on whether more sales is actually a good thing.

Back tomorrow. See you soon.

Thursday 10th October – Please Love Me:

So now we’re on to the first of the heavyweights. Five years ago, Clementine Bogg-Hargroves was embarking on her fringe journey at the Greater Manchester Fringe; last year, Skank was one one the biggest hits. So now comes a follow-up, and the thing I hadn’t realised: this is her own story. There creation in Skank, it seems, is more autobiographical than I’d previously assumed.

I have two anecdotal observations about autobiographical performances this fringe. The first is that there seem to be a lot of them this time round – three of the ten performances I’ve seen so far are of this format, and I’ve lost count of the number of press releases of shows in this format. The other observations – and this is just anecdotal and might be wrong – is I’m detecting some weariness over this. Last year, grumblings were limited to the more jaded and cynical reviewer; I’m now seeing this go more mainstream. What this does mean if that if you’re going to go down this route, you’ve got to work harder to make it stand out from all the others.

Superficially, the distinguishing features of Please Love Me is the pole-dancing. The real distinguishing feature, though, is something more fundamental. It’s about two related things: a popular culture that sets you value by how hot you look and how much sex you’re having; and the disdain you got from large swathes of society for doing exactly that (or when you’re dealing with people who go to strip clubs, basically both at once). Rather than a blow-by-blow account of her life, this story is told entirely within these two themes. If you’ve seen Anna Jordan’s Freak, there are heavy parallels here – except that this is real life.

Many autobiographical plays make the mistake of turning it into a score-settling session. This, however, takes the approach of just telling this as they are, and let you make up your own mind. Her own faults are not glossed over. Usual caveat applies: we are only hearing one side of the story, the on-off boyfriend who frequently features may have a different version of events. However, at face value – he does seem like a bit of a wanker. She admits to being unfaithful early in the relationship, but what follows comes across as a nefarious way of using her guilt to keep control over her. “Please love me”, she wants – but the problem with doomed relationships is that hope springs eternal. Long after it’s obvious to everyone else that you need to end it (and we will see no shortage of reasons why).

Slut-shaming plays a heavy role in the story too. Apart from the guilt trip, there’s also the attitude of the strip club where she worked. I frankly wasn’t expecting the clientele of any strip club to be anything other than complete wankers – but it was still galling to hear how they lived down to expectations. And there’s the even worse place to be than a strip club, which was sadly not that surprising when you think about it. I wouldn’t blame Bogg-Hargroves if her intended message was a request to not be a complete wanker, but that’s not really the point. The purpose of this is to be loved for what she is. This is best viewed as the companion performance to Skank – but we now know the origin story of that hit play is darker than I assumed.

Wednesday 9th August – Late Bloomers’ Tales

Before I commence on this review, I should first give a recap on what being a “theatre” reviewer actually means. There was a time when I looked at the theatre sections of the fringe programmes and nowhere else, but I quickly learned it wasn’t that simple. Some shows billed as theatre are more like comedy, and some shows in other categories I would have counted as theatre – including some of the best performances I’ve seen. And so Late Bloomers’ Tales is in the cabaret section, tagged as theatre and music.

Anna Vanosi is both a singer and actor, with all of her performances being heavily and entirely music based. This show is some songs intertwines with some accounts of her own life of being a “late bloomer”. We hear stories of how her sister was designated as the pretty one from an early age, going backpacking in her thirties amongst all the tweens, and the different world of her grandparents who fell in love at early ages and stayed together their whole lives.

There are two challenges to performances talking about your own life on stage. The first is that lots of performances do this, and you have to work VERY hard to stand out from all the others. (I wasn’t actively looking for this myself, and 3 out of 10 shows I’ve seen so far are of this format.) The other issue is that, most of the time, real life doesn’t actually lend itself that well to theatre. In fiction, you can choose and order events to ramp up tension, plant early clues to become relevant later or pretty much any writing device you like – but with real life, you’re stuck with what you’ve got. The sister designated as the pretty one would have been a promising hook in a conventional play – but in the script that’s the last we hear of it. The bit about Anna’s grandparents is nice and sentimental, but there’s nothing earlier in the play to lead up to this. The stories will, however, be relatable to anyone who considers their lives to have not gone down a straight path. I for one express full solidarity to anyone going backpacking in their thirties.

But the strength of Late Bloomers’ Tales lies firmly in the music. I am a theatre reviewer and not a music reviewer so I don’;’t have much to compare this to, but I was really impressed with both the arrangements and the vocal performances of the musical numbers. Some are well performed conventional jazz standards, some are alternative takes of well-known jazz tunes – but by far the best ones were arrangements of tunes whose originals weren’t actually jazz numbers. Vanosi’s performances of Skin and Make Your Feel My Love were not only wonderful to listen to, but made to sound like they’d been written as jazz standards all along. Late Bloomers’ Tales performed at theSpace last year, but this year it’s at the Jazz bar which is so much better suited to this. Recommended for the music, and the last two performances are tonight and tomorrow at 8.30 p.m. Or if you’d rather just have the music, there’s a couple of performances of her jazz trio at 4.00 p.m. on the 15th and 27th.

Tuesday 8th August – The Madwoman:

I came across the Miles Sisters during the hybrid fringe of 2021. That year, only the most determined performers and punters turned up in person, which meant a lot more appeared online. One of the ones that I really liked was The Little Glass Slipper, performed by the Queen of France and her Friend, where Marie Antionette casts herself as Cinderella on the night of the storming of Bastille – and it soon becomes clear she’s too naive to understand how much she’s alienating society. Sadly, that play is probably too complex to bring to the Edinburgh fringe. But instead we have a solo play also set in revolutionary France, and once again the theme of naivety plays a heavy role.

Meet Anne-Josèphe Théroigne de Méricourt (Cara Johnston), locked away in an asylum writing the words of an opera nobody will hear. Although not as famous/notorious as Marie Antionette, she was quite a cause celebre of her day. The first than that struck me, after the enforced unsexiness of Zelda Fitzgerald, in this asylum Méricourt is permitted all the make-up she wants – only slightly dampened by her black teeth. After all, it’s 1817, where toothpaste and dentists haven’t been invented yet.

As with Zelda Fitzgerald, the full story of Theroigne de Mericourt is far too complex to put in one play. This is a bit more of a free-form telling that The Last Flapper, with imagination sometimes used for dramatic purposes. One request I do make is to be completely upfront about any liberties you’ve taken with history. It’s fine to fill in the gaps, pick sides when details are disputed, or simplify events to keep an audience’s interests, but if you do that, I think you should say so. This comment is not specifically for this play – lots of plays take much more flagrant liberties, and I think it would be good practice across the dramatic arts to be transparent about it.

However, whilst there may be some short cuts over her biographical details, there are two historical backdrops that are very believable, both very relevant to her life. The first is how social mobility works in pre-revolution France – in her case, rising from peasantry in Belgium by first becoming a travel companion of a wealthy but but lonely woman, and later as the mistress of a wealthier English gentleman. (Spoiler: when it comes to pooping the question, she’s beneath him for marriage material.) The second is the French revolution, and more specifically the Reign of Terror that followed. Contrary to the simplistic version of the guillotine, being wealthy didn’t spell doom, nor did being a peasant promise safety. Eventually, the guillotine was dealt out of basically anyone not showing sufficient enthusiasm for previous guillotinings. The theory advanced here is that she may or may not have been mad, but the reason she was declared mad was to save her from a mob set on her execution.

I personally would have run this play for 60 minutes rather than 40. Although this is a nice self-contained monologue, there’s so many biographical details that are whizzed through that could have provided a lot more interest. I’d have to save seen a lot more about how she became a poster child for the revolution and how she fell out of favour when the revolution spilt into factions. And we didn’t hear much about how, during her time in the asylum, the entire rise and fall of Napoleon and the return of the French Monarchy occurred. Hopefully outside of fringe constraints we can see more of this. But what Cara and Courtney Johnston have clearly carved out for themselves is a colourful and visually striking style of tales of innocence and naivety over one of the most unforgiving chapters of history. And long may this continue.

Monday 7th August, 9.30 p.m.: We’ll Have Nun of It

This was originally a Durham Student Theatre production that I saw an online version of in 2020 and is now at a Big Four Edinburgh Fringe venue. For those of you unfamiliar with progression of student productions to Edinburgh Fringe, most of them appear at theSpace or Greenside. You should never read too much into which venue a show is programmed into – after all, I’ve seen some great shows in both of the venues I’ve mentioned. But to go straight to programming in a Big Four venue for what started as a student production is a big coup.

We’ll Have Nun of It is based on the experiences of director/writer Rosie Dart’s grandmother who emigrated from Ireland and attended a Catholic convent school in the 1950s, as well as the composer-writer whose mother also attended Convent school.

The reason for getting programmed into Underbelly probably comes down to the productions values. I did have trouble following the 2020 online version (which, to be fair, was an informal video recording from the year before which suddenly became the only form of streaming available), but the live version shows just how good it is. There’s an on-stage ensemble of five, all signing in harmony, playing their instruments, and often switching between instruments between scenes. What’s more, Sister Sister productions makes all of this look easy. But trust me on this, it’s not. And the fact that an until-recently student production has pulled something off on the same level as fully-professional productions is remarkable.

Annoyingly, however, the musical talent extravaganza on show comes at a price. The problem with musicals is that during musical numbers, the story stops. Songs are good for characters expressing how they feel, but offer little other opportunities to advance the plot. And the plot itself is multiple parallel threads of different girls’ stories: one girl taking interest in the magazines of a fledgeling feminist movement; another coping with the death of her mother back home and her father taking a new woman; and, most notably, the girl who notices something isn’t right when the most touchy-feely Father in the school takes too much of an interest in her. When the little time allocated to dialogue is divided further between these stories, there’s little time to give these plot threads more than a cursory glance. The other issue with switching between multiple stories is it’s difficult to keep track of which story we’re currently on. For this reason, I would resist the temptation to use musical instruments to represent other items. I kept up with what was going on, but only just. Other audience members might not have been so fortunate.

I think We’ll Have Nun of It would have the most to offer outside of the fringe environment where there isn’t the pressure on time and there’s freedom to go into more depth. The other option would be a fundamental rewrite with songs that constantly advance the plot, but that’s a very difficult one to pull off and I wouldn’t recommend it unless you’re feeling very reckless. Sister Sister productions are dripping with musical talent, but at the moment the story is too constrained to live up to its full potential. But make this a full-length musical, and who knows? In the meantime, the hour-long version is showing in Underbelly Cowgate at 3.50 p.m.

Monday 7th August, 6.30 p.m.:

I am picking up some early signals that sales at this Edinburgh Fringe are good. Don’t read too much into the number of sell-outs today – the Monday and Tuesday of Week 1 are 2 for 1 days, which are very popular with Edinburgh locals. But based on the accounts I’m hearing so far, the mood is that sales are up.

Treat anecdotes with caution; anecdotes have been wrong before, only the figures released at the end of the fringe are conclusive evidence. But the anecdotes I’m currently hearing are in line with observations from other fringes. Brighton fringe was confirmed as up, and I’m confident Buxton Fringe’s figures were up to (although that’s hard to confirm due to the lack of a centralised ticketing system). And the fact that the fringes have held their own during the height of a cost of living crisis can probably be treated as good news.

Monday 7th August, 4.00 p.m. – The Last Flapper:

Having seen my first day of shows, it’s time to get these into reviews. The first one is the story of Zelda Fitzgerald. Before her a remarkable comeback as Princess of Hyrule and getting that Link kid to rescue her every few years, Zelda was known as “the first flapper” thanks to the celebrity life she and her famous husband had. Now her husband is dead and she is committed to a mental institution with schizophrenia.

One of the tricks of a good production is an initial appearance that gives an immediate message. In this case, the first thing we notice is that this Zelda looks like the opposite of a flapper, in a dress that “suits all occasions”. The reason is that her religiously conservative family get a lot of say in which institution she gets put in and its ethos, and it later becomes clear that her family never approved of her Gatsbyeqsue lifestyle. With her doctor having failed to turn up for a weekly appointment, Zelda takes the opportunity to look at her own file. From the way she talks rationally, you might wonder if she’s actually mad at all – might she have been put away by a husband wanting her out the way? But then the voices come – and this is a handy theatrical device to start talking about the past.

There are vast numbers of books written about both F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, and it would be impossible write a comprehensive account of their lives in an hour’s play. Instead, any depiction is going to be edited highlights. The publicity for this play made a heavy focus on the treatment of women in mental institutions. I’m not sure that’s an entirely fair summary – in the 1940s you were buggered if declared legally mad regardless. (And, let’s face in, the 1940s you could do a lot worse than John Hopkins Hospital.) But it does nonetheless portray the powerlessness of an entire system stacked against you. A family who considers you an embarrassment, and (whilst alive) a famous and powerful husband who sees you as a liability, and medical authorities who are impossible to argue with.

What the play has heavy parallels with is the characters from F Scott Fitzgerald’s books. Scott and Zelda in their heyday could have been lifted straight out of The Great Gatsby – who were in turn heavily inspired by the societies they moved in. The two of them were just as hedonistic and liberated as the characters from the books – unfortunately, they also had the parallels of infidelity and self-destruction. Zelda’s mission to kiss every boy in her Alabama home town after her engagement, and Scott’s descent into alcoholism when his career’s not going so great, and numerous other thing paint a romance that was just as doomed as Jay and Daisy’s.

The thing that makes this play shine, however, is Catherine D. DuBord’s performance as Zelda, going through the whole range of emotions. From the joy of an exciting engagement to the way she’s trapped now, and always an underlying frustration of a system that doesn’t take her seriously, DuBord captures all of it. In the interests of accuracy, I do need to state that most historians now believe Zelda was probably bipolar rather than schizophrenic. Also, the play’s publicity states she has hours left to live, but there’s not really anything in the play that alludes to the fire that is going to come. However, neither of these things really matter. This is a revival that stands or falls on the strength of the performances, and DuBord nails it. You can see this at Greenside Riddle’s Court at 1.45 p.m. until the 19th.

Sunday 6th August, 11.30 p.m.:

And my first day’s visit is done. Card crisis mitigated, five performances seen, of which four are for review.

So now a brief break from my theatre reviewer shoes into my venue manager shoes. The City Theatre Durham hosted 14 acts last week, of which several are going to Edinburgh Fringe. The following are currently running:

• The Rotting Hart, a queer horror set in rural Spain at the time when homosexuality was punishable by death – if the werewolves don’t get you first. 7.00 p.m. Scottish Storytelling Centre.
• Aaron Simmonds: Baby Steps: Wheelchair-user Aaron Simmonds on the challenge he set himself to stand up. 4.25 p.m., Pleasance Courtyard.
• Hysterical Artefacts, an improvised show as a museum team show an artefact shows by you and gives a renactment of the famous event with up to 100% historical accuracy. Like when plucky Harold fired an arrow into William’s eye. (N.B. “Up to 100%” includes the number zero.) The Space @ Surgeon’s Hall, 10.15 p.m.
• Drop Dead, a black comedy where relatives are invited to commemorate a not-yet-departed gentleman for a meticulous funeral rehearsal. What can possible go wrong? The Space @ Niddry Street, 9.30 p.m.
• Ramalama Ding Dong, Roshi Nasehi’s experiemntal multimedia piece about racist chanting she and others experienced. Summerhall, 9.55 p.m.
• With the City last year rather than this year, but Hooky Productions are doing There’s a Monkion in my Attic on Bludabus at 9.40 p.m. No kidnapping of Benedict Cumberbatch this time, but be careful what the Monkions ask you to sign.

All run until next weekend, except Aaron Simmonds which goes the whole fringe.

Right. Bed time.

Sunday 6th August, 7.30 p.m. – Dave Bibby, Baby Dinosaur:

Well, today’s been quite an adventure. Massive panic this morning when I realised I’ve left my bank card at home. Not possible to withdraw money from a bank on a Sunday – apparently, HSBC thinks we spend our Sundays going to church and praying. Somebody has now kindly lent some money, so that’s all sorted, except navigating a fringe that almost entire works on card payments now.

Anyway, there’s one more performance from Buxton Fringe I want to get review in time for Edinburgh, and it’s Dave Bibby’s show, which can best be summarised as what was supposed to have been a meticulously performed one-man Jurassic Park – but then along came a kid and Dave didn’t have time to plan that sort of show any more. But don’t worry – maybe with the help of the audience we can complete this after all.

It’s a very interactive show – no-one gets shown up, but there’s a clipboard passed round with lines that may or may not have been in the original Spielberg film. Interspersed with this, however, are accounts of being a comedian also bringing up a baby son, soon to be a toddler son. As with most comedy giving real-life events, some caution should be paid and anecdotes may have been embellished. However, a strong contender for wholesome moment of the year is Bibby’s dinosaur-obsessed child playing the part of the Tyrannosaurus Rex. (Also, if your first teenage crush was Ellie Satler but you’re now married, Dave Bibby might have the solution for you.)

However, you might notice as we approach the end of the hour that we’re not even halfway through the film yet. Without giving too much of a spoiler, there’s one thing worse for your arts career than bring up one kid, and you don’t need to be Sherlock to guess what it is. It looks like Dave Bibby’s one-man Jurassic Park will never be finished, unless …well, it’ll make sense when you need it.

This is in the comedy category for both Buxton and Edinburgh, and firmly belongs there, so don’t expect any tightly-directed re-enactment, but that’s not the point. It’s ultimately a celebration of how losing your creative time to family time is worth it. It’s running until the 20th on the Free Fringe, and it’s a pity it’s in an 18+ venue as it’s a very family-friendly show. But for a show based on a film where dinosaurs eat people, it’s one of the loveliest shows out there.

Sunday 6th August, 11.30 a.m.:

Sunday 6th August 10.00 a.m.

Okay Edinburgh, here I come.

Saturday 5th August, 9 p.m.:

Phew, almost completed What’s Worth Watching. All the plays are done now – I just need to do some quick descriptions of my comedy picks.

Before I get too stuck in the fringe though, I want to address the big elephant in the room from last week, which is the acquittal of Kevin Spacey. This has come across as a betrayal to many people, and it might well be that he’s got away with sex crimes. I personally felt there was more evidence against Spacey than there was against Rolf Harris, and Rolf Harris was convicted. However, I have no option in this horrible situation to respect the verdict of the jury. Those of us following the media coverage are only following edited highlights; the jury listened to all of the evidence. When I have more time I might go through the evidence in more detail, and if I have reason to believe it’s wrong, I will say so.

But you can’t convict somebody simply to prove a point. Validating the experiences of victims and sending a message that you can’t get away with this are powerful points, but dispensing the the need to prove guilt is too high a price to pay. Nor should we be judging guilt solely on the number of accusers. Yes, it does take a lot of courage to come forwards knowing you may not be believed, but if you change the rule to X accusers guarantees conviction, you can expect a lot more accusations with no knowing what’s genuine and what’s malicious. One of these days, I might go through the evidence in detail decide for myself if I think the verdict was justified, but until now I’ll have to respect the people who’ve already done that job.

However, it is important to remember what the verdict actually means. Not Guilty merely means there wasn’t enough evidence to prove guilt beyond reasonable doubt. The jury may have thought he was guilty on the balance of probabilities. It’s even more to remember that a not guilty verdict is not proof any of the accusers were lying – not unless a criminal conviction is later secured against a confuser (and I can’t see anywhere near the evidence needed to suspect someone of perjury). Finally, it should be remembered that it is possible to do stuff that is utterly morally repugnant but not actually illegal (Noel Clarke is probably a good example there). You can argue that for people in position of power, lack of conclusive proof isn’t good enough – they should be taking reasonable measures to show they’re not abusing their power. It would be quite valid to argue you can’t be both an artistic director and a pick-up artists.

However, I suspect the big loser in the saga is going to be the Old Vic. Had Spacey been found guilty, the testimonials would have raised questions over whether the Old Vic was covering up – but I think a not guilty verdict could be even worse. The Old Vic’s own investigation said Spacey was a predator and everyone else was blameless. If Spacey really is innocent after all, he could sue. If he’s guilty but unprovably guilty, he might sue anyway – I don’t see how else he could clear his name in the court of public opinion. One thing’s certain: if a lawsuit does go ahead, things will get very ugly, very quickly.

Or, Kevin Spacey might not need to do anything. Can a Hollywood legend restart his career with suspicions of rape still hanging over him? Precedent says yes: Roman Polaski’s career carried on like nothing had happened, and he was a literal convicted child rapist on the run from the law. Or Kevin Spacey might be motivated by payback. I honestly don;t know what’s going to happen next. It could fizzle out quietly – or it could be the biggest shitshow to hit a theatre.

Saturday 5th August, 3. p.m. – Nation:

Before I head to Edinburgh tomorrow, I want to catch up on some of the performances I saw at Buxton Fringe. Annoyingly, I don’t have time to do a Buxton Fringe roundup between the end of Buxton and the start of Edinburgh (unless someone can lend me a Tardis), but it’s only fair to give a verdict on those shows heading the Edinburgh in time for the big run. I’ve got three to do, and I’ll start with a story from P J Vickers. I saw the first ever public performance at Buxton.

This is more storytelling than a conventional play – you could listen to this as an audio piece and have almost the same experience. Nevertheless, the story creates an in-depth portrait of the fringes of Parisian society. The narrator has left Britain, having needed to make himself scarce after some unspecified messy business, and proceeds to get himself into equally messy business in France. Not because he’s looking for trouble, as such – if anything, he’s getting into trouble for being a stickler for the rules. Especially traffic rules. His first job delivering leaflets falls through because he insists on following parking regulations, and he also gets into numerous scrapes through dogged insistence of rights of way at pedestrian crossings (something that French drivers are famously ambivalent over). On other rules, he’s seemingly more relaxed.

The narrator’s adventures, however, are only half of the story. The other half is life in a semi-underworld of France. Numerous characters come and go with little impact on the main story, but adding up to portray the society he’s wound up in. The setting for this is the aftermath of the 2015 Paris attacks, although to be honest it doesn’t make much difference – this is France, riots happen all the time, with perhaps the only difference is the Police being more paranoid and trigger-happy than normal, as befalls the fate of one associate. Other than that, there’s an air of chaotic normality, such as the local businesses boarding up their windows in advance of a protect they already know will be kicking off later.

I am obliged to mention that on the performance I was at, a bit of the story was skipped that apparently caused a key event later to not make sense. I know from experience it’s hard to avoid skipping your own text in hour-long monologues. However, there is a rule that if something happens in a play that’s important, you should make sure it’s mentioned twice (unless it’s obvious at the time it’s important). Otherwise, people who missed that bit get lost later. As such, I must advise that even when the script is delivered perfectly (and it should be it will be in time for Edinburgh), you do need to concentrate on this. So make sure you have a full-charged brain. Other than that, it’s a good piece of storytelling, where the real story isn’t the narrator’s story, but the numerous stories going on around him.

Friday 4th August:

Eek. Day one and I still haven’t written up my recommendations. Better make a start. Come over to What’s worth watching: Edinburgh Fringe 2023 to see what’s made it into my safe choice list and why. I’ll race through the rest as fast as I can.

In the meantime, I’d better give a bit more info on what’s running. Here’s my recommendations again, but show in Bold are running now, shows in Italics are starting later, and those in Bold Italics run the full fringe.

Here we are:

Safe choice:

The Brief Life & Mysterious Death of Boris III, King of Bulgaria
The Big Bite Size Breakfast Show
Casting the Runes
Call Mr. Robeson (alternate days)
Groomed
Salamander
Watson: the final problem
Wildcat’s Last Waltz

Bold Choice:

ADULTS
Bits ‘n’ Pieces
The Good Dad (a love story)
Havisham
The Madwoman (starts tomorrow)
Mr. Fox (starts tomorrow)
Nation
Please Love Me
Trainspotting Live

You might like:

The Grandmothers Grimm
The Hunger
The Importance of being … Earnest?
Tomatoes Tries to Kill Me but Banjos Saved My Life
Police Cops: the musical

Wildcards:

14-18 Cyrano de Bergeac (starts Monday)
24, 23, 22
Diana, the Untold and Untrue Story
It’s a Motherfucking Pleasure

From the Comedy:

Beehavioural Problems: Something Something autism
Biscuit Barrel
Dave Bibby: Baby Dinosaur
Eleanor Morton: The Ill Advised Character Show (one perf only, 14th Aug)
Finlay and Joe: Past Our Bedtime
John Robertson: The Dark Room
Murder She Didn’t Write
Rosie Holt: That’s Politainment
Shit-faced Shakespeare
Showstopper!

Thursday 3rd August:

So, housekeeping time. Some of you are following this hoping I’ll review you.

Firstly, if you emailed me a press release on or before Tuesday evening, you should by now have received an acknowledgement from me. If you have not received one, please contact me straight away, as this probably means I never got your request in the first place. I am currently putting everything on a calendar, and I will work out schedules around that.

In the interests of transparency, I’m going to say a bit about how I make decisions on what to review. Once again, I’m aiming to be at Edinburgh Fringe for seven days – at the time of writing, I’ve confirmed 6-7 August and 12-14 August, with two days near the end to be decided. Even so, there’s no chance I’ll be able to review everything I’ve been invited to. I can normally manage up to five plays a day – any higher and I lose track of what I’ve seen. I therefore aim to prioritise plays where I’ll be in the best position to say something helpful.

The first thing I bump off the list is stand-up comedy, dance, and classic (pre-19th century) theatre. It’s not that I don’t enjoy these – simply that it’s so different from what I normally review that I wouldn’t know where to start. (If you’re lucky, I may still see you if I have a gap, but you’ll have to be very very lucky.) The next thing I deprioritise are plays that I think wouldn’t appeal to me AND have a different target audience. It’s too complicated to go into detail, but one example is plays pushing a point of view to a target audience who already agrees with them. I think these plays are a waste of time, but I know it’ll go down well with its target audience. I wouldn’t have anything useful to say.

Once I’ve got those off the list, experience shows I’m about to accommodate most of the remaining requests. Whether that is still achievable this year remains to be seem, as requests continue to pour in. Ultimately, however, a lot of this comes down to luck. Some plays easily get on to my review list because it’s the only option of what to see in that time-slot; but every year, for some reason, there’s always one time when I’m flooded with requests. This year, plays around 12 noon and 2 p.m. currently look difficult. But don’t try optimising show timings for review coverage, because whatever works one year will probably change next year.

Finally, one special note for publicists. I am grateful to publicists who send we big lists of shows where I’m welcome to take my pick of any of them. However, I couldn’t possibly see all of these without coming at the expense of everybody else. I therefore recommend that if any of your artists specifically want a review from me, they contact me directly – I appreciate it when it is my feedback, rather than anybody’s feedback, that I’m after. However, if I there’s anything of these lists that I was thinking of seeing anyway, I’ll snap it up.

And I think that’s all. Expect me to come back later when I inevitably remember something I forgot to say.

Wednesday 2nd August:

Although Edinburgh Fringe does not officially start until Friday, there is an argument to say that the real first day of the fringe is today. Plenty of acts are starting their “Week zero” performances with previews today. And if you are running only half the fringe, that usually means you perform until the Sunday of week one – meaning that the preview performances today and tomorrow for a significant chunk of your run.

In which case, I’d better get a move on with my recommendations. I’ll write up all of these in my What’s Worth Watching article as soon as I can, but let’s begin with the list. We have:

Safe choice:

The Brief Life & Mysterious Death of Boris III, King of Bulgaria
The Big Bite Size Breakfast Show
Casting the Runes
Call Mr. Robeson
Groomed
Salamander
Watson: the final problem
Wildcat’s Last Waltz

Bold Choice:

ADULTS
Bits ‘n’ Pieces
Havisham
The Good Dad (a love story)
Mr. Fox
Nation
Please Love Me
Trainspotting

You might like:

The Importance of being … Earnest?
The Grandmothers Grimm
The Hunger
Tomatoes Tries to Kill Me but Banjos Saved My Life
Police Cops: the musical

Wildcards:

14-18 Cyrano de Bergeac
24, 23, 22
Diana, the Untold and Untrue Story
It’s a Motherfucking Pleasure

From the Comedy:

Beehavioural Problems: Something Something autism
Biscuit Barrel
Dave Bibby: Baby Dinosaur
The Dark Room
Eleanor Morton: The Ill Advised Character Show
Finlay and Joe: Past Our Bedtime
Murder She Didn’t Write
Rosie Holt: That’s Politainment
Showstopper!

Just a reminder that shows I worked with for Durham Fringe are not eligible for this list. However, I will step out of my impartial reviewer shoes into my venue manager shoes later to talk about what’s coming from there.

And finally, a reminder that this is not meant to be a comprehensive list. Even though there’s 32 acts here, that’s still only 1% of the programme. Consider this a cross-section of what’s worth watching. There are many great acts out there that I’ve never seen before. As for what’s joining my list of recommendations … stay tuned to find out.

Tuesday 1st August:

So, if you missed the obvious metaphor of the sardine tin, the news that has been dominating Edinburgh Fringe since the end of Covid is overcrowding. In 2019 – the last Edinburgh Fringe of 2019 – there were 3,841 registrations, which was widely considered to be too many. 2020 was of course cancelled, 2021 only went ahead at a token size, which brings us to 2022. Nobody seriously expected 2022 to be a full recovery to 2019 levels, but it still managed 3,131 registrations. Even so, this was considered by many to be too big. Notably, this was about the same size as 2014-ish, but no-one complained then. Why now? Because some landlords, chasing losses from 2020 and 2021, were ramping their prices up to absurd levels. And the laws of supply and demand suggested they might get away with it.

And so we come to this year. Difficult to objectively compare accommodation costs between years, but there was no sign of a respite – if anything, the piss-taking price hikes were getting worse. Would this put performers off? Early signs suggested no, with early bird registrations appearing to be ahead of equivalent figures the year before. And then, just before programme launch, the surprise news was that there were 3,097 registrations, which is as good as no change. Whether you were living in hope or dread of a return to 2019 levels, it is not to be.

Or is it? Brian Ferguson has been monitoring registrations after the programme launch. The conventional wisdom has been that registering after the paper programme has gone out is marketing suicide, but that might not be true any more. Some shows registered late and still had impressive sales thanks to social media marketing campaigns. As of now, there’s 3,640 entries on the web page. This is not quite a like-for-like comparison, as a show play at two venues appears twice on the website but once in the programme, but that’s surely a increase, and not far off 2019 levels (although 2019 may also have grown since programme launch).

There was a debate on Twitter sparked off by me where Robert Peacock and Brian Ferguson made conflicting predictions of a big fall or big growth in numbers, loser buys winner a drink. However, we never decided whether it was programme launch figures or start-of-fringe figures. There’s also a question of how figures square up if you are tallying up individual performances instead of registrations – that will probably not be known until the full stats one out at the end. Based on this, I think we’re going to have to call this a draw.

But but but but but … This could be a moot point. Something will be changing between this year and next year which throws everything into question again. But that’s a story for another day.

Monday 31st July:

Welcome to my month-long Edinburgh Fringe coverage. Apologies to anyone who was waiting for my preview – I’ve had a July packed with a Buxton Fringe visit, a sound design job and venue management for Durham Fringe. I may talk about any or all of those in the upcoming coverage, but for now I will prioritise getting a list of recommendations written up.

Say what you like about Edinburgh Fringe, but so far this decade, no Edinburgh Fringe has been predictable. The Coronavirus crisis may have gone away, but now there’s an accommodation crisis. And the effect on next year’s Edinburgh Fringe will be more unpredictable than this one.

But that’s jumping ahead. The main purpose of this coverage will be reviews. And I’m currently drowning in review requests. Tomorrow when I’ve had a chance to regain on some sleep I will start working through these. I’ll first be with you on Sunday 6th, but before then there’ll be plenty to talk about. Don’t go away.

Brighton Fringe 2023 – as it happens

Friday 9th June:

And so we come to this historic day. Trump is indicted again, Boris resigns as an MP, but most notably of all, it’s time for me to wind up my Brighton Fringe coverage.

Thank you all for following this over the last month. A reminder that I published two articles about Brighton Fringe over this time, the first looking back over the strange sequence of events that led to the downfall of The Warren, and the second being an in-depth interview with outgoing chief executive Julian Caddy, including a lot to say about the replacement to The Warren, Caravanserai. To summarise what went down this fringe:

• Business has held steady this fringe. Ticket sales are up about 10%, and the number of performances are also up by about 10%. So that means that sales per performance are about the same – although of course fortunes of individual shows can still vary wildly. Bearing in mind we’re in the middle of a cost of living crisis, I’m counting this as good news. It certainly surpassed my pessimistic expectations.
• The big news is the arrival of Caravanserai. This is a venue that broadly models itself on The Warren, and it’s been a big success, if you are measuring success by revenue raised, which Brighton Fringe broadly are. The shows in the two venues have done well, and the business in the bar outside has also done well. The only downside is that the shows have suffered quite badly from noise bleed – attracting far more complaints than previous years. There is surely room for improvement here, but I certainly wouldn’t recommend this venue if your play needs any sort of quiet.
• Caravanserai has also taken on a role as hub for Brighton Fringe as a whole – which was broadly part of Brighton Fringe’s plan. Fringe City now takes place there, and, for reasons I’ve given earlier, I think this is an improvement on New Road. One obvious worry about this is if Caravanserai goes into favouritism and favours their own acts over acts at other venues. However, based on multiple accounts I’ve heard, they seem to be behaving themselves and welcoming all acts to do flyers and posters.
• However, Caravanserai has not been without its controversy, and the main complaint I’ve hard is what many people consider disproportionate publicity given by Brighton Fringe to their own venue. And coupled with that is what came across as a closed-shop approach to programming the venue. This needs resolving quite urgently, because it’s not impossible that other major venues might pull out, and that would be a disaster.
• There has been one other controversy this fringe, which has been the lack of both a printed programme and daily diary, in combination with no app and a new website with usability issues. In fairness to the website, there’s a lot of things under the hood that now run better, such as ticketing and integration with Eventotron. But with Brighton being the only major fringe without a printed programme, and its absence noted by a lot of people, there’s a lot of room for improvement, with some urgency to make noticeable changes for next year.

In summary, Brighton Fringe 2023 has been a success in the immediate term, having performed to the higher end of expectations. But there are some longer-term grumblings that still need to be addressed. Good job this year – but don’t rest on your laurels next year.

Thursday 8th June:

And, as promised, we leave with the news from the next big event: Edinburgh Fringe. At it’s a surprise.

The penultimate release of tickets brought the number of registrations up to 2,940, which was in the “Whoah” category. Just a stone’s throw away from the 3,132 announced at the time of programme launch last year. It was even conceivable the final tranche might bring the total over the all-time high of 3,841 in 2019. Another 901, but surely it was a forgone conclusion we’d have another 192 registrations to be the highest since Covid?

But – shock result – it hasn’t. The website is showing 3,097. Somehow, the take-up at the last moment has been tiny. For want of a better explanation, my guess is that this has been shaped by accommodation prices. There was a time when you could register for a fringe first and sort out accommodation later – but that would be an insane gamble at Edinburgh now. It seems more likely that people are arranging accommodation early, and therefore registering earlier, as one is worthless without the other.

There is the question of who wins the bet between Robert Peacock or Brian Ferguson on whether Edfringe 2023 will be bigger or smaller than 2022. In principle, it’s Robert Peacock, but we’re in steward’s enquiry territory, because there is a bit of leeway in exactly how we count this. For practical purposes, however, we’re looking at an Edinburgh Fringe about the same size as last year. And to be clear: I believe the news that Edinburgh Fringe hasn’t grown is a good thing. It is not in the interests of anybody – Edinburgh Fringe included – that the fringe grows back to its size in 2019.

Should this ban on short term lets go ahead in time for the 2024 fringe, all bets are off. This is now in some doubt because a key part of the scheme has just been ruled unlawful. We can speculate later on what this means. But today’s news on lack of growth gives some breathing space. The bubble will not be bursting just yet.

Wednesday 7th June:

Okay, it’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for. For two reasons.

Firstly, I have published my hour-long Interview with Julian Caddy. As always, even though we agreed on interview questions in advance, it was a fascinating discussion covering – I believe – many areas that haven’t previously been covered by fringe publications. And for my northern audience, one revelation is particularly of note: Julian Caddy intends to take the opportunity in Scarborough to set up a Scarborough Fringe. Honestly, it’s fascinating read.

And secondly … I have chosen my pick of the fringe and honourable mentions. As always, I’ve generally only included performances I counted as theatre. There is a very vague definition of what is and isn’t theatre, and I will frequently see something advertised to be theatre that I think doesn’t count. Anything under this bracket goes into its own category.

I don’t have to be as super-picky over Pick of the Fringe as I was last year (because the standard in 2022 for me was exceptional). However, I’ve decided to raise the bar of Honourable Mention a bit. I used to put everything that wasn’t a pick of the fringe into this category unless I hated it – but for the last few years at Edinburgh Fringe, I’ve wanted something more: I wanted something to stick out in my memory, even if other things didn’t work out. I’m now applying this standard to Brighton Fringe too. If everyone’s a winner, no-one’s a winner.

So, here it is. I saw 22 performances, (23 including Experiment Human, but that is not eligible because I teched a previous performance). Out of those, here are my choices:

Pick of the Fringe:

Wildcat’s Last Waltz
Lord God
At Eternity’s Gate
Pericles
The Final Approach
I Heart Michael Ball
Surfing the Holyland
Talking to the Dead

Honourable mention:

The Lost Play of Barry Wayworm
Glad to the Dead?
HoPe

Congratulations to everyone who made it to Brighton Fringe, and double congratulations to those on the pick of the fringe list.

That almost winds up coverage, except …

Tuesday 6th June – Talking to the Dead:

And we’re finally down to the last review. Thank you all for sticking with me over the last month.

Griffin and Jones are another of the regulars with Sweet Productions. They are primarily comedians and magicians, but they do the odd foray into theatre. I first saw one of their theatre performances in 2019, and whilst I didn’t quite buy into the format of the storytelling they were using, I thought there was a lot of potential in their style which I thought suited the ghost story they were telling. Well, four years later, they are back with something new, and I’m pleased to say I have right to have faith in them. This plays to their strengths as performers, also makes use of their magic skills, and produces one of the most memorable and different performances this fringe.

One thing Sweet Venues didn’t mention – and I wish they had – is that this isn’t your usual performance in the 40-seater Sweet @ The Poets. Instead, there’s a capacity of 12 round a table, meaning a big squeeze on capacity. But it’s worth it for the effect. Griffin, Jones, and the rest of us are sat round a table lit only by candlelight, as we are introduced to the little girl we are going to try to contact, and the start of the mysterious story leading up to her unexplained death.

There isn’t actually that much story between the opening and the climatic ending, but Talking to the Dead doesn’t actually need one. It’s not just Griffin and Jones’s style I’m referring to as their strength here – there’s also, I presume, some hypnotism skills and/or powers of suggestion at play. As anyone who’s seem enough hypnotists will have observed, so people are very responsive to powers of suggestion, and others aren’t in the slightest, and a good hypnotist will know which is which and work with who they can. Here, you need to do this, and also shape a story around who you can work with the most and what they say. It works, and, crucially, works in a way that only they can do.

It is the climax at the end that’s by far the best bit, though. I won’t tell you what that is because it would be a massive massive spoiler, but it’s worth the build-up. And, as far as I can tell, the format of the performances is versatile to work towards the ending whatever happens in the middle. And there is some sleight of hand at work here, and I don’t know how they did it.

There’s just one thing that didn’t work, and this is a matter of practicality more than anything. You could bring drinks into the performance, but you couldn’t leave them on the table (a rule that is there for a very good reason). Instead, you were asking to either hold it or put it on the floor, but with everyone using both their hands at various times, you had to put them on the floor – and, inevitably, someone tripped over a drink. I think it would be safer to just not allow drinks at all. Other than that, good job, and glad to see their distinct brand of performance at its best.

Monday 5th June – Chekhov’s Gun:

If there’s one thing that has been a common theme throughout my reviews, it’s been shows that feel quite clearly to be a different category to the one advertised. Experiment Human and 1,000 Miles were both billed as comedy when I’d have counted them as theatre; conversely, Degenerate was billed as theatre but I’d have firmly put under comedy. So another one billed as theatre but I’d put as comedy is Chekhov’s Gun. This time, it’s not in my reviewing No Man’s Land of stand-up comedy, but rather in clowning. In some respects, it’s got some similarities to The Lost Play of Barry Wayworm, also heavy on clowning. However, whilst that play did have a story (albeit one that makes absolutely no sense if you try to scrutinise it), Chekhov’s Gun is a lot more abstract.

So for those unfamiliar with the concept, this is a trope with a name coined by the famous playwright. If a detail is noticed by the audience, it should be relevant to the plot. A gun that’s seen mounted on the wall in Act One must be fired in Act 3. The dowdy girl who appears at the start of a sports movie must become the true love interest ousting the vain and shallow cheerleader. The kind, honest cop who announces he’s three days from retirement in the 7th minute of the movie will get gunned down in the 34th minute.

The most distinctive thing about Metric Theatre (aka Ines Autonell and Spike Padley), however isn’t the concept but their use of looped music. It essentially involved two bars of various songs, from Funkytown to Macarena being sped up and slowed down as needed. It’s hard to describe this in text, but this concept is surprisingly effective at control the mood of the performance, as well something that clearly marks this act as distinctive.

I’m not I entirely followed the concept though. If I’ve correctly understood this, the equivalent to Chekhov’s gun was everybody putting on Macs for a water hose that (spoiler alert) wasn’t squirted, but that was quite late in the show. It feels to me that if it’s about the Chekhov’s gun trope, you ought ot make it as obvious as possible. Something like “OH, LOOK EVERYBODY, THERE’S A GUN ON THAT WALL. HOW INTERESTING. BUT LET’S NOT TAKE ANY NOTICE OF THAT ANY MORE. IT DEFINITELY WON’T BE FIRED IN TWO ACTS’ TIME”, or whatever the equivalent is for whatever’s the Chekhov gun this time. Sometimes humour benefits from subtlety, but this one is crying out to be made as obvious as possible.

It’s an ambitious concept to take on – it’s next to impossible to predict how an audience reacts to something this abstract. So it may or may not work out. But I really like the teamwork of Ines and Spike. Spike has a background as a game designer who is presumably behind the looping effect; Ines was trained in clowning, and between them they make a strong duo of inexplicably terrified clowns. Whether they persist with this concept or move on to something else, they’ve got a good double-act and style for them.

Sunday 4th June – Degenerate:

We have reached the end of Brighton Fringe. Stay with us a little longer – we have three reviews to polish off, and we are staying here for the big news on Edinburgh Fringe’s size.

If 1,000 Miles creates a bit of confusion by being billed as a stand-up show but coming across far more as theatre, Degenerate has the effect the other way. It is billed as “A hellscape stand-up comedy fever dream that descends into a full frontal face-off with the concept of ageing itself,” combined with “Think ‘The Very Hungry Caterpillar’ meets David Lynch. Sort of.” As I’ve said before, I generally don’t review stand-up comedy because I don’t know where to start, but this read to me a lot more like character comedy. However, having seen this, it does have much more in common with straight stand-up – and to be fair, the billing did feature the words “stand-up”. But it does leave me in a bit a no-man’s lands for how to review this.

We begin with Maria Teresa Creasey in full vampire outfit, including hat, coat and cape. Our vampiress host introduces herself, with a healthy number of corny puns about being a vampire. And then, about 10 minutes in … off come the hat, cape and fangs, and now it’s Creasey doing straight satnd-up comedy. Sure, meeting a vampire might be scary, but that’s nothing compared to the news you’ve turned [hoarse voice on, taking several attempt to utter the dreaded word] forty. Much self-deprecation ensues, on how you can be expected to be treated now. have you heard to one about the over-ripe avacado? Because you can expect a lot of this one from now on.

But I do wish the show did make more of the vampire theme, which ended quite early and only reappeared in the final few minutes. Also – either because I missed it or it was cut, I never did get to find out how David Lynch would direct The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Now, one rule I strongly advise of people is to never force an idea that isn’t working out, and maybe it was decided that the vampire theme couldn’t be sustained for the full hour. But I do wish they persist in finding ways to make this work, because a vampire-ageing theme is by far the biggest hook for this routine.

I am wary about expressing opinions on shows where I go in expecting one thing and getting another. I am very unfamiliar with the numerous target audiences of stand-up comedy and you’re welcome to ignore me and carry on appealing to that target. Creasey is clearly an accomplished performer, but at the moment to routine has so many changes of style, it’s hard to pin down what this is meant to be. Sustaining the vampire theme for a full hour would be a radical change, not far off a new show – but it;s a crazy gamble that might just be worth it. And anything that delivers the much-promised David Lynch Hungry Caterpillar will be worth it.

Saturday 3rd June:

Before finishing off the reviews, it’s necessary to say a bit more about noise bleed. Noise bleed is a perennial problem at festival fringes. There’s nothing worse than a play that relies on quiet being disturbed by traffic, sound effects from another show, or rowdy drinkers. Sadly, the practicalities of festival fringes means it’s difficult to eliminate, and some of it is inevitable. One way of avoiding this, of course, is to have a sound-heavy show yourself which drowns out whatever’s going on outside.

However, Caravenserai has been particularly bad this year. The Warren was one of the worse offenders for noise bleed itself, with rowdy outdoor drinking areas tending to disturb performances, but I’ve heard way more complaints about Caravanserai noise bleed than anything at The Warren. I’ve noticed reviews of shows that were otherwise enjoyed criticised for being disturbed by the noise outside. (There is a debate on whether it’s fair for reviewers to mark down plays for things outside the control of the reviewers, but the bottom line is that reviewers can reward of penalise plays for anything they like.) Worse, many of the shows I’ve heard criticised for noise bleed were sound effect-heavy shows themselves. If they can’t compete with what’s going outside, that is getting ridiculous.

Some of the measures aren’t straightforward. It’s not clear whether you could move Luna Parc or Junk Poets away from one source of nose without bringing it closer to another. But by far the thing causing the most complaints is music being played outside. Including drumming, for Christ’s sake. That is really not fair on the acts running at the time. Yes, I know the drinks bring in a lot of money, but are bands really necessary before the last shows have finished playing? And if they are, can’t you schedule it so that the shows playing inside can manage (such as music and cabaret)? And if really nothing can be done to change this, I’d say don’t hire out the spaces at all – not after loud music outside starts playing. That’s not fit for purpose.

We will be hearing a lot more about Caravanserai in the interview coming up, but that’s a plea on a specific area, from both myself and other people who’ve been pushed to the edge.

Reviews will resume tomorrow.

Friday 2nd June, 10.30 p.m. – 1000 Miles:

Meet Bernard (played by Jasen Mphepo). A citizen of Zimbabwe who is attending his own funeral. He’s pleased by the turnout. There’s even some dignitaries there. A lot of solo biopics start off with with character in question musing about being dead, then going back to the start – however, Bernard makes quite a thing of it. Some of it is observations about his wife – something we will hear more of later. He also muses over the politicians who are there, and the things they made him do. He doesn’t specify exactly what this was, but we know his lifespan went from colonial-era Southern Rhodesia to an independent Zimbabwe. This was the British colony that had arguably the bloodiest path to independence (via a white-minority unilateral declaration of independence).

First, the housekeeping notice. This is in the Brighton Fringe programme as comedy rather than theatre – it even describes itself as a stand-up show. As a theatre reviewer first and a comedy reviewer a long way second, my instinctive reaction is to look for a story first and comedy routines second. It is therefore only fair to say that the verdict of comedy reviewers should take precedence over mine, so that this can be judged on the terms it set itself.

That said, however, everything about this production says theatre to me, and unless there’s a comedy objective to this, this is the sort of thing I would entirely have covered as theatre. When Bernard doe eventually go into his life, we don’t hear much about the fall on Ian Smith and the rise of Zanu PF – instead it’s a lot more observations of life going on as a black man in what was then Rhodesia. There was some reference to army life at the time of the uprising, but a lot more over life before that. One thing that has a lot of relevance is the accommodation the white businesses set up ghettos for workers: men only, wives have to stay at home. That will eventually have consequences for Bernard that he can’t control.

But … we never heard about the elephant in the room. We know how Southern Rhodesia fell, and we herd hints of the beginning of what the politicians made Bernard do. But before we get to hear what it was – the story ends as abruptly as his life. Wary as I am of forcing a British or American perspective on a story from Zimbabwe, I wonder if this story assumed too much background knowledge for a Brighton Fringe audience. To be fair, I have looked up reviews from performances in Harare where it does seem to read a lot more strongly as a play about the consequences of promiscuity – and there are certainly British plays that have confused audiences when performed overseas.

I’m honestly not sure what the best course of action is here. A play that went into more detail about what Bernard was made to do during the fall of Rhodesia would be a much bigger attention-grabber – but it would be a different play. Whatever the answer, it’s important to go beyond the most obvious talking points. How I learned What I Learned did that for August Wilson’s Pittsburgh, as I’ve just said, Surfing the Holyland did a good job for Isreal, and it’s right that 100 Miles does the job here.

Friday 2nd June, 8.30 p.m. – Surfing the Holyland:

Oh boy, my journey north was a lot more precarious than I planned. But here I am in Tamworth. Let’s see if I can get a couple more reviews out before I’m done tonight. This one I’m bumping up the queuing because it’s still running, ends Sunday, and deserves some publicity. I was first invited to review Surfing the Holyland a few years back, but it was an dates I wasn’t there. But I’ve kept seeing this play appear and finally I have the chance to see what it’s about. And it has its ongoing success for a good reason. Writer-performer Erin Hunter’s play works on a lot of levels.

On one level, it’s the timeless story of losing your way and rediscovering you own purpose. Hunter plays Heather, and she and her husband Zack are stuck in a rut. Neither of them are satisfied in their jobs, and efforts to start a family are so far getting nowhere, so when Zach is offered a job in Israel, she agrees to go along with this change. Zach is born Jewish and so can work there, whilst Heather is on conversion much to the shock of her Christian parents, not that she believes in either variety of this God thing. At first it seems she’s only doing this for immigration purposes – we later learn she’s doing this for her husband’s sake. Unfortunately, the Israeli authorities think it’s the former reasons, which means she’s now in Israel with nothing to do: no work, no friends, and suddenly no purpose in life. With suddenly lots of time on her hands, she learns to surf.

Another level this works on is a picture of life in Israel. The play is billed as “based on a true story”, and I don’t know how much is real events and how much is imagined, but surely a lot of the portrait of life there is based on observations. In some respects, it’s a very liberal society, with a Bohemian surfing culture, party-of-your-life weddings featuring Eurovision winners, and daily prayers from the Mosque over the road. In other respects, it’s very conservative, with still a lot of expectations for women to not distract men from praying and have lots of children. Crucially, however, this is not written as a checklist of observations – everything about Israel Heather sees is tightly integrated into her own story. It does not go unnoticed that sort-of-Jewish Heather doesn’t have any children yet; as for the wedding – well, you’ll know that twist when you get to it.

What doesn’t overtly feature is the two things we hear about the most: the descendants of the Holocaust and the eternal conflict with Palestine. At the risk of the hot take, that I think was absolutely the correct decision; few things are more condescending viewing another country through a lens of what you hear in your own country. The play does not actively take sides; even so, the two themes cast a shadow over the whole story, and we’re never far away from the feeling of a society scared of a world that was out to get them once and they fear might one day try again. And this ties into the final level, being the strain in the marriage. Heather’s solace is surfing; Zach’s, however, is a society he suddenly sees as home, as he increasingly disappears into tech work Heather doesn’t understand and an Orthodox Jewish community that Heather really really really doesn’t understand. That’s kept on a fine balance throughout with uncertainty maintained right up to the end.

If I had to pick fault with something, it was the seemingly arbitrary rules on whether a surfboard was physically on stage or represented metaphorically. That, I suspect, came down to the limitations of a tight venue space and the need to not impale audience members. But only the most pedantic of pedants will take issue with that that. Other than that, this is probably the strongest piece of new writing I’ve seen this fringe. Whether it was intended or not, the message throughout the play – in so many different contexts – is to judge less and understand more.

Surfing the Holyland runs until Sunday at Caravanserai at 8.30 p.m., and I strongly recommend it.

Friday 2nd June, 2.00 p.m.:

That’s it for me. 2 visits, 22 performances and the most in-depth interview I’ve ever covered. I have five reviews remaining, which I will clear before we wind this up.

There is nothing starting now that I haven’t already mentioned, but we do have a list of shows that are either concluding runs or returning for final performances in the last few days. I’ve already outlined these in more detail early in the coverage, so this is going to be a quick run-down:

• A final performance of Crime Scene Improvisation on Saturday at Komedia, one final chance to decide guilt by majority vote. 4.00 p.m. (Update: sorry, no, sold out.)
• Two performances of the the wholesome 10 Films with my Dad at Sweet at the Poet’s. Saturday and Sunday, 4.30 p.m.
• Blue Dog Theatre, responsibl for last year’s video nasty-theme Moral Panic, completes their run of their new play This Is Normal. Conclave, 7.0 p.m. until Saturday, then 6.00 p.m. Sunday.
• Police Cops’ Badass Be Thy Name continues until tomorrow at Caravanserai, 7.15. Like Shanghai Noon but pairing a vampire-slaying priest with a raver from Madchester.
• And I Heart Michael Ball which I reviewed two days ago, has a 10 p.m. performance tonight and a 9.00 p.m. performance tomorrow.

I can also recommend Talking to the Dead, but tickets are in short supply. – their blurb didn’t mention each performance is set round a table giving a capacity of 12. Last time I checked, ticket are sold out on the Brighton Fringe website but can still be bought directly from Sweet’s own ticketing. But you’d better be quick.

And there’s one other play about to join this list, but you’ll have to wait and see which one it is.

Thursday 1st June, 10.30 p.m.:

I’m afraid it’s another wait before the next review. I’ve very busy day today, with three plays viewed back to back, and on the train back to Hove for a fourth. It will be after midnight by the time we’ve finished.

However, the exciting news is that before this solid run of plays, I had just an extensive interview with the Chief Executive of Brighton Fringe, Julian Caddy himself. It lasted over an hour, and covered numerous issues. I will be typing up the transcript as possible, but that will need days rather than hours. But I promise you, it will be worth the wait to read this. Bear with me for possibly the most interesting article I’ve ever published.

Thursday 1st June, 12 noon – HóPe:

Many solo plays, both inside and outside the fringe circuit, are on topics that individual performers find important to themselves. Much the fortunes of these plays come down to whatever hand life has dealt you. Some people have amazing stories that transplant to the stage quite naturally; at the other end we have the dreaded “old at 22” plays from people whose life experience hasn’t yet extended beyond social media and drama school relationships but still try to make it the most profound thing ever. No-one can accuse Giullianna Martinez of this though. Her personal story is supporting her mother battling cancer. The other topic that is of interest to her is La Pola, a spy for the Columbian separatist movement who caught by the Spanish authorities and executed.

The cancer story is a tough sell, but Martinez makes it work. This is a play and not an oncology lecture; the last thing you need is a script bogged down by medical procedure and terminology for cancer. What she does is put the focus on the toll it took on her personally. With Mami not speaking English as a first language it falls to her, the other side of the Atlantic to do all the research, navigate the dreaded US health insurance system, all whilst trying to get information out of a doctor apparently set on a course of action apparently without any intention of explaining what he’s doing and why. Martinez put on an excellent performance here, on one hand battling to get blood out of stone, and the other hand reacting to information that could spell life or death for her mother.

The La Pola story is more conventional, but Martinez still makes the right calls. The common mistake with solo biopics is to write the script as a biography told in first person with giving much attention to what the person in question hopes and aspires to. This script, however, focuses on her last days. There is some biographical information but it is mostly the portrayal of a woman defiant to the end – which is the focus Martinez wanted and exactly right for this format.

The obvious question from the audience, however, is what do these two stories have to do with each other? There is a sort-of link given at the end that she’s inspired by the women who stood up for what’s right before her, which just bring the two stories together, but only just. One of the harsh truths of playwriting is that what’s important to you personally can sometimes be difficult to convey to the outside observers that are your audience. The La Pola section could easily be an hour-long play in its own right; the cancer story, probably. If resources allow outside of fringe settings, I could see this working as a duology, where both stories are plays in their own rights, with loose references to each other. These weren’t the easiest two things to put together into one play – but as stand-alone stories, there’s a lot of merit to both. Two more performances on Friday and Saturday at the Lantern.

Wednesday 31st May, 10.00 p.m. – I Heart Michael Ball:

There’s an old saying of never meet your idols, but Alex really really really wants to meet his idol, the popular West End singer who, amongst other things, is so strongly associated with the song Love Changes Everything that the current musical revival has re-assigned the song to the older character he now plays. This and numerous other Michael Ball trivia we are treated to as part of the tenth biennial meeting of the Michael Ball appreciation society. Perhaps if his group show their devotion enough the great man will pay him a visit. Unfortunately, they’re not the most organised group, with depleted attendances, petty rivalries amongst the faithful, and hashtag campaigns never taking off because they always end up with the word “Balls” mistaken for innendo.

This light-hearted intro, however, is a mask for something much darker. Alex has a surprise in store for us, and take no notice of the muffled noises coming from the next room. Before then, however, Alex says a bit about how the Welsh singer means so much to him. He was introduced to it by his oldest brother, from the tapes he plays in his car. But only in the car. Why not the house? And why such a closeness to his brother? Both answers come back to his violent father, who lashes out at the slightest hint of songs from musicals because that makes you gay. Bigotry this stupid might have been a comedy in another play; here, however, it is deathly serious, with one of the most profound observations being that Alex – then too young to know what drunkenness was – only know that when his father was playing the Dubliners he knows what’s coming next.

Alex Millington is a very versatile actor for Alex.He strikes up a great rapport with the audience at the beginning, and handles the audience interaction well with what was an unusually unpredictable audience. He then takes the audience on his younger self’s tragic journey. The unremitting abuse from his father, the hope that his brother seeking an acting career would be the escape for him, and one step is cruelly made out of time, a convincing reason for why his older brother’s obsession of singing with Michael Ball became his own.

That’s not all though. Alex isn’t just here to open up about his tragic life. There is, he admits, an ulterior motive for bringing everyone here. I won’t give away the ending, but the blood spatters on the posters should give a clue. Alex, it turns out, has some jealousy issues. However, I don’t think the script did quite enough to explain how he turned from meek downtrodden youth to the underestimated dangerous man we see now. Although the script gives away some clues, both to his jealousy, and his temper in adult life, I do think we need more to explain what’s pushed him to something this extreme to get Michael Ball’s attention. Maybe the answer is that Alex has turned into his father. That would be a great avenue to explore.

Other than that, a strong all-rounder from script, acting and production values. (And is a very niche selling point, anyone who saw me in Waiting for Gandalf in 2016 or 2018 will see a lot of parallels if you’ve got a good memory.) Although there are bonus reference from anyone who knows Michael Ball’s career, it’s by no means essential, and if you’ve never heard of him, don’t worry, you’ll pick it up as you go along. There are two more performances on Friday and Saturday at the more fitting times of 10.00 and 9.00 p.m. Recommended, unless your name is … well, you’ll see out at the end.

Wednesday 31st May, 7.00 p.m.:

So here we go again. Seen two plays at The Lantern. Reviews coming, but for those waiting I’ll drop in a bit of early good news that I was pleased by the standard of these two. It’s always unreliable judging the standard of venues by plays that you could count on one hand, but after a so-so experience last year this has been quite good.

Earlier I talks about the possibility of The Actors (formerly the Marlborough) making a comeback. The other venue we should consider is The Lantern. One thing about The Lantern is that they have a level of security other fringe theatres can only dream of: it is part of a drama school. The use as a drama school is the business in its own right: the hires for Brighton Fringe and elsewhere are a bonus.The Lantern can be as active or inactive in Brighton Fringe as they like without having to worry about whether it’s enough to stay in business next year.

However, the Lantern has slowly been edging up in prominence. I count 13 registrations this time, still behind the Actors at 35, but their theatre space is about as technically capable as they come. Apparently the Lantern has been popular with shows that want to run full-length plays – busy fringe theatres will rarely allocate a two-hour slot that could have gone to two acts, but theatres with less hectic schedules have this versatility. But with a replacement for the Rialto yet to emerge, might they make a push for that? Out of all the permanent theatres in Brighton still standing, this one seems to have the most in common with the Rialto, and their location is a pretty good one too.

I guess this will largely come down to what The Lantern wants. Not all theatres are eager to snap all takers.The example I have in mind is the Green Man Gallery at Buxton Fringe. People are queuing up to use this venue, and there’s plenty of time in the schedule to double or triple the size of their programme, but the people running it long since decided 14-18 shows per fringe is quite enough to keep them busy. So never assume that “could” expand is the same as “will” expand. The Lantern could be the next stalking horse to come out of nowhere, of they might happily stay where they are. In the meantime, here is a cool picture of what the foyer looks like if you come at the right time of day. Reviews resuming shortly.

Wednesday 31st May, 9.30 a.m.:

I am hearing a lot more grumbling about Caravanserai. Nothing like the level of The Warren in 2022, but still something that Brighton Fringe ought to be concerned with. The central fringe running a venue is creating all sorts of problems.

One problem is a long-standing problems that is now coming back to bite them. Brighton Fringe, like most fringes smaller than Edinburgh, routinely publicises its biggest names to draw people to the fringe as a whole. In a festival such as Buxton Fringe, nobody minds – the prevailing mindset is that the big names get people in, who then go on to have a look at what else is on and maybe give smaller acts a chance. Brighton Fringe, however, is a lot more competitive and there is a (justified, in my opinion) mood that the prominence given to big acts come at an expense of the small ones. Now the same issue has expaned to alleged prominence of Caravanserai as a venue at the expense of other venues.

I will say that, at this moment in time, I’m sceptical that the disproportionate publicity on one venue is harming the others that much. Yes, the other venues are struggling a bit, but they were struggling in 2022 and the reason they were struggling hasn’t gone away. Most of the things going on at Caravanserai aren’t in direct competition with most venues. The big tent space that is Luna Parc and the big outdoor drinking area don’t really have and equivalents in other venues except Spiegeltent, which I’m hearing is doing okay. The only thing I can see that’s in direct competition with other spaces is the smaller Junk Poets space. That does seem to be selling well – but I’m not convinced one space will make a significant difference to the numerous similarly-sized spaces elsewhere. (Also, if your play relies on quiet, this is not the venue I’d recommend at all.)

What might be an issue is if Caravenserai expands to the scale of The Warren. Two spaces (plus a garden and Fringe City stage) isn’t that big a deal, but four spaces could be a significant drain. I don’t believe for a second Caravanseari is going to be stupid enough to repeat The Warren’s mistakes on late payments, but there was also the problem of The Warren getting so powerful that artists felt they had no choice but to go along with whatever they wanted. If Brighton Fringe is not careful, we’re going to have a repeat of the problem, with the added controversy that Brighton Fringe and Caravaserai have become the same thing.

Whether or not there are any plans to do this, Brighton Fringe needs to discuss this with the other venues quite urgently. This could escalate into other venues pulling out quite quickly, and must be avoided at all costs. There are a lot of things that could be done to smooth this over. I’m getting word that, although Caravanserai is welcoming publicity from acts at all venues, many acts don’t know this – so a quick win would be to make this clear and encourage it in future years. But I really think they should revisit the idea of rotating programming by the other venues. The current limitation that the smaller venue have is that they can’t upscale their bests acts that are selling out – give them use of Luna Parc for their greatest hits and we can expect a much smoother reception.

I still think Caravanserai is a net positive, but the negatives are there, they are avoidable, and they’re certainly avoidable once you have 11 months before fringe 2024 to learn lessons. This is far from resolved, and Brighton Fringe could easily end up snatching defeat from the jaws of victory. Please don;t make that mistake.

Tuesday 30th May, 10.00 p.m. – Call Me Daddy!

I’m here, and we have one review to go.

According to the blurb “Call Me Daddy is entirely fiction, any resemblance of a character to a real person living or deceased is purely coincidental”. That’s normally a way of insinuating it is based on a real person. But as for who it might be based on, you’d be guessing your way through a very long list. I’ve heard more than enough complaints of treatment of workers in the hospitality industry, let alone cabaret/burlesque clubs. In our first sighting of Chester Charles, he rejects an lady auditioning as an exotic dancer because she’s 25, which is way past it. Where are all these 18-year-olds with 30 years’ experience, for Christ’s sake?

I think we can safely assume, in spite of the denials, that much of the play is a checklist of crappy practices (either of the same boss or a compilation of real events of multiple crappy bosses). As well as the stupidly high standards / pervy age requirements for dancers, there’s also the control freakery of staff being on standby for hours at a time for Zoom calls, spending staff wages of gaudy bling shit, and the obligatory cheating on his wife with the PA. However, it rarely pays to structure a play around grievances, or worse, gags. Run to the Nuns suffered from characters doing implausible things to meet the requirements of the plot – but characters doing implausible things to meet this requirements of a gag is worse.

The other thing that is best avoided is breaking up a musical in short scenes, especially if you’re constantly taking lights down, moving actors off-stage, bringing on actors for the new scene, lights on. There are various ways you can alleviate this – merging little scenes into bigger scenes is one option – but one easy option if it’s a music is to have bridging music between scenes. The use of music was sporadic, but the songs they did were quite decent so you couldn’t go wrong making more of that. The bigger challenge is creating an plausible villain. No matter how cartoonishly evil your ex-boss might be, his depiction in the play must have some internal logic. He will somehow believe he’s the good guy.

To be fair, there was a good turn-out in the Ironworks who were expecting some fun rather than engaging characters. And the standard for the ensemble was impressive – actors can only be as good as the part written for them, but they gave it all with what they had. If, as it looks, the purpose of the play was to have a bit of fun and do an up yours to an old boss, it set out what it needed to do. But you can achieve more if you resist the temptation to prioritise score-settling above all else.

That’s it, I’ve caught up. Tomorrow, we start all over again.

Tuesday 30th May, 7.00 p.m. – The Final Approach:

If you think the fringe is all about innovation and originality, The Final Approach wins hands downs. Although nominally in the Theatre category, Thom Jordan’s performance is more like a film noir narration. He’s certainly not the first person to narrate as a private investigator, but he’s surely the first to stage it the way he’s done. Standing behind a sound desk, you have the option to see him recite the case with the background of an overhead projector behind him, or look at the screen of him in high-contrast black and white with the same background behind. Just like it was in the golden age of the clickies.

There is one twist to the film noir format, however. Our hero, Sam Marlowe, isn’t really a private investigator as such: he’s actually a final-year schoolboy in a quite elite private school – a delusion presumably brought about by going for the world record of going without sleep, which in turn seems to have been a response to his equally disturbed mother unexpectedly leaving. I did get a bit confused as to why a kid who thinks he’s a private investigator would have an office. Fortunately, this and many other delusions are cleared up by the two bullies who run the school rag who tell him his “office” is actually his locker.

It’s a clever plot working in the film noir format to the setting of an elite school where nothing is as it seems, but the real gem is the staging. I have seen plenty of innovative ideas for staging that were excellent in principle, but in practice don’t live up their potential. Some stumble on execution, some miss opportunities to make the most of it. This, however, excels on both. As well as the striking visual setting, there are numerous voice alteration gadgets to switch between the many characters, with the right kind of jazz music to build together one of the most innovative performing arts experiences I’ve seen.

However, I think this might may have been slightly over-cut to squeeze this into 60 minutes. I know, this was done at Edinburgh Fringe where every extra five minutes costs a fortune, but the condensed running time comes at a price. Thank to some clever deployment of visual effects and voice effects, I was able to pick up a lot of the story: the long-term crush who’s given away too much info, the sympathetic principal who just seems to have too much to hide, the uneasy balance with what’s real and what’s imagined, the expulsion as the equivalent to gangland whacking. But when Sam climbed up the scaffolding to follow a cue and from there ended up in the sewers, I’m sure something has been lost in the pruning – maybe not in the script, maybe too fast for me to pick up. Perhaps out of Edinburgh Fringe constraints an extra 10-15 minutes might be easier to follow.

Other than that, a stand-out performance for both concept and innovation. The bad news is that I may have caught this at the end of its long run, having done Edinburgh last year. A different experience that doesn’t neatly fit into any category, but if you can spot any future performances, do try to catch it.

Tuesday 30th May, 2.00 p.m.:

All right folks, I’ll be with you shortly. Time for visit number 2. Before then, we’re into week 4:

Starting yesterday (oops, sorry, forgot) and finishing today is Moby Dick, the third play from Ross Ericson’s back catalogue for Grist to the Mill. This play is the one closest to a storytelling format, with Ismail recounting his time on the Pequod on Captain Ahab’s obviously doomed mission/revenge to kill a great white whale. It’s a huge book and only a condensed version can be done in a stage play of any sane length, but this gets a good picture of the ragtag bunches who crew whaling ships combined with Ahab’s suicidal obsession. Last performance tonight at 7.45, the Rotunda.

Also, tonight only, it’s Notflix, an ensemble who improvise cheesy musical adaptations of a randomly selected film at the start of the show. When I first saw this I was convinced they must be using a set of stock tunes, but the really do manage everything on the fly, including music, lyrics and harmonising. Adaptations ranges from cheesy faithful versions to cheesy versions taking major liberties (e.g. the Titanic but it doesn’t sink). I first saw this when they had a side room at the Edinburgh Fringe, but they’ve earned their place as a headliner on the biggest stages. 7.15 as Caravanserai, and I repeat, tonight only.

Another show I’ve seen progress from the smallest stage to the biggest is Police Cops, who are now doing their third show, After a cheesy complication of all 1970s cops shows and another of all 1970s sci-fi shows, we now have Badass Be Thy Name a compilation of all mismatches hero pairing movings, as long as the pairing is a 1990s raver and a vampire-slaying priest. Very cheesy, and also an insanely well choreographed and high-energy performance of the trio that is The Pretend Men. Thursday to Saturday at Caravanserai, 7.15 p.m.

Blue Dog Theatre, responsible for last year’s brilliant satire of 1980s censors and video nasties, Moral Panic, is returning with a more serious show this week. This is Normal follows the story of a hospital porter after the pandemic who’s coming to terms with exactly what the “new normal” really means. However, it’s billed as in the style of This is Going to Hurt and Fleabag, one of which is a sort-of comedy and the other of which is definitely a comedy. They’ve stuck with their venue of Conclave, which they nicely set up last year, and it on Thursday-Sunday, at 7.00 p.m. (6.00 p.m Sunday).

And finally for now, from Thursday in the late night there’s Griffin and Jones with Talking to the Dead. This pair are mostly comedians and magicians, but do have an off-shoot in theatre with a focus on the occult and macabre. This is an immersive seance so there could be a different experience to your usual one at Sweet @ the Poets. Thursday – Saturday, 11.00 p.m.

Right, two outstanding reviews to write, then tomorrow it’s start all over again.

Monday 29th May – Run to the Nuns:

If Lord God was a musical production with a strong scripts but a weak musical performance, Estelle Homerstone’s company performing Run to the Nuns has all the musical talent you could dream of. And the setting was quite a draw too – apart from the title (which was anecdotally grabbed a lot of interest in its own right) – few things are more attention-catching that a nun smoking a fag giving the finger. The setting is a fictional ‘Nunnery’ – quote marks doing a lot of heavy lifting here – and with the array of musical talent on offer this has so much potential. Unfortunately, there is one problem: the story makes absolutely no sense.

I get the impression that Run to the Nuns is written around plot-driven characters rather than character-driven plots. That’s fine – in fact, that’s my own preferred method of writing – but the thing you must avoid at all costs is forcing characters to do implausible things and shoehorning in implausible events to meet the requirements of the plot. I could do a Cinema Sins-style run-through of everything that lacked believability, but instead I’ll focus on a key point. The origin is that this used to be a convent school, until one former pupil inherited the place and transformed it into the place it is today where women are free to be as they are. And the nuns who worked there switched over to this health centre / intersectional feminist commune. In other words, we’re expected to believe this bastion of pro-contraception, sexual health, female empowerment, lesbian acceptance and trans acceptance is as an offshoot of, err, the Catholic Church. (That alone isn’t a deal-breaker, but it’s endless liberties like this which costs any semblance of believability.)

That is a real shame, because out of all the musical productions I’ve seen so far this Brighton Fringe the musical talent here wins hands down. There is an incredibly versatile ensemble of seven, with individuals effortlessly switching between multiple instruments and acting roles. And – such a rare treat – the whole cast know how to harmonise on the fly. Rosa Lucacks has done an outstanding job as Composer and Musical Director and if the rest of the production was up to this standard, we’d had had something exceptional on our hands.

I’m going to make a suggestion. Don’t normally suggest what to do with other people’s works, but hear me out. There is a rule that the more out of the ordinary a character action or plot point is, the harder you have to work to make it believable. And if you have a convent school transformed into something that’s stands for the exact opposite of what convents stand for, you’d need an entire play to explain something that unlikely. But – hey – why not? Margaret Thatcher Queen of Soho worked on exactly that premise, with the whole play set around how the Iron Lady gave up her job running the country to become hostess of a gay nightclub. I’d be up for a Run to the Nuns origin story. It’s a long shot, but you never know.

Sunday 28th May: Fever Peach – Intense Nightmare Goblin Woman:

Oh heck. Don’t normally review spoken word, but I like to sample other bits of the fringe and this fit a gap in the schedule. The last spoken word duo I saw was The Glummer Twins, which is quite easily described as a humorous duo with a rapport with echoes of Morecambe as Wise. But if you’re hoping for a simple self-contained description of these two? Not a chance.

Fever Peach describe themselves as a “Musical Comedy Duo”, although I could have sworn this would have “punk” in the description somewhere (although I’m not familiar with the rules on what is and isn’t punk so don’t hold me to that). Whatever the correct description, it’s fair to say that the duo of Scott Redmond and Andy Bullick are, by design, very bizarre indeed. I’m not going to even describe the appearance of the two – the picture should give you an idea of what to expect.

They do actually take on a surprisingly wide array of both subject material and performance styles. Some are straightforward song, some are straightforward poems, and some are beat poems to music. The show opens with “I wanna fuck a poet”, as said by, to you their words “a literary groupie” (that catch: there are no suitable poets around, so you’ll have to do). At the end, we have some improvisation with “We had a terrible day at the zoo” where you pick an animal and they explain what was so terrible about it e.g. it was terrible to meet a tiger because it the tiger in question was Tiger Woods who proceeded to cop off with your missus. I think my favourite one, however was “I will be your perfect wife” which starts off with promises to always look beautiful, before moving on to darker expectations o always being silent, having no conflicting opinions, and looks the other way when required.

That’s the best I can do to describe this. They certainly know how to hold their tune and their rhythm, but it is what it is and the only to tell if this is for you is to turn up and see. But it’s certainly one of the most memorable spoken word performances out there.

Saturday 27th May: Stephen Catling – Beehavioural Problems: Something Something Autism

This is a bit different from my normal reviews. I normally don’t review stand-up comedy because I wouldn’t know where to start. However, one thing I have noticed is an a lot of shows from performers – particularly comedians – openly publicising themselves as autistic. For this reason, I wanted to check one of them out. (As I knew I would be commenting heavily on the participation of autistic comedians rather than the usual focus on a single act, I didn’t count this as a press ticket and paid to see it.)

As a comedic act goes, I enjoyed it – but as stand-up comedy is particularly subjective and I’m not used to reviewing stand-up I’m not in a good position to say why. I think it’s fair to say this is a type of humour popular amongst – but not exclusive to – autistic people. I like it though, because it’s my favourite type of pedanticism. There was the comment on people calling themselves “demisexual” on dating apps, which apparently means you are only sexually attracted to someone after having got to know them for some time (or, at Catling calls is “standards”). There was also the point over the furore over having a black Little Mermaid in this Disney live action remake and it not being realistic (obvious point: no mermaids are realistic, because they’re not real). Catling does seem to have a fanbase on both sides of the camp, and other bits of humour, such as never getting a job in the degree you trained for, will be relatable to a lot of people. There’s also the bee skit, but I haven’t a clue how to describe that.

The purpose of the routine, however, is to talk about his experiences of being autistic – especially in the workplace. Sadly, that’s something that I and many other people nod along to. A lot of people don’t understand this, but there is a lot of shocking ignorance about autism and what autistic people might do in the workplace which is bandied about – and frequently tolerated by management. A lot of Catling’s horror stories happened within the NHS, which, for some reason, I hear complaints about more than any other employer. (Stephen Catling was keen to stress that not all of his NHS jobs are like this, so #notallbitsofNHS.)

Stephen Catling is not seeking to correct misconceptions single-handedly. As he says in interviews, he wants other autsitic people to speak up about their condition, of which the comedy circuit is one way to do it. I agree with that, but I would go one step further and say that it’s particular important to do this on the open festival circuit. Curated regional theatres still have very exact ideas about what they want on stage, and I’m firmly of the view they cannot be trusted to gatekeep which voices of autistic people do and don’t get heard. Most of the time they cherry-pick whoever best validates the views they already have, and that is turn is often sadly little more than a lazy copy-paste of discourse around other minorities. If you can persuade the average artistic director that most have more important things to worry about than whether Dustin Hoffman should have played Rain Man, you’re doing very well.

The open festival circuit is largely immune from this, especially the comedy circuit. Gatekeeping doesn’t work – the only thing that determines whose voices get heard is who does well enough to get tickets sold. So as a comedian, there’s not much I can say other than that I enjoyed it, but the real purpose is to make himself heard and encourage other people to be heard. Both of these are going well at Brighton and Edinburgh too, and for that reason, this is a much-needed success.

Friday 26th May: Still Ticking!

Now, for a change, something from the Cabaret and Variety section. Nigel Osner’s show is a “tribute to “pagean to growing old disgracefully”, and is a collection of songs,poems and monologues around this theme. The headline part, as the title suggests, is about a routine heart operation two years ago that went badly wrong, but also covers many other snippets from past projects.

A reminder of the caveat: I am a theatre reviewer and not a cabaret reviewer. I can only review within the concept of theatre expectations, so you are welcome to ignore what I say and listen to cabaret reviewers instead. From a theatre reviewer perceptive, my favourite part was the headliner number. It’s told from the point of view of the grim reaper (wearing sunglasses instead of a black cape just because) who turns up to the operating theatre to harvest a soul – and when the live-saving operating stubbornly goes to plan, Death intervenes to cause it all to go wrong. However, thanks to the interventions of a visiting archangel and/or a pesky specialist drafted to put things right, it’s curses foiled – but don’t worry, I’ll get you all eventually.

Amongst the other numbers, I particularly liked the one of a retired vampire who just can’t keeping up with all the blood-drinking and murdering he nostalgically looks back at; “Seize the day” also would be fitting as a show piece. Osner does tell us the background for each of these songs, many of them written for musicals he’s penned. However, I often felt these songs would have been strongest in the context of the musicals they were written for, than the stand-alone pieces they were performed as. Yes, I know, putting an entire musical on stage is hard, it’s much easier to just sing some of your songs from it. But from a theatre point of view, I wonder if a good compromise would be make these part of character comedy skits. Maybe write some wraparound monologues for the characters the songs were written far.

But I’ll stop there, because I’m quickly overstepping the line of saying how I’d want to do this. As I said, you are welcome to disregard everything I said as not the target audience for cabaret and variety, but that’s my hunch of how to make the most of it. If it helps, the songs got me interested in the musicals they were written for, and anything that helps me get to know them more has my approval.

Thursday 25th May:

Sorry, as usually is the case, brain turned to jelly on return from Brighton. Will resume reviews tomorrow when my brain as recharged a bit.

We’re now coming into weekend 4, but there’s only one new thing on my list started. It’s Lachalan Werner’s Voices of Evil. Lachlan is an insanely good ventriloquist, but the thing that is unusual about his show is that the whole thing is a stand off between himself and a sinister witch as the puppet. One performance only, tomorrow at 6.30 p.m., Spiegeltent.

We do, however, have a lot of things closing this weekend. If I’ve kept up, we have:

Who is Number 1: Origin story of The Prisoner that scooped extra performances through popular demand. Last two extra extra performances of Who is Number One at Ironworks Studios tonight. Be quick.

Chemistry: Sam Chittenden’s play with echoes of Brave New World. Running until Sunday at The Lantern.

The moderately bizarre dance piece Lulu has the last performances tonight at the Rotunda.

And as I have just mentioned, Pericles runs until Friday, both a standard version in the afternoon and a relaxed version an lunch time.

Also a reminder that Geoff Mead’s tours are on every weekend. If you’ve caught up with my play recommendations, worth doing one of these for a change.

And I think we’re up to date. Remaining shows waiting for reviews, bear with me, I’ll get round to you eventually. Now it’s time to fall into a coma again.

Wednesday 24th May, 7.45 p.m. – Pericles:

In order to give everyone a fair chance at being reviewed, there are two bits of theatre I normally exclude. One is more than one review for the same company – I want to give as many artists as possible a turn. The other is plays written prior to 1900 – classic plays aren’t really my speciality, I usually wouldn’t know where to start. But with Flute Theatre responsible for the outstanding Wildcat’s Last Waltz, they’ve earned a second slot. And I’m glad I did; Pericles does not disappoint.

Pericles (or Pericles, Prince of Tyre to give its full name) occupies an unusual spot in Shakespeare’s canon. It wasn’t in the Shakespeare First Folio, and for a long time it was unclear whether Shakespeare wrote any of this at all. Now the consensus is that he did, but as a major co-writer rather than sole author. That being the case, it would explain why this play has a different feel to most Shakespeare. The language is very much Shakesperian, but the story feels a lot more like Arabian mythology than King Lear. Our hero Pericles feels much more like a story of adventures.

The big challenge with classic theatre is making it accessible. You can of course set your target audience as Shakespeare buffs, but that excludes a lot of people and if you blame losing people on them not concentrating enough this is scant consolation. Ideally, you want to present the play in a way that 50%+ of the dialogue could go over the viewers’ heads, but there’s still enough visually to follow what’s happening. The other challenge – by no means essential but rewarding if you can do it – it if you can do the play in a way that’s distinctive to you. What’s it about your performance that’s different from others of the same script?

It turns out Flute Theatre are suited to both these challenges very well. I get the impression that Flute Theatre’s speciality is more mythology than Shakespeare – but if that’s the case, they’ve picked the right Shakespeare for them. In spite of me coming into this play cold, I never had any trouble following the Prince of Tyre fleeing his kingdom following a run-in with a murderous/incestuous tyrrant, being shipwrecked in another kingdom, falling in love with and marrying a princess, only for cruel fate to separate husband, wife and daughter, and to believe each other dead.

Ah, but do they get back together again? Well, the usual rule of comedies and tragedies applies here: either people get married at the end, or people die at the end. Look out for any marriage proposals in the last 15 minutes: if that happens, it’s going to be all right; if not, it’s gonna be a massacre. There were a few moments when I lost the story – I wasn’t completely sure, for example, why the foster family of Pericles’ daughter suddenly decided to kill her – but Kelly Hunter’s adaptation is good and if you miss one reference, there’s usually another later to catch up. Bearing in mind uncut Shakespeare usually goes on for hours, it’s a good job to keep it in 80 minutes without it ceasing to make sense.

So good job done, I can recommend this even if you’re the sort of person who normally sits through Shakespeare glancing at your watch every five minutes wondering what the hell’s going on. There are two more performances left at Caravanserai at 5.00 p.m. Worth it.

Wednesday 24th May, 6.30 p.m. – Glad to be Dead?

Although this is frequently not the case in smaller fringes, in big fringes such as Edinburgh and Brighton it is almost always taken as a given that all performances spaces have lights, sound systems, and the full bells and whistles. But that’s not always the case, and some plays work on the strengths of the writing and the acting alone. This is what MIM (Make It Mine) theatre are doing. No sinister musical score or spooky lighting, needed here, just spoken word or a staircase from a series of ghosts – some real characters, some fictitious, some murderers, some victims.

In a big fringe where all the major venues are curated, it is tempting to write off acts in the minor venues as not good enough to get chosen in proper venues. This is a good example of why you shouldn’t do that. Mother-daughter duo Donna and Jade Flack have done a decent set of monologues. One frequent mistake I’ve seen with monologues – particularly those of historical characters – is to treat it as a biographical account spoken in first person. Donna and Jade Flack are good at getting under the skin of these characters. Everybody knows that Anne Boleyn’s daughter went on the become England’s greatest monarch, but the pride in which she announces this is the icing on the cake.

However, I’m not entirely sold on the disparate concept – I did at some points feel unsure what the theme was meant to be. Where I think the real strength lies is the fictional characters. In this setting, the fictional characters know they are fictional and know the relationship to their authors. Lots of people write solo biopics but I’ve never seen any handle fictional characters this way before. Dorian Gray’s monologue was particularly good. That’s a unique selling point, and should this be developed further I would recommend focusing on that.

Now for the problem. I deliberately kept this review back until after the run had finished because this wasn’t the fault of the company but … I don’t think their venue did them any favours. MIM Theatre’s format has been written to work outside of conventional theatre spaces, and I also liked the fact the audience was looking down on to a staircase. But a window opening up on to the A259 was a distraction, and the traffic was noisy. None of that is R-Bar’s fault, they can’t help what the front of their building faces. However, I was unimpressed that the bar staff downstairs took it upon themselves to do some noisy hammering and drilling; and in spite of the cast handling it as best they could, sometimes important words were lost. Venues: please don’t do that. I know some of you run a business as a bar first and a performing arts venue a long way second, but if you can’t hold off noisy work whilst a play is on in a space you’ve hired out, you really shouldn’t be hiring it out at all.

The good news is that there are other fringe performances coming, in venues that appear to be more amenable to theatre. I certainly hope so, because MIM Theatre deserved better than what they had. In the right space this could achieve a lot.

Wednesday 24th May, 5.00 p.m.:

Before I continue with the reviews, I would like to express my sincere thanks to Robert Cohen for providing me with accommodation in his old flat. Like most people, I have been facing a financial squeeze this year, and the length of time I’d not used to staying in 2021 and 2022 was getting unsustainable. Equally, however, I am aware of the number of people asking me for reviews and I was loathe a cut this back. Thanks to this help, I have been able to continue reviewing at a level that I otherwise could have have maintained.

If you would like to show your appreciation, the best thing you can do is turn up to the extra extra performances of Who is No 1 at the Ironworks tomorrow (Thursday), where he is acting. I have been promoting this anyway on the strength of the Foundry’s Group’s previous successes (and of course the sell-out performances this time round) – but now there is an extra reason. Two performances, 7.00 p.m. and 9.15 p.m. Sorry I can’t make it myself, but your presence will be appreciated.

Wednesday 24th May, 12 noon:

Home time today. I’ll be back on Wednesday next week. I intend to get some more reviews knocked off whilst I’m heading back on the train.

Before I move on to any more reviews, though, an update on the new Brighton Fringe website. I am now hearing multiple complaints about the new website. I won’t give a comprehensive rundown of all the complaints here, but the underlying problem is a common one to many IT projects: releasing software that isn’t quite ready. The website as it is is what I’d describe as “beta quality”. The website has been created, looks okay, and basic checks have been done by the company responsible for creating the site to ensure that it doesn’t fall over when used (that’s alpha testing). However, when it is released into the real world, new problems come to light. Some things go wrong in ways developers hadn’t thought of, some things go wrong when real users operate the product in a different way than what the developers envisage, and some problems left unaddressed because they were thought to be trivial prove to be bigger problems than they imagined. Beta testing – that is early access by real users who feed back their experience – is what you should be doing to iron out these problems.

What is frustrating about this is that most or all of the problems people are complaining about now were entirely avoidable. I half-jokingly offered to do the testing a few months ago but other Brighton Fringe regulars who also do IT in their day jobs were offering the same. I’m sure the problems people are complaining about now would have been detected had these offers been taken up – and, as far as I can tell, most of the problems would have been trivially easy to fix once they’d be found.

To be fair to the Brighton Fringe website developers, they are far from the only people to make these mistakes.* But the lesson you should learn is that web developers are not to be trusted with the testing – it’s not because they aren’t interested in testing properly; it’s more that at least one of their assumptions on how the website will be used, however reasonable, will turn out to be wrong. And it seems like March and April was a missed opportunity to nip these problems in the bud.

*: (The worst offender was a council website who asked us to perform extensive usability testing from real users, which we painstakingly researched, documented and made recommendations – none of which they were the slightest bit interested in doing. Folks, beware of public sector organisations who dismiss your complaints with “But our website has been thoroughly tested” – that usually means it didn’t work properly and they couldn’t be arsed to fix it.)

Ah well, too late now. The next best thing Brighton Fringe can do is put things right next year. We’re now learning everything that’s wrong with the website the hard way. To be fair, some bits of the new website are good: I like the automatic PDF creation for something similar to a brochure, and the integration with Eventotron (a system I’ve found doesn’t play that nicely with other website) is quite reliable. My advice it to take the opportunity after the fringe to ask people how they used the website and what did and didn’t work for them. There will be 11 months to put things right for next time – and there’ll be no excuse to not have this done in time for Fringe 2024.

Tuesday 23rd May, 11.00 p.m. – The Lost Play of Barry Wayworm:

That’s it for visit one. 16 plays viewed in five days. Out of those, all but one were press invitations (although two I opted to buy tickets for anyway for different reasons.) Tomorrow I hope to do a big catch-up. What I will say at this point is how grateful I am to all the people who entrusted me to give my honest feedback to a public forum. I’ve been on the receiving end of enough reviews to know what a nerve-racking experience it is, and I’m aware of how much people value reviews that understand the play. Thank you all who have faith in my ability to do this.

Okay, time for one more before bed, called The Lost Play of Barry Wayworm. In Stolen Table Collective’s own words, it’s a “comedy-meta” play, which is quite a good description. There’s a hint of the absurdist coming the a montage as five characters wander on stage, looking around or talking, staring out into the audience every time the song on loop ends.

Then it’s on to the story. Alex Fishwife (producer Sam Dodgshon) angrily confronts Diane Doe about the play she’s just written – or more accurately, over the play she hasn’t written. Agnes diffuses the situation by coming up with an idea on the spot for a play about Harry Hayworm, an actor whose opinion is his ability to act vastly outstrips reality. Recently he fell off a chair and broke someone’s legs, and thinks he was quick as flash quipping “When they said break a leg, I didn’t think they meant literally”. Harry is egotistical enough to be cast into the role now that his character is renamed Barry Wayworm, and is teamed up with possibly the only two available actors less competent than him – at least Harry attempts to learn his lines. Oh, and the play includes Harry/Barry being asked to make a play about the legs he broke, and in the play within a play goes into rehearsals, and breaks legs and ends up in a play within a play within a play and then etc. etc.

I won’t beat around the bush: this play breaks the number one rule of comedy theatre, which is that it’s supposed to be as believable as any theatrical drama. Honestly, there are such huge plot holes in this story you could drive a bus through them. But Stolen Table get away with because the ensemble of five are excellent at clowning. I’ve seen so many plays become painfully unfunny because the actors throw together an implausible script and just dick about; these five, however, have comic timing and comic choreography down to perfection. And I must especially single out meta-play meta-writer Agnes Carrington as Diane Doe for the greatest clowning performance of all.

This concept shouldn’t really work at all, but somehow it does. Don’t expect to make sense of the plot, because it’s not supposed to make sense. But if you take the play for what it is, which is ultimately an hour of clowning, you should enjoy it for what it is.

Tuesday 23rd May, 6.45 p.m.:

Coincidentally, I’ve spend much of the last two days at Caravanserai. I’m now aware that that this is a venture with heavy involvement from Brighton Fringe, with Caravanserai’s role amounting to little more than supplying the pop-up venue. It’s quite clear that the main aim of this is to be a replacement for The Warren, or at least this bits that Brighton Fringe liked (i.e. not getting to the point of taking over Brighton Fringe and bankrupting themselves after not keeping up with payments). One thing that is proving controversial is the programming. I will get back to that later. For now, however, let’s have a look at the venue itself.

The first thing I will say is that the Caravanserai people may only be behind the structures, but visually it is very fitting for a fringe, with the right balance of quirkiness and functionality. I did like the look of The Warren’s venue, but one thing they lost track of early on was a theme (a rabbit-theme after which the venue was names). It does help for every venue to have a different feel, and circus/folklore feel here goes rather well. Also, it’s a pop-up venue that already exists for Bestival. Given this choice between something that would otherwise be in storage or creating a new pop-up venue, this is a no-brainer.

Much of the layout mimics The Warren 2016-2018 Warren, albeit on not so big a scale. Bars surrounding an open space are pretty much a given, but there’s also a family area called “Under the Archway”. This even takes some of the events that used to go to the equivalent area in The Warren, such as Woodland Tribe. What’s completely new is the Fringe City stage, which, as I’ve already explain, is something I think is an improvement on New Road. My important caveat I gave at the time is that this will only work if Caravanserai treats acts from other venues fairly. But, by all accounts so far, they are, both with fringe city and allowing other acts to flyer there (something I consider a big plus).

There are two spaces here, four if you count Under the Archway and the Fringe City stage. Luna Parc is a big space in a tent (and commercially speaking we probably did need a second to complement Spiegeltent); Junk Poets is a smaller venue closer to the size most performers would need. The venues are perfectly functional and have their individuality; however, the problem that has not gone away is noise bleed – if anything, this is worse than in The Warren’s day. One small change I would suggest for next time is to swap Luna Parc and Junk Poets around. Luna Parc is next to the A23, and is is frequently disturbed by pretty much the entire contingent of mods and rockers on motorbikes assembling for a fight to the death. The plays in Junk Poets suffer from that – the larger-scale productions in Luna Park I think would cope better.

An obvious complaint? The prices in Caravanserai are unaffordable to many people. I sympathise, but one venue cannot achieve everything for everybody. The one thing Brighton Fringe cannot count on right now is money, and sadly charging what people are willing to pay is, my opinion, more important than providing a new venue affordable to all. Caravanserai does not stop other venues offering something cheaper if they wish. Brighton Fringe must not lose sight of questions over affordability, but Caravanserai isn’t the answer to that problem.

Should Caravanseari expand beyond two spaces, I will start getting more sceptical, but that ties into the row over programming, which I’ll cover another day. In the meantime, I’m giving a cautious welcome to this new venue.

Tuesday 23rd May, 2.00 p.m. – At Eternity’s Gate:

The name Van Gough is synonymous with the famous painter Vincent Van Gough, but were it not for another Van Gough he would probably have never been a painter, let alone been remembered as one. Joseph Winder plays Theodore, Vincent’s brother. Not the eldest son, but such was the shambolic life of actual eldest he came to be regarded as the responsible one of the family. They were close – as described in the play the moment came when they realised they were more than just brothers. Art dealer Theodore did everything he could to support this brother. But Vincent was impossible to keep on the rails and he is now dead.

The time-frame matters a lot. As we all know, Vincent Van Gough died penniless and virtually unknown. His style of painting unreal bright colours was at odds with the fashion of the naturalists of the day. And this is where Theodore was pivotal. As an art dealer, his still was persuading buyers that a piece of art wasn’t just a decoration or a status symbol, it was an investment. It was his success as an art dealer that allowed his brother to devote his life to painting. One inadvertently prophetic statement he made to his customers is that why you buy now could be treasured beyond compare generations down the line. It’s not like Theodore really believes it that much – after all, he’s a salesman – but for Vincent this will be truer than he ever imagine.

But Theodore doesn’t know that yet (and, as it turns out, he never did). This is straight after his death when all seems lost. Joseph Winder does a fine portrayal of a man in the height of grief and – for all Theodore’s efforts to hide it – despair too. As some points, Theodore is angry with Vincent for his inability to look after himself; at other points, he insists he can somehow use his status as a arts dealer to give Vincent the recognition he deserves. A nice twist there: hope springs eternal, grief brings denial, and Theodore’s hopes he can use his status and skills to restore his brother’s name to glory look like a wildly optimistic fantasy to an outsider. But it turned out to be true.

This is one of the shorter plays on the fringe (I made it 40 minutes compared to the advertised 50), but that’s okay – 40 seemed the right time for me, an hour would have dragged. The only thing that surprised me when I did my usual background check was to discover the omission of the role his wife played. That came later – Theodore died six months after Vincent as it was his widow Jo who finished the job he started. Of course, you can’t write events that have already happened, but perhaps a bit more about Jo would have suited the play: maybe Theodore musing that she’s a fighter, she won’t give up something once she’s started. Although I don’t know how accurate that would be – and Winder certainly knowns his stuff.

The symbolic set of wheat strew around the floor make a good finishing touch a heartfelt tribute of man who believed in his brother and eventually get what he wanted. Recommended, and there’s two more performances today and tomorrow at 5.00 p.m., Caravanserai.

Tuesday 23rd May, 11.00 a.m. – I Was Kinda the Bad Guy:

I planned to leave this review until the run with finished, because – a bit like Wildcat’s Last Waltz – it’s not possible to review this without giving away the spoiler. It was just about possible to skirt the spoiler/twist in the other play and still talk about it. Here – not a chance. So this review is on full spoiler alert.

The “bad guy” in the story is “Nads”, who is also the primary narrator. Nads has a best friend who needs help. The two of them became close after said friend’s mother left home. Nads is concerned the friend shares the same mental health problems of her mother, and wants to persuade her to go to therapy. The persuasion works, friend goes to therapy, and for about 40 minutes into the play I wonder where this is going to go. Nads does pose the question: can you end up the bad guy in someone else’s story, and just when it looks like the story is going to stall, therapist and dad between them work out the problem: Nads doesn’t exist. Nads is just a figment of somebody’s imagination.

Good twist, great concept, and it makes sense: after all, if you weren’t coping with being abandoned by a parent and your real friends found it too much and drifted away, an imaginary friend would make sense as a solace. But boy, what a difficult thing this is to write. It can be done – indeed, A Beautiful Mind got an Oscar for it. But if you study the film closely you’ll how cleverly this was handled, with John Nash’s real friends and imaginary friends so tightly woven into the story you don’t realise until later how unusual it was they never interacted with each other. When you’re writing a twist of this magnitude, the writing has to work on two levels: the story must appear to make sense (and be engaging) without the twist, and the same story must also make sense once you know what the twist is.

To pick an example: Nads always turns up in the friend’s room unannounced, because – so we are told – both of them have keys. But the friend lives with her dad, so that doesn’t really make sense. Nads eavesdrops on a therapy session – but no competent therapist would make that possible, unless the friend doesn’t really exist and can appear anywhere. All of these thing are opportunities for the illusion to unravel, so use them. The other opportunity is to explore the unsaid. The play relies heavily on the main characters talking about how they feel, but at least one of them has a problem of not opening up. Writing is all the more powerful when people give away information about themselves without saying it. That is far from easy to write – but, I never said this was easy.

There is a lot of potential with this play. There are plenty of stories about imaginary friends, but this is the first one I’ve seen told from the point of the view of the non-existent character, whose whole existence is threatened by the real friend learning the truth. Jasmine-Rose Johnson is a first-time playwright, and, to be honest, I would usually advise a first-time playwright to start on something safer and take on difficult writing challenges later. But the audience was nearly full so something is going right, and I always prefer writers biting off more than they can chew than forever retreating to the comfort of uninspired formulaic writing. I wish all the best here, because if the challenges are overcome there’s a lot to be realised.

Monday 22nd May, 11.45 p.m.:

Phew. I was expected Monday to be the quiet day – but in the end, there were four plays to squeeze in. As a result, the next review will have to wait until tomorrow. Eek, there’s eight in the queue.

I leave you with news tonight that ticket sales so far for Brighton Fringe are reported up by about 10-12%. Registrations, meanwhile, are up by about 10-12%. This means that average sales per act are holding steady. Of course, there can be huge variances around the average; some acts are reporting poor sales or the dreaded walk of shame when you have no sales – whether there is any more variation than usual is hard to say.

However, we are at the peak of a cost of living crisis and I was braced for a reduction in sales, or, at best, the same number of sales going round more acts. So I’m treating a neutral figure of sales per act as good news. Of course, Edinburgh Fringe’s size appears to be going up even though sales per ticket are going down, so this figure doesn’t tell you everything. But Edinburgh is a different story completely.

Bed time needed, urgently.

Monday 22nd May, 12.30 p.m.:

So we’re now into week 3. And this is actually one of the quieter weeks in terms of upcoming recommendations when we started. However, a couple of new entries have found their way in.

Starting with the original picks, there’s a chance to see Grist to the Mills Gratiano the The Rotunda. Probably the most ambitious of all of Ross Ericson’s plays, it tells the story from a minor character in a Merchant of Venice transplanted to Mussolini’s Italy – including, of course, the likely fate of many people such as Shylock. This one split critical opinion, but worth seeing as something different. Tuesday and Wednesday, 7.30.

Different Theatre’s Chemistry starts on Thursday. Sam Chittenden’s writing is always worth checking out because all of her ideas are interesting and never unoriginal. In this case, it’s kind of Brave New World, excpet that intimacy is forbidden instead of the encouragement of meaningless promiscuity. But the raising of babies is still strictly regulated – as is everything in life – how will gene donors Bea and Jay work with each other. Runs 25th – 29th, 7.00 p.m. first three days, 9.00 p.m. last two, all at The Lantern.

In my Durham Fringe shoes, I’d like to point you to Lulu and dance piece. Difficult to explain, and I must warn you that the content warning is truthful and it does contain twerking in diapers. Also features the absolute banger of a tune Straight to Number One. Tuesday to Thursday at The Rotunda, 6.00 p.m.

Now for the new entries. Who is No 1 has been a big success and following on from the extra performance, extra extra performances have been added. To see the story of The Prisoner, you can get to the new venue of Ironworks Studios on Thursday at 7.00 p.m. or 9.15 p.m.

And finally, a completely new entry for Pericles. Never heard of this production but it’s here at the last moment on the strength of Wildcat’s Last Waltz which I have already seen, praised and Ike Awarded. A performance of Shakespeare’s least known play (TBF I didn’t recognise the name), Tuesday to Friday at Caravanserai (except Wed when it’s 10.45 p.m.). There’s also a version for autistic individuals on the same days at 12.30 p.m.

That’s me up to date. Time for me to join you again. See you soon.

Monday 22nd May, 9.00 a.m. – Toy Stories:

Well, the first thing I’ve got to credit Menagerie Theatre for is introducing me to Brighton Toy and Model Museum. Situated under Brighton Station, it’s an Aladdin’s cave of toys and models from over the decades. Amongst it are numerous extensive train tracks, working Meccano models and many other vintage delights. It’s worth the ticket price to have a look round the museum alone if you arrive early enough before the start – however, this is supplemented by some of Dobrowolski’s own models.

Anyway, on to Toy Stories itself The first thing to say about this is this straddles Brighton Fringe categories, none of which I’d really consider to be its advertised category of theatre. Chris Dobrowolski is an artist, and the show is best described as a talk from him on what he does, how he ended up doing what he’s doing, and some stories of what happened in his life because of this. You won’t be hearing any recitations of Shakespeare here, but Dobrowolski is an engaging storyteller – and that, I think, has a lot to do with how he’s forged the career he has.

It begins with how his parents met. As you may have guessed from the surname, Chris Dobrowolski’s father is Polish. He is one of the Polish fighters captured in the Russians in 1939, then allowed to fight from Britain in 1941 after the Germans turned on Russia, only to not be allowed back. There was one nice anecdote about the meetings of both the Polish Veterans and German ex-POWs, but as they dwindled in number they eventually merged.

Then we move on to his very niche line of work: making art out of children’s models. After a cynical about 100% correct observation about scale models of race cars apparently making it okay to advertised cigarettes on children’s toys, we move on to his crowning triumph: a Scalextric race track in the library. And you could have your own car modelled on the track. And have a live camera following your car. I’ll say it again. It’s YOUR OWN CAR. On a SCALEXTRIC RACE TRACK. With a LIVE CAMERA. In a LIBRARY. (And this isn’t just a boring oval track, but running under all the shelves and underneath the computers and everything.)

Dobrowolski also talks a bit about his teaching work -and here I think he undersells himself. At the risk of overdoing the chiche about inspiring young minds, he clearly did. So much that when a former student who he barely knew sadly died and his parents invited him to a memorial exhibition of their work because Dobrowolski was an inspiration to him, I don’t think his realise just how poignant it was.

The only thing I wasn’t convinced about was the analysis of the rise of fascism. As the risk of repeating what I’ve said before: I’m pretty sure 100% of the audience already agrees Fascism is bad, and have already seen parallels with the Stop the Boats policy. And original though the toy-centric analysis is, everybody over-analyses subjects that the whole audience already agrees with. What would have been an interesting take is the rise of nationalism in Poland – this would have fit in very well with the story beginning and ending there – that that was only touched upon before . Ah well, maybe the next edition.

Toy Stories doesn’t really belong in the theatre section, but as an inspirational talk it’s a lovely hour. And a great idea to set it in a toy museum.

Sunday 21st May, 11.15 p.m.:

Next review will have to wait until tomorrow. Sorry. Something came up tonight that needed sorting out, can’t say what.

So instead I’ll leave you with the news that attendance for Canavanserai as a venue overall looks rather good. Pictured right is the venue when I visited late afternoon today. You would expect late Sunday afternoon to be one of the better times, but to have the venue full to standing at this time is something Brighton Fringe will be quite happy with.

And one last thing. Just a small thing but it really pissed me off. One of the performances I attended today had a sparse audience. That sucks, but these thing happen. However, two of the people in the audience were sitting as a table on a date. They periodically talked to each other, looked for sockets to plug their mobile phones in, and with ten minutes to go just packed up and left. Credit to the performer for carrying on, but that is really shitty behaviour. You know who you are. Don’t do this.

Rant over. More reviews tomorrow.

Sunday 21st May, 12 noon:

As well as Lord God (below, Lionhouse 6.p.m.), we have a lot of other shows closing today, including:

• Wildcat’s Last Waltz, a jarring tragi-comedy thinly disguised as a Lily Savage act. Recommended, but be preared for it to his you. Rotunda, 9.00 p.m.
• Atalanta the Adveturer. Family-friendly Greek myth from outdoor immersive company Actord of Dionysus. Lionhouse 1.00 p.m. Be quick.
• Crime Scene Improvisation. Improvised murder mystery where you get to decide the killer by majority vote. 5 p.m. Caravanserai.
• Toy Stories. Saw this Friday, crosses lots of genres, had to summarise quickly, but a pretty cool story about Scalextric. Brighton Toy Museum. 6.15 p.m.
• Biscuit Barrel. Quickfire sketch show including my favourite sketch of the Mickey Mouse Smoothie. Spiegeltent 6.00 and 9.30.

Also, in my Durham Fringe promoter shoes, I was pleased to see how Experiment Human has come on. Last performance Rotunda at 6.00 p.m.

Phew.

Sunday 21st May, 11.00 a.m. – Lord God:

Now it’s off to Lionhouse over in Hannover. I was lucky I had my bike with me, otherwise there was no chance of squeezing this into a tight gap between two other centrally-located plays. But having missed chance to see Who is No. 1? including all of the extra performances, I wanted to check out at least one Foundry Group play, even if it didn’t stand out as my cup of tea: a 1920s musical set in a Devon hotel. Glad I did, because I loved it. This idea was absolutely inspired.

We open the story in Heaven. Serious-minded Archangel Gabriel runs a tight ship. If you’re wondering why bad things happen on earth in spite of all these Christians praying for the opposite, it’s because prayers are filed, organised, and then thrown in the bin. Yes, Heaven adopts a hands-off approach to Earth, with a strict policy of minimal intervention. But, notably, the layers of management work very hard to keep God out of the loop. Why? Because it turns out God is an upper-class twit with no idea what’s going on, very much in the style of Bertie Wooster. And Gabriel, although officially the underling, is the one to keep him out of trouble. Yes, that’s right, in this story Gabriel and God have been modelled on Jeeves and Wooster.

Brian Mitchell and Philip Reeve write an excellent script – clearly they know their Wodehouse inside out – but it’s topped off by a wonderful performance from Murray Simon as God/Wooster. The whole point of Jeeves and Wooster, of course, is that Wooster stumbles from one catastrophe to the next never really understanding what’s going on. When he is persuaded to take a holiday on earth and adopt the hastily-assumed identity of Mr. Godlington (and has to keep checking the name written on his sleeve), and uses his powers of miracles for minor purposes of getting a hotel room with a sea view, he looks forward to relaxing with the latest Agatha Christie. When he accidentally packs the controversial book Why God Does Not Exist, that proves a dampener, only made worse by the discovery the crusty old Professor A. J. Tweddle who wrote this is in fact not crusty or old but the pretty lady he struck up a chance conversation with. His realisation is one of the funniest of the many many funny moments in the play.

As Wodehouse fans will know, though, it’s not all high jinks. The moments of pathos come in the few moments of self-awareness. In this case, it’s his realisation of how weak the case for his own existence is here. In spite of being the living embodiment of the case against atheism, poor old God is hopeless at argument his existence with Prof. Minty Tweddle, leading to a moment of pathos and he wonders what the point of himself really is. The plot is also packed with a love triangle involve a cantankerous theatre critic, a scheming plot from the management of Department L (also knows as Hell), and – being Britain in the 1920s – puzzlement why anyone would order carrot juice instead of a Full English breakfast.

The only down-side is that the production felt a bit under-rehearsed. I suspect the limitation here is that The Foundry Group is very much a theatre company that’s not used to musicals. The dialogue was slick, sharp and funny, but the musical numbers struggled a bit. This production, I feel would benefit from a heavier presence of cast/creatives used to musicals. So here is my firm call: should the Foundry Group wish to put on an upscaled version of Lord God (which I’m sure would easily sell well enough to justify the expense), you could keep the cast of four you already have in most of their current roles, but spread out the story to include some new cast whose primary background is singing and/or dancing. That, I believe, would be enough to carry everybody.

In the meantime, there’s one final performance at 6 p.m. tonight at Lionhouse. Long walk and 2-hour play, so you’ll need a big gap in your schedule. But it’s worth it.

Saturday 20th May, 11.45 p.m.:

And I leave you tonight with some personal observations on audience numbers.

Usual caveats apply: I am working with a very small sample size here: three performances yesterday (plus one overheard ticket sale figure) versus four performances today. That is not a big enough sample to be reliable. But … based on what I saw, Saturday sold MUCH better than Friday. On Friday, audiences were only just making it into double figures; but today, everything I saw was close to full.

Of course, these are different plays, and not a like-for-like comparison. But we are in a cost of living crisis with an unpredictable effect on fringe festivals. Is Brighton reverting to a weekend-centric festival like it was only a decade ago?

If you have your own observations – or better still, actual stats – please do let me know.

Saturday 20th May, 2.30 p.m. – Persephone:

Now for a take on the Greek legend described as a “feminist queer retelling”. In common with most ancient texts, women tend to get a raw deal, with the recurring trope being that women are not to be trusted. In this story, depending on how you interpret it, Persephone is a pawn in a power-struggle between three gods. Is there room to make something more?

This retelling transplants Persephone to Essex. She has a difficult relationship with her mother Demeter, sometimes resenting her daughter for her own fading youth, sometimes pressuring her into looking more attractive. There are two girls at school (doubling as a chorus) who relentlessly bully her for not looking sufficiently hot. One theme that is prevalent throughout to retelling is women being valued on their looks. In one flashback, we see Persephone and her two tormentors as young children and best friends, before relentless marketing took hold of her friends. I guess the expectations of women vary, but the consequences of going against the grain are still there. This then feeds quite nicely into Hades offering Persephone a better offer in the underworld.

However, I did feel the story got a bit bogged down in the list of issues it was trying to cover. There is a rule for retellings that it’s better to looks for opportunities to make statements from the course text rather than try to work in every issue you want to talk about. Is this case: what’s happened to Zeus? That felt like a missed opportunity to me, because I’d say if you’re looking at this through a feminist lens, Zeus is the obvious bad guy: a serial philanderer and the worst offender for using his own daughter as an expendable asset in the power game. (Also the fucked up stuff he does as a swan, but let’s not go there right now.) And for a play that rails against valuing women as looks, surely he’s the worst offender too, valuing Demeter when beautiful and discarding her as her looks fade. Demeter’s difficult relationship with Persephone portrayed in this adaptation definitely figure if you consider it Demeter’s futile request to regain the affection of an old lover who will never be thankful.

I try to refrain from suggesting changes to plays, but this I think would slot in quite nicely to the story they already have. Zeus doesn’t necessarily need to be an extra actor – an off-stage character could probably do the job here. Not all stories suit feminist retellings, but Persphone does and is a good choice. But always make the most of the source text – if you want a feminist retelling, there more to be mined.

Saturday 20th May, 10.30 a.m. – Wildcat’s Last Waltz:

And now, a rare kind of review: the interim review. The must-see play I saw yesterday is Flute Theatre’s Wildcat’s Last Waltz – but I can’t tell you why because it would be a massive spoiler. Joshua Welch plays the “Wildcat of Sheffield”, a kind of older Lily Savage character. She earns the nickname “Wildcat” from the days before marriage when she worked her way though a different man every week – you know, try before you buy and all that. After she met her beloved Geoff, she traded that all in for married life, and conflicts with her new mother-in-law who things Geoff married beneath him and tuts over that lack of effort make to dusting the family heirloom table. But don’t worry, she doesn’t know what the wildcat does with her husband on the table when she’s not around.

The format is a very interactive one, with the audience getting tea and biscuits, re-enacting the exercise class she use to do, and if you’re really lucky, you might take the other seat so she can natter away to you about her scandalous life whilst we’re waiting for Geoff to arrive. But there is one underlying detail beneath all of this that isn’t so obvious: you the audience are somebody to talk to. She doesn’t get this opportunity often. In fact, this whole Lily Savage presentation is lulling you into a false sense of security. I’m absolutely not giving away what happens half-way through, but it sets a whole new direction.

Joshua Welch’s performance is superb. The character is based in part on his grandmother, which may be provided a lot of inspiration for the mannerisms, but the real strength is the switch between emotions. Wildcat switches between her present-day chippy narration and the row where she tells Geoff she’s leave an in an instant. The gut-punch, however, is what happens at the end, after all the guests have gone, which I absolutely can’t describe, just go and see it.

There’s one other thing I can tell you without giving the same away. Welch is accompanied by two women with cameos of music and sound (quite extravagant for one play, but the three of them do another play other so this make sense). All this comes together together for one moment and the end featuring Bolero, which I again I can’t give away.

Well done, you’ve talked me into this in mid-review. Congratulations Flute Theatre:

You have two performances left, tonight and tomorrow, both 9.00 p.m., Rotunda. See it see it see it.

Friday 19th May, 8.30 p.m.:

What I can do, however, give an update on Caravanserai.

I know Brighton Fringe were heavily pushing Caravanserai, what I hadn’t realised is how heavy Brighton Fringe’s involvement was in running the venue. I turned up for a flying visit earlier today, and I noticed all the staff at the venue had Brighton Fringe T-shirts. This is a notable departure. Until now, throughout all of Edinburgh, Brighton and Buxton Fringes, there has been full separation between fringe activities and venue activities. The only events programmed by the fringe itself were events relevant to the whole fringe, such as events such as Fringe City, or events offering services to performers.

However, under the circumstances, I think this short cut necessary at this point in time – but only as a short-term arrangement. There’s a lot of ways this could go wrong if left to the long term.

The reason why I think Caravanserai was needed ASAP: much as The Warren’s departure has gone unmourned, I do think a replacement was needed sooner rather than later. Whether you like it or not, the venues that pop up in the green space along London Road are the most visible ones, and a far more effective form of advertising than any number of adverts and banners. This level of visibility, I believe, benefits all venues, not just the big pop-up ones. I’d assumed that Caravanserai was a complete package of venue, staff and programmers – it now seems that Brighton Fringe central had been taking responsibility for the last two. But if it was the choice between that or no new venue, that’s a short cut I’m prepared to take.

There’s also the role of Caravanserai as a fringe-wide hub. I’ve already talked about Fringe City being within Caravanserai, and why, on balance, I think this is a better location than New Road. The question was whether Caravanserai is accommodating to non-Caranvanserai acts seeing to publicise themselves. The early feedback I’m getting is yes – they are welcoming publicity from all acts across all venues. That is important – my enthusiasm would wane very quickly if they weren’t.

I have heard some grumbling over Caravanserai’s programming. I want to ask about this further before commenting on that, but it’s something that wouldn’t have been an issue had it not been for the heavy crossover with Brighton Fringe.

My biggest concern, however, is the precedent. The only other festival I can think of that has both venues managed by a central festival committee that also allows open access from independent venues is Melbourne Comedy Festival. That arrangement, I understand, worked fine – until there was a change of management. The new head of the festival, it seems, turned on the acts who weren’t directly programmed by them, becoming obstructive at every opportunity. Even if the current Brighton Fringe directors behave themselves, what’s to say their successors will be the same.

For this reason, I think the current arrangement for Caranvanserai can only be a temporary solution. In the long term, we probably want to have full separation between Brighton Fringe and Caravanserai, just like there is with all other venues. The other alternative would be to carve up programming between the other major venues – but if you’re going to to that, it’s got to be done properly.

In summary, I think Caravanserai is a good idea – but the job is not done yet.

Friday 19th May, 4.00 p.m.:

Well, I’m here. And what do you know? In spite of not having slept since 7 a.m. yesterday morning, I am ready for my first play and I’m wide awake. I don’t know how I’ve done it, but I’m now feeling invincible. I didn’t even need to 2-hour power-nap I’d budgeted into my plans today.

There is one concession I will make in the interests of fairness. I won’t stand writing any reviews until tomorrow when I’ll have my sleep levels back to something sane. But don’t go away – I have at least one more hotly debated topic before we’re finished today.

Friday 19th May, 4.00 a.m.:

Yes, I know. 4 in the morning. You can stop smirking and all.

May as well get on with the remaining listings for this weekend. I’ve already listed things starting yesterday (Thursday), now here’s things starting Friday-Saturday.)

The Foundry Group is having a lot of success with Who is No. 1 with lots of extra dates being added, but if you prefer something more light-hearted, you can catch Lord God, a musical featuring the big man upstairs himself taking a quiet break in a Devonshire hotel. Until – ho hum, this always happens to deities on quiet country retreats – he has a run-in with an atheist and a snarky drama critic leading to all sorts of scrapes. And the invention of a hot new dance craze, apparently. Anyway, this is at Lionhouse, with four performances over the next three days, various times. And this is a two-hour play including an interval.

Also at Lionhouse, we have something from Actors of Dionysus, aimed at children age 4-9, Atalanta the Adventurer. I’ll have to leave it to others to give a verdict on children’s entertainment, but they certainly know their stuff in the garden they use as their home turf. Saturday and Sunday, two performances each at 11 and 1.

Blue Dog Theatre, who impressed me with Moral Panic last year, aren’t doing their new play until later in the fringe, but before then they’re doing a storytelling performance. The Landing Light Live, or three tales of terror, is on Saturday only. Two performances, 7.30 and 9.00 at the Fishing Museum Loft.

And finally, two comedy events this weekend only. We have an improvised murder mystery from Crime Scene Improvisation where, in a triumph for democracy, the murderer is decided by majority vote. 5 p.m. Caravanserai, Saturday and Sunday. Whilst over at Spiegeltent at 6 we have Biscuit Barrel with the quickfire sketches/groaners on Saturday and Sunday.

Phew.

Friday 19th May, 2.30 a.m.:

Okay you night owls, here’s what I’ve been cooking up for you tonight. Something I’ve been meaning to write for some time:

The strange death of The Warren. For the best part of a decade, The Warren was the centrepiece of Brighton Fringe. It played a key role in transforming Brighton Fringe into the big player it is today and led the way in the recovery from Covid. So how did it go so wrong so quickly? I look back at the story, from the meteoric rise, to the first signs of unravelling, to the sorry end.

Thursday 18th May, 7.45 p.m.:

And at this point in the evening, it is time for a rare entry in the chrisontheatre corrections corner. I’d previously reported that The Rotunda was only running part of Buxton Fringe, which is correct, but I was wrong about the reason. In my defence, last year The Rotunda did indeed run only part of Buxton Fringe for this reason, but this time the reason is quite different. It is, in fact, due to a clash with Buxton parade/celebration which has suddenly decided it wants that bit of the Pavilion gardens over the time the Carnival’s on. I don’t yet know the details of this, but hopefully this can be resolved for future years.

Anyway, I am now on the Sleeper to London. But I’m not going to be doing any sleeping, because the cabins cost about 15 billion pounds and 99p. This is going to be an endurance test. I’ll be posting stuff through the night. You night owls out there: please send spicy bantz and memes.

Thursday 18th May, 3.30 p.m.:

Today’s the day. I have a long night ahead of me, and I will be passing the time by writing and posting a lot of theatre blog content.

But let’s begin with a bit one of what’s coming up. And it’s rush hour. Seven things on my radar between now and the end of the week, so to keep this manageable I’m going to stick to the three starting today.

So at The Actors (or to those of you not up to speed on the name change, The Marlborough), we have Fabulett 1933. This is LGBT theatre with a heavy appeal to an LGBT audience, but it’s also an interesting spotlight an a forgotten piece of history. Between the two world wars, Berlin emerged as a place of both hedonism and acceptance, amongst them Felix, now emcee of the Fabulett club. But now the Nazis are in power, and – inevitably – these placed of so-called degeneracy are being closed down. Even so, this one-man musical isa celebration of an early gay rights movement and message of defiance that, somehow, they will be back. Running until Sunday at 8.00p.m.

Jekyll and Hyde – A One-Woman Show has a brief airing at its home of Sweet @ The Poets. This has been one of the biggest hits in Brighton so I needn’t say much about this other and remind you it’s one. If you’ve managed to not hear about it, the most interesting thing about the treatment of the gender swap of Jekyll/Hyde is – keeping it exactly the same. Even the bits you’d think couldn’t possibly work as a female character. Requires concentration and/or prior knowledge of the story, but worth in for Heather Rose Andrews’ transformation scene. Running until Saturday at 7.30 p.m.

And finally for now, you only chance to see Grist from the Mill’s now play, Renfield. Ross Ericson’s solo plays cover a variety of interesting formats – The Unknown Soldier is his big hit, but we also have style from conventional storytelling of Moby Dick and an ambitious retelling of Shylock in fascist Italy in Gratiano. So no we have a retelling of Dracula from the point of view of his most fanatical servant R. M. Renfield locks in the asylum. 7.30 at the Rotunda – and I repeat – tonight only.

I’ll aimed to get the rest of the What’s On out in the early hours, but that’ll get you started.

Wednesday 17th May:

More thoughts on the Joanna Cherry business

Before I embark on my monster overnight train journey tomorrow, the follow-up to the business at The Stand. This topic isn’t going quietly, so let’s get straight to the heart of the debate: should the staff of venues have a veto over what’s performed?

I’m torn here. There are people active in the arts who I find absolutely loathsome. If an organisation I had anything to do with rolled out the red carpet for Ken Loach, for example, I would much sooner resign that have the slightest thing to do with promoting his events. (If you want to know why, read the last section of this article, but the short version is that he’s a massive Holocaust denier.) But everybody has their own bugbears, and it’s not my business or anyone else’s to tell people what you are and aren’t allowed to boycott as a matter of conscience.

This is important. I have no time for people who say “Why are you only taking action against A and not taking action against B?” Some people have a particular problem with transphobia, some people have a particular problem with anti-Semitism, other people have particular problems with other issues – and mixed into that, people have different opinions on what bigotry is real and what bigotry is blown out of proportion. Bethany Black, for instance, is a transgender comedian, so it’s perfectly understandable why she’d take issue with Joanna Cherry over everybody else. Policing boycotts through whataboutery almost always end up being used as a tool to derail criticism rather than draw attention to other pressing issues.

However, when you have an entire workforce selectively boycotting some controversial acts but not others, we’ve got a problem. For example, Ken Loach has just been names as one of the guests for “In conversation with …”, the same line-up that Joanna Cherry was booted from and reinstated – and guess what? Nobody at The Stand is bothered. There is the argument of freedom of speech – but the people refusing to work have already forfeited that argument. I’m afraid the remaining options aren’t good. Either the staff at The Stand have collectively decided some forms of bigotry are more permissible than other, or some people have more permission than others to be bigots. And when The Stand took the line that they can cancel acts because of staff boycotts, they nailed colours to that mast too.

For this reason, it’s probably for the best that The Stand got unstuck in litigation. I have my doubts over the law here – I think it’s right to have freedom of speech protected in law, but I don’t think it should be a protected characteristic alongside race/gender/sexuality in the Equality Act. But it was right to send the message that venues can’t duck their legal obligations simply to appease staff unrest. If staff collectively rise up against some forms of bigotry but shrug in the face of others, that’s not equality – you’ve simply reduced it to a popularity contest. And an employer that accedes to this is complicit in some double-standards.

Anyway, we surely haven’t heard the last of this. On the day of the talk, expect events to get very ugly.

Tuesday 16th May:

My doubts over the website

North of the border, Edinburgh Fringe has been trumpeting the launch of their app; something which, as you may recall, was not done last year and upset a lot of people. However, at Brighton it’s the other way round, with the app discontinued for reasons of economisation. Now, a Brighton Fringe app is probably not as urgent as an Edinburgh Fringe app – there is the mood that smaller acts at Edinburgh need the “nearby and now” acts to be noticed amongst the thousands of other apps; in Brighton, when there’s dozens of other shows each day instead of hundreds, it’s less of an issue.

However, I have my doubts over the combination of scrapping both the Brighton Fringe printed programme and the app. In my opinion, by far the most useful part of the Brighton Fringe programme was the Daily Diary, which lists shows in order, so that you can plan the day ahead and see what’s available during the time you are free. Now that this has been done away with, it’s hard to see what works in its place. The app, of course, is not an option. The PDF printed programme substitute does not have a daily diary section (which is somewhat frustrating as that wouldn’t have been too difficult to programme). And I am really struggling with the website. This was supposed to be an improved website to compensate for the lack of a printed programme, but try as I might, I cannot work out a way of listing shows in order on a particular day. It’s not clear whether it’s a bug, a browser problem, a design flaw or a usability issue, but I work in IT – if I can’t get this to work, what chance does anybody else have.

This isn’t too much of an issue for me – my scheduling now almost entirely comes down to review requests, that I do on my own spreadsheet. (Also, the Brighton Fringe Press Office were kind enough to send me the data in a spreadsheet that I use manually should I need to.) But I’m at a loss as to how other people are supposed to manage. The daft thing is that the Brighton Fringe website has just release a “starting soon” page on their website – but only as a beta test, released after the fringe started, which hardly anyone knows about. That, surely, is the feature of an overhauled website that should have been done first. Ah well, maybe it’ll be ready for next year.

But maybe that’s just me. Do let me know your experiences.

Monday 15th May:

Looking ahead to Buxton, Durham and Greater Manchester Fringes

Another slow news day. Although, to be honest, given all the shitshows that accompany the typical Edinburgh Fringe news, Brighton Fringe will probably we happy with slow and steady. Anyway, now’s a good time to look at the prospects of upcoming fringes apart from Edinburgh.

Buxton Fringe has edged up to 190 entries, which is slightly higher than any previous fringe except 2019, which ran for three days longer than usual. The bigger picture, however, may be more than the headline number; we saw in 2022 that although the size was about the same as 2017/2018, there was a lot of movement within this figure. This time round, the most interesting development seems to be with the Rotunda. Last year, they had two tents in Brighton, named Bubble and Squeak; this year, Squeak joins Bubble in Buxton. Again, however, the Rotunda is only setting up in the second half of the fringe, the competition from the lucrative Wells festival being too tempting at the start of Buxton Fringe.

I actually think the arrival of the Rotunda’s smaller space is going to be good for Buxton Fringe. Ever since they lost Pauper’s Pit and the Barrel room to some hot tub-themed redevelopment, there’s not been much on offer in the way of smaller spaces, which many entry-level venues rely on. There’s not been a huge amount of uptake on Squeak this year, with Tuesday and Wednesday still being unused; nevertheless, I hope they stick with this as the bigger spaces are a big gamble for new untested shows.

The other question over Buxton Fringe is how audiences fare. Buxton Fringe tends to have an older audience compared to most fringes; in 2022, however, audience numbers weren’t great, and that seem to have been affected by some regulars choosing to take no chances with Covid. It’s not my business to tell people when to return – but if people are relaxed enough by 2023 to come back, that will help.

Durham Fringe has a modest growth in size, with a size of 68 entries reported. And from the acts I’ve seen so far, it looks like more acts on the fringe circuit are getting Durham Fringe on their radar. The big question: is Durham Fringe open enough to really qualify as a fringe? You know my view: festivals that call themselves fringes have nothing to be afraid of by adopting a “all welcome” ethos, but for now I’ll leave it up to you to decide what’s fringish enough.

Full disclosure: I do have some concerns about long-term strategy of Durham Fringe, but I’m still someone who wants this to succeed and willingly puts in a lot of time to make this work. I intend to raise concerns quietly before I consider raising anything in public – and certainly not until after Fringe 2023 in July.

However, what might be a surprise is the numbers from Greater Manchester Fringe. In 2019, it looks like they might overtake Buxton Fringe; at the time of writing, however, their numbers are back to a less dramatic 52 registrations. Before getting too sensational, however, it is worth remembering that the numbers of GM Fringe versus Buxton Fringe aren’t directly comparable. Buxton is an event heavily concentrated over a short period within three weeks; Greater Manchester, however, is spread over an entire city. What’s more, Greater Manchester is a lot more like London in having a year-round fringe scene. It might be more accurate to monitor the fringe theatre scene over the whole year rather than a single month.

Nevertheless, I’m wondering if the rise and rise of Greater Manchester Fringe prior to 2020 was down to Zena Barrie, who worked very hard to get this fringe taken seriously. Maybe she was just too hard an act to follow. Greater Manchester is not going away any time soon; and should house prices in London drive artists out, Greater Manchester may still overtake Greater London as the place to be noticed. But will it still be concentrated in July? Who knows. Either way, Buxton’s place at UK’s number 3 fringe looks secure for the foreseeable future.

Sunday 14th May:

Coming up in week 2

Well, it’s still all kicking off in Edinburgh, but it’s been another slow news day at Brighton Fringe. Since the launch of the fringe things have been proceeding smoothly and uneventfully as far as I can see. For once, my Brighton coverage might be limited to just reviews.

Anyway, since I might not be able to do tomorrow’s update until late, I’m doing my week 2 recommendations a day early.

The big event tomorrow is Blue Blood, from long-standing fringe favourites Blue Devil Theatre. They have done many adaptations, usually with an LGBT twist on it, but that’s only ever part of what makes it stand out – there’s always numerous new twists to old tales that are original yet faithful to the source test. This is perhaps the least well-known source story, best known as the 1949 film Kind Hearts and Coronets, about the black sheep of an aristocratic family seeking to take the family title in spite of only being eighth in the – via the direct route. The bad news, however, is that whilst Blue Devil easily got week-long runs (or more) at the Rialto, the Rialto is no more, and in the new venue of the Ironworks Studios, there’s only three days. Monday to Wednesday, 7.45, catch it when you can.

One thing that wasn’t in my listing but might be of interest is Last Man Standing from Aidan Goatley of 10 Films with my Dad fame. This is a work in progress, and only running Monday and Tuesday (7.30, Sweet @ the poets), but looks very different from what he’s done before. In the theatre category rather than comedy, the tagline is “Even in the apocalype, idiots will be idiots.” If you want to take a punt some something very new, this might be worth a punt.

On Tuesday there is the start of Toy Stories, which got my attention as a fitting piece for one of Brighton Fringe’s quirkiest venues: Brighton Toy and Model museum. Chris Dobrowolski tells the story of taking refuge in his childhood home and rediscovering his old toy collection. Also featuring a digression to family history, Poland, and a tank from world war 2. One of the most unpredictable listing, runs Tuesday to Sunday at 6.16 underneath the station.

There is a final chance to see Finlay and Joe’s family friendly and nerd-friendly show themed around a new high-tech machine that automates sketch writing and definitely won’t turn into a megalomaniac and try to destroy us all. Wednesday, 9.30, Laughing Horse at the Walrus.

And finally, stepping out of my theatre reviewer shoes and putting on my Durham Fringe shoes, we have Hooky Productions’ surprise hit Experiment Human starting at The Rotunda at 6.00 p.m. from Wednesday to Sunday. It’s going to take a lot of explaining who Monkions are, why they’ve kidnapped a famous actor, or what the experiments are, but the reason they are in Brighton in the first place is winning the Brighton Fringe Award for Excellent last August in Edinburgh.

And that only takes us to Wednesday. We have more things starting on Thursday, but we’ve already got a big list here so I’ll stop for now. More listings coming soon.

Saturday 13th May:

Coming up in weekend 2

It’s weekend 2, which normally means I’ve got a list of news show to tell you about. But for once, I’ve nothing new to report, because all of my recommendations started earlier this week. We do, however, have a lot of shows ending this weekend, so this is your last chance.

Finishing today is Havisham at the Rotunda, the retelling of the tragic villain’s story from Great Expectations, and A Guide to Therapy for Terrible People at Caxton Arms which I’ve heard has just got a five-star review from Voice Magazine. What you have to do to get a five-star review about Guinea Pig Jesus I’m not sure, but he has.

Finishing on Sunday is the unofficial Daniel Hird / Debbie Cannon takeover at Sweet @ the Poets: that’s deal with the devil story Old Bones, retelling of Sir Gawain Green Knight and Daniel Hird’s follow-up My Esteemed Friend. Old Bones has also got a five star review. And as a reminder: reviews are far and few between at Brighton. It’s not uncommon to get five stars in a sea of mediocre reviews at Edinburgh, but at Brighton this is a big deal. Daniel Hird gives a powerful performance so this five star is earned. Congratulations.

If you couldn’t catch Who Is No 1 earlier in the week, an extra performance has been added on Sunday, again at Latest Music Bar, 2.30 p.m. I thought two performances of a Foundry Group play would sell out quickly, and it did.

There also the second performance of family-friendlt and nerd-frendly Finlay and Joe at Laughing Horse (Quadrant) today at 2, and as always on a weekend Geoff Mead’s tours, which I’ll remind you has a new Pavilion Gardens tour this year. And I think that’s it – apologies to whoever I’ve inevitably forgotten.

Friday 12th May:

The rise of The Actors venue

And The Stand have already capitulated. Sorry Brighton, all the breaking news seems to be coming from Edinburgh at the moment. However, we’ve been distracted enough about that fringe, let’s get back to Brighton.

Now, venue-wise there are two notable absences in Brighton. Few people are mourning the end of The Warren, but the venue that is being missed is The Rialto. Alas, the building has been sold on. The Rialto Theatre was one of the most respected venues in Brighton Fringe, with a programme to rival the other big venues in terms of both size and critical acclaim.

However, there are many small theatres of a similar size to The Rialto’s, and one venue I want to keep an eye on is The Actors. I counted 35 registrations with The Actors, and this has actually overtaken Sweet Venues on 33. In practice, when you factor in Sweet Venues generally having longer runs Sweet is probably still ahead on the number of performances, but the fact a previously little-known name is coming level with one of the best-known ones on any measure is still notable.

If you don’t know the current name, however, you may know the former name: the Marlborough. The pub itself is now known as the actors rather than The Marlborough, but it is still one of Brighton’s best known LGBTQ-friendly pubs. There does seem to be a heavy LGBTQ slant in The Actors’ programme (amongst them Fabulett 1933 that I saw in Edinburgh), but there again this is Brighton and there’s an LGBTQ slant everywhere.

I guess the key question is which direction The Actors chooses to go in. With the implosion of big centralised venues, there is certainly scope for a single venue to become the hub of LGBTQ theatre at Brighton Fringe – if they want that. Or they could opt to be more ambitious and try to fill the gap left by the Rialto and take their place as a top go-to venue. My current hunch is they’ll go for the former, but I’m not certain. And with three spaces to utilise, The Actors has a lot capacity if they want to use it.

I’ll be keeping an eye out – this venue may surprise us all.

Thursday 11th May:

Latest on Edinburgh Fringe 2023 size

Speaking of Edinburgh, this is where I am tonight. No, I haven’t got my fringes mixed up, I know this one isn’t for another three months. I’m passing through on the way to Fort William.

Anyway, for the time being I’m going to stick with Edinburgh, because we have some breaking news today. The third of four batches of tickets went on sale today. With the size still being a hotly debated topic, this matters, because this will give us a heavy indication of where Edinburgh Fringe 2023 is going. In fact, I usually run Brighton Fringe coverage for a few days after for the big news of the final size. For reference, last year’s Edinburgh Fringe had 3,132 registrations at programme launch, compared to 3,841 in 2019. This time last year, there were about 2,000.

So, what’s the tally today? 2,940. Whoah. That’s almost 1,000 up. There is a possibility that registrations have been front-loaded due to acts wants to secure accommodation early (more one this later – a lot more). There was a bet between Brian Ferguson and Robert Peacock on whether 2023 would be up or down on 2022 – it now looks all but assured that 2023 will be up. If anything, this could top 2019’s figure, something Brian Ferguson floated that everybody dismissed as a fantasy at the time.

I have to say: I am nervous about this. Ticket sales have not been recovering as fast as the number of registrations, meaning that income per act is down (on average – income does of course vary enormously between acts). More alarmingly, however, is that accommodation prices are, by all accounts, going through the roof. And yet people are signing up.

One thing is certain: at least some of the old rules don’t apply any more. There was a time when growth was linked to sales – and if sales per show were down by over 10%, that would act as a major deterrent the following year. Not any more. The financial prospects of 2023 are considerably worse than 2022, and yet people are still signing up. And to remind you of the costs we’re talking about here: the worst that can happen at Brighton Fringe is that you sell no tickets and get left with a debt that takes years to clear – the worst than can happen at Edinburgh Fringe is that your house get repossessed. I have nothing but admiration for people who take risks to show what they can do to the world, but this is far too much to ask.

However, before we can find a resolution to this, we have a ban on short-term lets coming into effect, and that’s an event that will overtake everything. But that’s a topic for another day.

And besides, we’re supposed to be covering Brighton Fringe here. Coverage of the fringe actually running will resume tomorrow.

Wednesday 10th May:

My immediate thoughts on the Joanna Cherry row

As promised, let’s go over the the aforementioned Edinburgh Fringe shitstorm, and it is of course the controversy over Joanna Cherry MP getting cancelled at the stand.

If you don’t know what’s going on here … well done. But a recap, as you might be aware, it that over the last few months in Scotland politics (and, more specifically, the SNP) the issue of trans rights and self-ID has been bitterly divisive. One of the ringleaders on the “gender critical” side was Joanna Cherry. Now, I have long since given up trying to follow this debate, because I can never keep up with what people are being condemned for saying versus what they actually said. What is certain, however, is that for one reason or another Joanna Cherry has made a lot of enemies.

The Edinburgh Fringe started getting mixed up with this when Joanna Cherry was invited to a series of events organised by Fair Pley called “In Conversation with …” at The Stand. (As I understand it, Fair Pley and The Stand are part of the same company; however, Fair Pley operates autonomously of the venue side of the business – this will become relevant shortly.) A comedian named Bethany Black pulled out a performance at the Stand in protest – in Glasgow. At first, The Stand stood their ground, insisting that that they respect the rights to different views, and besides, Joanna Cherry was going to talk about all sort of issues relating to her political career, not just trans rights. However, after staff there refused to work, The Stand changed its tune and said that as they were now unable to staff the venue the event now wouldn’t be going ahead.

Joanna Cherry is now threatening legal action – and based on my knowledge of the law, she may well get her way. But before I go into the rights and wrongs of a censorship issue, I’m going to go for a more fundamental hot take.

There is a reason why I find it hard to care about this event too much … I don’t think arts venues should be hosting talks with politicians at al.

Don’t get me wrong. A lot of art is political. There are some very persuasive plays and films and paintings and books that could only have been influential in their art form. But whilst art and politics can go very well together, arts venues and politicians are a different matter. The one thing all these events have in common is that people who like the sound of their own voice almost always dislike being challenged in any way. One frequent offender is famous artists who sign up to causes, and the press who used to interview them about their latest album/book/play now fawn over their new-found political principles, however hypocritical they way be. No way are they going to get any pushback – any publication who tries that will never be given an interview again.

Actual politicians, on the other hand, don’t have their values taken at face value. Everything is scrutinised – the good argument survive, the poor/hypocritical/self-serving arguments fall apart. And yet arts venues don’t seem capable of anything more than a soft-ball interview. What’s more, many arts venues that pride themselves on political theatre really want one event after another where audiences have their own views spoon-fed back to them. The plays might be good – but the interviews with politicians and artist-politicians are little more than sycophantic farces.

True, Fair Pley does make make an effort to accommodate political figures with a wide range of views. If soft-ball interviews are given to politicians all over the political spectrum, you do at least have the option of hearing all these views and deciding who’s right. Unfortunately, that is no longer an option. My understanding it that Fair Pley were dead against having any of their speakers censored, but were overruled. If The Stand or the staff there have the power to ban anybody whose views they don’t like, you’re straight back to a BFF club where only politicians with approved vetted views get to have their say.

Okay, this is a broad-brush statement of principle, it may not work in practice. One political event going on at the moment is Alastair Campbell and Rory Stewart’s political podcast at the Royal Albert Hall – it’s hard to imagine where could go instead. But, in general, we should not be giving politicians soft-ball interviews. They belong in studios and council chambers and Parliamentary chambers and debating halls being grilled every step of the way. If you want sycophantic interviews for the supports, by all means do that, but arts venues are not the right place. Arts venues should be places of critical thinking, and the art itself does that quite well. But arts venues are terrible at critical thinking when rolling out the red carpet to politicians.

Of course, we know that this kind of treatment doesn’t apply to politicians. Artists have also had projects cancelled – and completely inoffensive projects at that – as punishment for views they have previously expressed.

What are the rights and wrongs there? Find out another time.

Tuesday 9th May:

More recommendations and some housekeeping

Oh, this is embarrassing, I missed one. As I have just added to my Brighton Fringe preview, A Guide to Therapy for Terrible People started yesterday. I haven’t heard of this show or the performer Joe Kirkwood, but it stands out as the most bizarre entry I’ve seen: in this case something that features Guinea Pig Jesus. Apologies for not mentioning this yesterday, but you’ve got until Saturday to see this. At the Caxton Arms, mostly 6.45 p.m., except for 5.30 p.m. Friday and 10.45 p.m. Saturday.

And whilst we’re on the subject, we may as well cover the on other thing coming up: On Thursday, Havisham starts, and runs until Saturday. This is from Heather Alexander, who did the unusual concept on a stage adaptation of an essay rather the a story in Room. She did a fine performance of Virginia Woolf, which should transfer well to the vengeful spinster from Great Expectations. On at The Rotunda, 7.45 over the three days.

Now, a bit of housekeeping for how this live coverage works. The main feature of this coverage will be reviews. That will be only be starting on the 19th when I arrive, but after that I will aim to get out reviews as soon as possible – and, if possible, whilst the play is still running. I write reviews whether or not I was there on a press ticket. Increasingly, however, my Brighton and Edinburgh coverage is dominated by press tickets, which I now struggle to keep on top of. (I sometimes leave out reviews if I feel I have nothing either positive or helpful to say, but that’s becoming a rarity at this level.)

Obviously I can’t review anything that’s not running whilst I’m there – and whether you suffer that fate is largely down to luck. Even amongst those I can see, I still can’t catch everything. I do sometimes branch out of theatre into overlapping categories, but I generally don’t review stand-up comedy, music, dance or pre-20th century plays – it’s not that I dislike them, but I don’t see enough of these to know how to review fairly. If you are out of luck, it’s worth contacting me again if you go to Edinburgh. One thing that heavily encourages me is if I sense you specifically want a review from me. So for me, persistence pays.

And one final reminder is that this won’t be entirely Brighton Fringe coverage – if any news breaks elsewhere that is noteworthy, it might get discussed here. In particular, Edinburgh Fringe will be getting some attention as we get a better idea what their 2023 fringe will be like. But we have some news already, and boy, this is a shitstorm. I will start on this one tomorrow.

Monday 8th May:

Coming up in week 1

We’re now into week 1, and even though it’s mid week, for my recommendations we’re already in rush hour.

The big event this week is the beginning of Daniel Hird and Debbie Cannon’s takeover (in effect) of Sweet @ the Poet’s. We start at 4.30 today with Old Bones, and excellent piece of storytelling written by Jen McGergor, but which Daniel Hird has made his own. James Napier is a young man with a story to tell, but in spite of talking to a modern audience in modern times, his story goes back 400 years, due to an ill-advised deal with the devil – not because the devil tricked him, but because he devil game him what he wanted. If there’s one play that hammers home the moral of “Be careful what you wish for,” it’s this one. Short notice for today, I realise (unless you’re already in the right bit of Hove), but it runs until Sunday.

The rest of the takeover comes over the next couple of days, but on Tuesday at 7.30. Daniel’s other new play starts, My Esteemed Friend, with little to know about this other than the cryptic teaser of “What use is a King that doesn’t protect his pawns?” And joining both on Wednesday to complete the set is Debbie Cannon with the excellent Green Knight, a retelling of the legend of Sir Gawain. Nothing in the story is changed, but by telling the story as Lady Bertilak, there’s a whole new dimension added to the story that the Knights of the Round Table never knew. That is on at 6. And if you’re coming for one of Old Bones or Green Knight, I strongly recommend sticking around for the other. All plays run until Sunday.

Meanwhile, starting at 7.30 p.m. tonight we have Who is No. 1? From the Foundry Group, bets known for Underdogs and Big Daddy Versus Giant Haystacks, is a story of the origin of the innovative/incomprehensible cult TV series The Prisoner. The line-up of the actors is quite something too, including Ross Gurney-Randall (or Big Daddy himself), and Robert Cohen, who impressed me with a string of his solo plays (Harvey Matusow, High Vis and Something Rotten). There another performance tomorrow at 7.30, with the final one next week. This is billed as a “preview presentation”, so hopefully if you can’t make it this time round there’ll be more chances. This is at Latest Music Bar, just east of Spiegeltent.

And finally, The Unknown Soldier starts tomorrow at 6.00 p.m. This is the smash hit that shot Ross Ericson to fringe greatness, and if you haven’t seen it before I highly recommend you take the chance here. It’s not so much about the full bloody horrors of World War One, but what happened after, with a clever twist regarding who Jack is telling the story to and who the Unknown Soldier is. Runs until Thursday at The Rotunda. There are other Ross Ericson plays coming up later in the fringe, but this is by far the best.

I’ll be back on Thursday with some more, but this should keep you busy.

Sunday 7th May:

Fringe City moves to Caravanserai

The other thing to look out for on weekends is Fringe City. If you’ve planned your whole visit in advance (or if you’re a reviewer whose schedule is jam-packed with review requests), you won’t need to go anywhere near this, but if you’re looking for things to sample, this is the equivalent of the Royal Mile on Edinburgh.* There are some stages where acts (mainly music, dance and comedy) perform excepts on their shows – and if you like it, you’ll be welcome to see the full one.

*: Actually, the Royal Mile at Edinburgh Fringe isn’t like it used to be, but that’s a subject for another day.

This year, however, it’s moved. It was previously in the busy and venue-neutral location of New Road, next to Brighton Pavilion. This year, however, it’s moved to the relatively untested location of inside Caravanserai. It is likely to a be a busy location, assuming Caravanserai can manage a similar footfall to The Warren. (In effect, we can treat Caravanserai as a replacement for The Warren.) But it’s certainly not a venue-neutral location. Might this sideline acts that aren’t with this venue? Maybe, if we’re not careful. However, on balance, I think this move is the right decision. Here’s why.

The problem is with flyering. On the Royal Mile in Edinburgh and many other locations, you can safely assume most of the people hanging around are there for the fringe, of which many will be looking for something to do. That is not the case in Brighton. Most people are there for drinking, partying, the beach, or simply people who live there going about their day. Even on New Road during Fringe City afternoons. Trust me, I’ve been there. Productive flyering means going to places where there are lots of people around for the fringe; I’ve had some quite productive flyering sessions in Buxton once I knew where to go, but Fringe City was a waste of time – even the people watching the fringe city acts were mostly not interested in going to fringe events. (Okay, some acts have more success if they have any eye-catching costumes or props to get attention, but most of us don’t have that advantage.)

Caravanserai, I reckon, is going to be a safer bet. Although some people have previously come to pop-up venue like The Warren and Speigeltent to do nothing but drink, I’d it’s a pretty safe bet that most people there are going to be receptive. True, there’s no rule saying you can’t flyer in venues other than your own, but without being explicitly encouraged to do that I can see a lot of acts being put off. With Fringe City being for all of the fringe and not just one venue, I can see this being our best bet for entry-level acts to have a fair chance against established acts in the publicity game. (And, okay, I know that flyering isn’t as cool as it used to be, what with the paper it uses, but it’s the engagement between performers and perspective punters that counts. If you’ve using QR codes instead of flyers, everything I’ve said still applies.)

An obvious drawback? We’re putting a lot of trust in one venue to treat acts at other venues fairly. It’s easy to say this in hindsight, but one complaint I’ve frequently heard about The Warren is that they were behaving like Brighton Fringe revolves around them. If that’s true (big if), I wouldn’t have trusted them to fost an event supposed to represent everyone. However, one small but important detail is that Caravanserai might be hosting Fringe City, but it’s still Brighton Fringe who’s in charge of it, and I hope they’d have the sense not to have favouritism to one act. Might one venue still be obstructive to acts not with them? Maybe. However, the early anecdotes I’m hearing is that Caravanserai seem to be quite accommodating to non-Caravanserai acts. I hope so.

I guess a lot of this comes down to whether you have a culture of pulling together. Buxton Fringe has been doing venue-neutral events in venues for years – it’s quite normal for Green Man Gallery to host the programme launch, Underground Venues to host the launch party, and Rotunda to host the awards ceremony, and everybody understand these events are for the whole fringe. It’s harder to imagine this working at Edinburgh, where most venues are big commercial venues with strong interests in keeping business for themselves. We don’t really have any precedent for Brighton Fringe, but we’re about to find out.

My early hunch is that we might be able trust Caravanserai to be a fair Fringe City host, be we can certainly trust Brighton Fringe to make sure they behave. I hope my trust is not misplaced.

Saturday 6th May:

How will ticket sales do?

Good evening. Hope you’ve had a good day going woo woo yay the king. Or just having a relaxing day at the pub. Or watching every bit of the Coronation whilst constantly tweeting how you’re not the slightest bit interested in it. Whatever.

Now, one of the earliest questions of how Brighton Fringe unfolds is how business fares. Until recently, the festival fringe circuit has been remarkably resilient. Edinburgh and Brighton both went through a credit crunch and austerity and Brexit and business carried on going up and up and up like nothing has happened. Even in 2021, the fringe shows that were running were easily getting full houses. Although, in hindsight,. the optimistic outlook in 2021 was deceptive. Attendance per show was artificially inflated by a small number of shows to go round, and Edinburgh and Brighton fringes were amongst the first events coming out of lockdown that people were eager to go to.

Whatever the reasons, last year’s business was underwhelming, although it’s not entirely clear why. Jitters about the cost of living were starting to come to the fore in 2022; there were also people still nervous about returning to crowded public spaces, and there is the possibility that some people have just got out of the habit of going to fringe events and have gone for good. We are now in 2023, fears of Covid are receding further, but the big headwind: the cost of living crisis is biting a lot more now. Will this harm ticket sales?

At this point, it is worth asking how much this actually matters. The conventional wisdom is that the more money is made from ticket sales, the more viable it is to take part in a fringe, and the more people can take part. But is that actually right? Edinburgh Fringe is becoming super-expensive if you don’t already live there, and ticket sales only make a small dent in the costs. That’s not the point though: most people taking part consider the expense a worthwhile investment for something: maybe developing your craft, maybe hoping you’ll be picked up by something more lucrative. I recommend (unless you have an act tried and tested to get an audience) you budget a fringe show against ticket revenue of zero – it won’t be that bad, but you’ll be financially covered against the worst-case scenario. If that’s the case: do poorer prospects of ticket sales really act a deterrent? After all, a worst-case scenario of sales can’t fall below zero.

My guess is that for many acts, yes, it still is enough of a factor.* It’s not just money, audience size matters too – even the greatest enthusiasts can only give their all to an audience of three a finite number of times. Where I think this really matters, however, are the venues. Many venues run on a ticket split system – and a lot of those that don’t count on ancillary income such as bar sales, also threatened by cost of living squeeze. Big venues can’t function without income to pay staff; and whilst small venues can achieve a lot through dedicated volunteers, there’s only so much time you can put in before your energy runs out. Good prospects for income gives venues the confidence to expand in a sustainable way; poor prospects cause venues to scale down if you’re lucky, go bust of you’re not.

* For what it’s worth, I was considering taking part this year, but my lack of confidence in the current climate swayed me to no. Conversely, I’m kicking myself for not doing Edinburgh Fringe 2021, which I would have snapped up had I known how well that was selling.

By Tuesday next week, we should have some anecdotal evidence one way or the other for how things are going. Resist the temptation to draw conclusions from individual shows: the fortunes amongst different acts will vary enormously, and it’s difficult to tell if a sell-out/disappointment is part of a trend or an outlier. Of course, this is not a typical weekend – we have no idea if the Coronation will have an effect on business, and if so, which way it pushes it. So we might have to wait until week 2 to have a good idea (by which time, we should have some numerical data to go on).

The short version is that going into Brighton Fringe, the cost of living crisis is the number one concern. In a few days time, we should have a better idea of whether it’s something to worry about.

Friday 5th May:

Coming up in weekend 1

Here it goes. Day 1 of Brighton Fringe proper. One thing I will be doing with this live coverage is give reminders of what’s coming up, which I typically to twice a week: one for mid-week and one for weekend.

Most of the things I have on my list don’t start until the first weekend, but there a few things to get going.

At various points throughout Brighton Fringe we’re going to have Police Cops. Originally called The Pretend Men, this trio had an unexpected smash hit with Police Cops, which was a parody of basically every cop show made in the 1970s. After that, a follow-up was all but guaranteed, and what’s better over-used genre in the 1970s than sci-fi. This is in the comedy category rather than theatre, and the performances very much go for silliness first and plot a long way second, but the three are praised for their slick, funny and high every performance. Police Cops in Space is on this Friday, Saturday and Sunday at 7.15 p.m, and Caravaserai.

Alternatively, if you want a very different kind of comedy, you might want to check out Aidan Goatley’s 10 Films with my Dad, a comedy show which sparked off a whole series of follow-ups. I haven’t seen the original, but I did get to see The 12 Films of Christmas, which cover discussions over whether Christmas films should be played by the Muppets, which Muppets you would cast in The Muppets’ Die Hard, and from there which Die Hard actors you would cast in Die Hard’s Christmas Carol. It’s not explicitly a family show, but there is still something reassuring wholesome about a comedy show themed around family time together. It’s showing tomorrow and Sunday at 4.30 p.m. at Sweet Poets, and returns in the final weekend.

One things that is on every weekend but I’ll mention on is Geoff Mead’s Tours. I don’t normally go anywhere near the Tours section of the programme, but in the much diminished 2020 Fringe where this was the only option for a morning’s entertainment, I took it up. Geoff Mead really knows this stuff and is seemingly able to answer any question thrown at him. If you are a regular to Brighton Fringe and you’ve wondered why the city is how it is, this is a worthwhile change from your normal fayre.

And finally, one thing not on my recommendations list. My list is almost entirely plays and performers I’ve seen before. If I was to list everybody I’ve heard good things about, the list would never end. But since we have a short list for the opening weekend, now’s a good time to mention Drag Queens versus Vampires, from the team that brought you Drag Queens versus Zombies. (Thinks: what’s the third show going to be? There’s the killing lots of zombies trope, killing lots of vampires trope, surely there’s more?) One half of this act is Kate Butch, who’s a regular at Buxton Fringe. Never got round to seeing that show, but it’s one of the most popular acts in the High Peak. Two Drag Queens on their way to Eurovision take a wrong turning in Transylvania and- … I think we get the idea.

So that’s weekend 1 set up. Tomorrow, we take stock of where we are with Brighton Fringe, and what’s at stake over the next month.

Thursday 4th May:

My list of recommendations

And before we start Brighton Fringe proper, we’ll begin with the full list of recommendations. The Brighton Fringe Preview has now been written as far as Bold Choice, with the rest due to be written up as soon as possible. But if you can’t wait to know who’s on the full list, you can take a look here:

Safe choice:

Blue Blood
The Unknown Soldier
Green Knight
Old Bones

Bold choice:

Chemistry
Havisham
Who is No. 1?
Renfield
My Esteemed Friend
Talking to the Dead
Jekyll and Hyde
This is Normal

You might like …

Lulu
Fabulett 1933
Geoff Mead’s Tours
Police Cops

Wildcards:

Lachlan Werner: Voices of evil
Toy Stories
A Guide to Therapy for Terrible People

Also of note:

Experiment Human

From the comedy:

10 films with my dad
Crime Scene Improvisation
Finlay and Joe: Perpetual Hype Machine
Biscuit Barrel

And that’s all from me today. Anyone fancy joining me watching election results?

Wednesday 3rd May:

Welcome

Welcome to my live coverage of Brighton Fringe. Brighton Fringe only officially starts on Friday, but the venues are going up and publicity is being ramped up as we speak.

[Image credit: Julian Caddy]

Yet again, we are in line for an unpredictable fringe season. 2020 and 2021 were unpredictable for obvious reasons. 2022, supposed to be the season of back to business, had new problems – not least, in the case of Brighton, the implosion of its biggest venue. Surely, surely, surely, things will be settling down by 2023?

Not just yet. Brighton Fringe has had yet another reconfiguration of venues, some planned, some unplanned. For the story so far, you can reading the opening of my Brighton Fringe Preview. And amongst all of this, there is a cost of living crisis. In previous economic crises, the Fringes managed to sail on like nothing has happened; the early signs from last year, however, is that it’s going to bite.

But it’s going to be a lot of fun too. I’ll be arriving at Brighton Fringe on the 18th May, when I will embark on reviews. Before then, if you’re in Brighton, do have fun. And I’ll be watching from afar and commenting on how things are going.

Stayed tuned. It’s a long month ahead of us.

 

Edinburgh Fringe 2022 – as it happens

Thursday 1st September

And that’s it. This is the end of my Edinburgh Fringe coverage, and the end of a fringe marathon that has involved reviewing, performing, venue management, and back to reviewing again. All this will be summarised in the fringe roundups in due course, but in the meantime, here is a recap of what went down at Edinburgh Fringe 2022.

• By far the most pressing issue facing Edinburgh Fringe is accommodation costs. This has been raised time and time again and is clearly a barrier for lots of would-be performers. Unfortunately – and in spite of the Festival Fringe’s efforts to secure some affordable accommodation – there isn’t that much anyone in the fringe can do to stop this. And worse, the early signs are that the overcharging landlords show every sign of wanting to do the same next year. Unless the City Council intervenes, it’s hard to see how or when this will end.
• In line with the earlier fringes, audience figures are recovering, but not as fast as participation. Sales were down 27% on 2019 against registrations down 17%, which works out as a fall of 11% sales per registration. That’s not too bad, considering some of the panic at the start of the fringe, but it’s probably going to be a dampener on further growth.
• There has been a lot of in-fighting this year. The Festival Fringe Society has come in for a lot of criticism; the support for national media and lack of an app have been particularly controversial. (Other matters such as the virtual half-price ticket hut and lack of paper programme availability are I think over-rated.) To some extent they’ve been caught in the middle of a struggle between the big acts and venues seeking to restore their prestige, and the smaller venues and acts who are struggling to even get one review.In my opinion, the fundamental mistake made by the Festival Fringe Society was trying to do both and ending up pleasing no-one. They probably need to decide which of the two they want to prioritse.
• There was also an ugly incident halfway though the fringe when a shock comedian had his second of two performances pulled following complaints over his material. There’s a lot of claims and counter-claims going on here, but I’m firmly of the opinion that The Pleasance handled this badly. Most specifically, if – as they claimed – his material was not acceptable for this venue, why did they programme him in the first place? I may summarise all of this another time, but either they’ve crossed the line into censorship, of they’ve made Jerry Sadowitz into a martyr. Or both.
• Despite all this, the fringe itself as run smoothly and it’s been just as much fun as any fringe from before times. That, I think, gives the festival fringe society a breather. Just like the Olympics in 2012, the complaints didn’t carry nearly such weight once everyone started having a good time.
• From a local perspective, Durham Fringe has had an excellent August, with plenty of acts that went to Durham Fringe going on to make a name for themselves in Edinburgh. One particularly notable milestone is that one act, Experiment Human, got a major award, which can only help to put Durham Fringe on the map. (Okay, I teched for this at Durham so I’m biased, but honestly, this is great news for us.)
• The Space also had a good fringe. It operates on a first-come-first-served basis, but in before times had a notoriety for being the place for acts not good enough to get into any other venue. Perhaps thanks to their push to get going in 2021 when many other venues were keeping their heads down, they’ve taken on a lot of good acts this year, and The Space has a new air of respectability it didn’t have before.
• There’s been a few other niggles I’ve picked up during this fringe. It didn’t help that Fringe Central was out fo the way in a shopping centre (even though it saved a lot of money). Signage within venues has been getting confusing, and it would really help everybody if press tickets could be streamlined better. But there are minor issues comapred to the big ones.

On the whole I think the Festival Fringe Society can breathe a sigh of relief. The worst is probably behind them and they can focus on what went wrong in 2022 and put it right for 2023. The only thing they might need to brace for is a smaller fringe in 2023 – and that will be a problem is anything less than a return to 2019 levels is considered a failure. But do we really want that? The sooner we realise size isn’t everything, the better.

Thank you to everyone who’s been following me through this. I am now going on holiday for a week, and then it’s back to coverage of north-east theatre. Local followers, stay tuned. Fringe fans, I’ll see you back in May.

Wednesday 31st August:

And here it is. The moment of truth. Who has made it to Pick of the Fringe?

First, a reminder of the rules. Anyone who I saw performed this year who is listed with Edinburgh Fringe is eligible for this award (except those plays I worked with as venue host as there’s a conflict of interest). If I saw something at another fringe, I don’t normally see it in Edinburgh again as I don’t have time, so this is my way of giving those plays I saw in the run-up to Edinburgh a fair chance against those I saw in Edinburgh itself. Plays I’ve seen before are eligible – this is one of my ways of keeping the standard high. Where I felt a performance wasn’t enough like theatre to make a meaningful comparison (including Finlay and Joe, Jess Robinson, and How I Learned What I Learned), I left it out of the list, and they will be handled separately.

Plays in (round brackets) I saw at Brighton, Buxton and Durham Fringes; plays in [square brackets] I’ve seen in previous years. The remaining plays I saw for the first time in Edinburgh 2022. They are:

Pick of the Fringe:

An Audience with Stuart Bagcliffe
(The Ballad of Mulan)
The Bush
Ghislaine/Gabler
[Green Knight]
Gulliver
[Jekyll and Hyde: A One-Woman Show]
The Land of Lost Content
Make-Up
(No One)
[Mustard]
Second Summer of Love
[Skank]
(Vermin)
Sugar
Svengali

Honourable Mention:

Antigone, the musical
Beg for Me
Famous Puppet Death Scenes
Fabulett 1933
Ghost Therapy
(The Glummer Twins)
(Head Girl)
The In-Laws
Morecambe
(Nyctophilia)
(Room)
(Sex, Lies and Improvisation)
Salamander
Take It Away Cheryl
Utter Mess!

After two years of being relaxed, I’ve raised the bar. At least five plays in Honourable Mention would have gone up a tier if the standard we a little bit lower. Well done to everyone. You can all now relax.

Tuesday 30th August:

So that’s the end of Edinburgh Fringe. There’s just a few things to wind up before we close this, and the first one is the news that always comes at the end of the fringe: how did the ticket sales do? Normally, we would be looking at a few percent here and there. If registrations grew by 4%, 6% in sales would show this is sustainable, 2% would suggest otherwise. However, there were alarm bells ringing at the start of the fringe over pre-sales being down by 30%. It is not clear whether that meant 30% behind overall sales in 2019, or 30% of sales per show. The former would have been a problem, but the latter would have been a disaster had it been reflected in all sales.

Well, Edinburgh Fringe has reported 2,201,175 ticket sales for 2022, compared to (and I think this is the like-for-like figure) 3,012,490 in 2019. That means sales are at 73% of 2019 level. As previously reported registrations are 82% of 2019 levels, if you compare those registered in time for the printed programme. That means tickets per registration work out at about 88%. If we take into account a small shift towards shorter runs in theatre, the number edges up a bit more. Regardless, I think 88% isn’t too bad, considering how much panic there was before.

Usual caveat applies: this is an average. The average alone doesn’t tell us much about variances within those numbers. Some people sold out their entire runs in advance of the fringe. Some people have sadly reported getting audiences of zero in the last few days. Anecdotally the mood seems to be that ticket sales started off okay but tailed off in weeks 2 and 3, hence the unplanned push for 2 for 1 tickets by the big venues. The venues under the edfest.com umbrella are reporting a 25% fall though, so there doesn’t seem to be much of a difference between the big venues and small ones.

Why is there a fall? Difficult to tell. There are two obvious drivers but it’s impossible to tell which one is at play. The first one is ongoing Coronavirus worries from some people still wary about crowds (which certainly seems to have been a problem at Buxton); the second one is worries about costs of living and people tighten their belts. Similar worries over finances and economies in 2008-2009 made no dent in sales figures, but perhaps there’s more worries this time. Does it matter which one is the cause? Yes it does – because that decides when this problem is going away. I’m getting increasingly confident the worst of Covid is well behind us, whilst cost of living problems are probably going to haunt us into summer 2023 at least. However, there is one other thing to consider about Covid which cost of living may exacerbate: we now have people who, for one reason or another, have stayed away for three years. That might become permanent, and even in Covid and war in Ukraine were magicked away tomorrow, these people have got out of the habit and are never coming back.

So, what does this mean for Edinburgh Fringe 2023? I can’t see 2022 levels being sustained myself. As well as the discouraging precedent set by the ticket sales, there’s the various disappointments over fringe 2022 which will be dampening expectations for next year. What’s more, I suspect 2022’s numbers were artificially inflated by people who had postponed fringe plans over the last two years – that won’t apply next year. I guess a lot will depend on what happens with accommodation. I have hearing unconfirmed reports that landlords renting for next year’s fringe are being just as extortionate, and, if anything, are ramping up prices even more. I don’t see how the Festival Fringe Society can offset this single-handedly, and the only thing I can see making a difference is if Edinburgh City Council pull their finger out and intervene. And they’re going to have to do this in the next few months if they don’t want people writing off Fringe 2023 as unaffordable.

On the plus side, we have a battle royale between the media heavyweights. Robert Peacock predicts a big fall, Brian Ferguson predicts an all-time high. Whatever happens, I do hope we can drop the collective mentality that anything less than regaining all lost ground from 2019 is a failure. Edinburgh Fringe would be a great festival even if it was half its current size – and if it has to share the limelight with other festivals, that’s not a bad thing. And if it puts a stop to greedy landlord, it might even be better.

Monday 29th August, 8.00 p.m. – How I Learned What I Learned:

The memoirs of August Wilson

We are at the last review. First, a note about why I picked this one for review. I normally have a policy of not giving anybody preferential treatment because they’re part of an underrepresented group. I certainly don’t choose to review a play just because it’s advertised as female-led, nor do I review the female-led plays I choose to see more favourably. There is a very good reason for this: they don’t need preferential treatment: I monitor my picks of the fringe every year and there’s always been an even split between the two. As such, I am firmly of the position that it’s better to be absolutely clear that no-one gets a leg-up. I don’t want anybody saying “She’s only got a good review because she’s a woman”. Everybody on Pick of the Fringe has earned their place.

However, racial diversity is another matter. As I’ve already mentioned (scroll to 24th August), I do think there’s is a problem with lack of participation from artists who aren’t white. One of these days, I might look more into why this is and what can be done; in the meantime I’m happy to let the people affect have their say. Equally, however, I worry – based on my own observations as a neurodivergent artist (scroll to 24th August again) – that theatre has a pretty poor respect of agency. For at least some minorities, the voices theatres choose to platform suspiciously resemble the views that the leaderships assumes the respective minorities hold, whilst ignoring all criticism from those who dissent. This was a review request and I probably would have picked it anyway, but there was one thing that particular stood out here: there’s no question of agency here. There’s no doubt that August Wilson’s autobiographical play of his life – written when he was one of America’s most respected literary playwrights – is his voice and no-one else’s. For the record, I had no idea what was going to be in this play was, nor what his politics are. I was entirely doing this on the basis on hearing what he has to say.

The circumstances surrounding How I learned What I Learned are unusual. It was supposed to be performed by Wilson himself, but by the time he wrote it he was too ill to do it, and so he opened it up to other actors to perform, in this version by Lester Purry of Saints and Poet’s Theater. Racism does feature in this 90-minutes monologue quite prominently (indeed it start with the dark joke that for over 100 years after his family came to America, there was never any trouble finding a job), but not as much as you might think. A lot of time, it’s simply life going on. Wilson recounts a whole host of eccentrics and friends and lovers he knew, including this first love in the nativity play and a shocking murder that taught him the lesson that you can say the wrong thing, but it’s worse for you to say the wrong things at the wrong time. This is a fully rounded portrait of life in a black neighbourhood in 1960s Pittsburgh.

And yet where racism does feature, that’s not what you might expect either. One rather telling phrase Wilson recounts is hearing the phrase “When you go to jail …” Not if. When. I can think of three possible interpretation of that phrase, but none of them were good. However, he talks very little about the big things such as who the cops arrest and who refuses to hire who, and instead talks about the little things. One thing you learn from Wilson’s story of his life as a young man is that he always stood his ground, even when the stakes seems low. He quits his job mowing lawns rather than help his boss appease the racist woman who won’t have a black man doing the job. Why not just mow another lawn like the boss suggests? He finishes off the play with the time when the bank cashier spend a suspiciously long time doing security checks on him, but that’s not what he objects to – it’s the lie that they didn’t have an envelope to put the money in. Why the focus on something so petty? The reason, Wilson argues, is precisely BECAUSE it’s petty. It’s not much, but it’s still a small-minded power-trip, and is completely deliberate. Tolerate that, and it won’t end there.

And the verdict? This is a difficult one – I make a point of reviewing on how well crafted the story is rather than approval of any message within the play. I personal think the key message of standing up to pettiness is a good one and it is well argued – indeed, this is a pattern I’ve been noticing lately over all forms of prejudice of low-level but completely deliberate acts to get one over someone, both now and historically, and yes, it’s a problem that I think a lot of people underestimate. But it’s an unhealthy practice to write favourable review based on how much it validates the reviewer’s views. So, I would never tell anybody that it your duty to agree with what a play says. But if another performance of this play comes along, I would encourage you to hear what August Wilson had to say. When people talk about racism the discussion is usually on the big issue. This is a compelling case for standing up to the little things.

Monday 29th August, 6.30 p.m. – Famous Puppet Death Scenes:

 

Funny. And pretentious. But ironically pretentious.

I nearly ran out of time, but I couldn’t let a second fringe go by without seeing for myself exactly what this weirdly-titled performance is about. Had I known that writer and master puppeteer Louisa Ashton of Sparkle and Dark was one of the three puppeteers in this, I would have cleared my diary in the first week. I’d previously mused this would either be funny or pretentious. Well, I wasn’t quite right – it’s not either/or, the performance is funny AND pretentious. But it’s ironically pretentious rather than unironically pretentious, and that’s a defining feature of this show.

Famous Puppet Death Scenes works by sustaining a number of in-jokes. Yes, we know this is a comedy really, but it’s presented as something deathly serious. The action takes place in an around a puppet marquee which is both colourful yet strangely macabre. And then we a treated to the most heartbreaking, sombre and respectful re-enactments of famous death scenes reacted by puppets. Or maybe it’s death scenes of puppets so famous they’re being re-enacted by more puppets. In reality, however, these stories are all completely fictitious, created for the purposes of showing the unfortunate puppets about to meet their makers (and I don’t mean the people who built them). One story that seems to have an awful lot of death scenes is “This Feverish Heart” by Nordo Frot, where copies of the same stout figure are continually splatted by a giant fist that comes out of nowhere, just because. There’s also the element of the surprise on when the unfortunate puppet is going to die, not to mention the unexpected on who dies and exactly when, and then there’s the recurring methods of death that become increasingly commonplace as the performance goes on. Finally, there’s the instructions for the audience, but instead of “Laugh”, “Laugh Hysterically” and “Applause” like they do for bad sitcoms, you’re more likely to be asked to say “Oh”, or clap – but do it somberly and respectfully.

One of my favourite death scenes was at the beginning was the children’s puppet show with two doors Ja and Nein, where selection of the wrong door (okay, either door) results in death full of blood, guts and bones from the monster that lies behind. The Old Trouts are a very versatile puppetry company, and use about every technique going. Frequently the puppet theatre raises and outside curtain and the puppeteers appear for some larger-scale puppeticide. For an operation involving three macabre-looking puppeteers, it is one of the most complex and sophisticated puppetry operations I’m seen pulled off at a fringe.

If there’s one weakness I’d pin on this performance, it gets predictable. It helps a lot to vary how the puppetry is being done, and switch between the surprise deaths and the obvious deaths (e.g. the star of The Ferverish Heart, who is probably getting sick of this by now), it inevitably hinges on variations of the same joke. Perhaps one area that might have been made to work better is managing the audience participation – or maybe I just came on a quiet day. But it doesn’t really matter because The Old Trouts have pulled off what everybody on the Fringe wants to do – a wild and bizarre original concept that is unique to them and audiences pick up and loves. A gamble like this could easily have backfired, so well done for pulling this off.

Monday 29th August, 5.00 p.m. – Salamander:

When polite society started to reach out to sex workers

Salamander seems to have enjoyed a very successful week-long run at the fringe, partly through to its local connections, and partly from the sudden pertinence of the subject following Edinburgh Council’s decision to ban strip clubs, which Pretty Knickers heavily used to market this play. My own interest in this play was helped along by an online play I saw last year called Cash Point Meet. They play had its flaws, but it did make a convincing case that clamping down on sex work – however good the intentions might be – end up doing more harm than good. I remember the time when Edinburgh made itself one of the most liberal cities, with so-called “licensed sauna”, and if you’re enough of a fringe old-timer you will remember the days when you walked past the building off Merchant Street with “SAUNA” written in grubby orange lettering, which was so obviously not where you go for a sauna.

This is set in the 1980s. Polite society is starting to realise that you can’t wash your hands of the sex industry, and the murder of a prostitute has prompted the Police to create a prostitute liaison officer. Much of the play was written around speaking to real people involved in the events. Four of the sex characters are working prostitutes: an assorted bunch of characters who have got into the business for various reasons. It soon becomes clear that, as far as they’re concerned, the closest thing they’ve got to the Police is each other. They each other which clients to steer clear of and look out for each other the best they can. Which means that Police Officer Pat’s job is to win over their trust. It’s far from an easy task, with a long history of looking the other way to contend with – and just when she’s making progress, other less tolerant people in authority do the something to set the whole thing back to square one.

The surprise character with the strongest story arc, however, is Joan. She appears at the first meaning as a representative for the Church and the Women’s Institute. “This is a terrible idea”, I’m already thinking. “The last we need is somebody trying to sell the virtues of less sex and more God.” But wait – Joan is not like that at all. We find out from her prayers that, far from a cringe-worthy evangelical mission, she genuinely wants to make life better for some of the most shunned woman in society, bit like Jesus did. However, she’s going it alone – the support from the church people who agreed to this is at best lukewarm, and most of her friends are horrified that she’s have anything to do with such people. That’s only half of it though. Some of the worst finger-waggers in public are regular clients in practice, and when someone close to Joan turns out to be one of them, things get nasty for everyone. Becky Niven’s performance as Joan is excellent and adds another dimension to the story.

One thing the play doesn’t say much about is the question over whether banning sex licences really does any favours – and with the current reasons appearing to be a new idealism of disapproving of women degrading themselves rather than the old-school puritanism of wanting nothing to do with those sort of people, that would have been very interesting. However, when a play script is so heavily based on speaking to real sex workers and listening to what they have to say, I am wary about trying to steer the message to support a point the play writers want to make. And, to be fair, this issue has cropped up very recently, and probably too late to work into any play. Regardless, this a good play that takes on an issue that some people have strong opinions on one way or the other, and handles it without sensation and just says it how it is. Sorry I’ve reviewed this too late to help with audience numbers, but it looks like it was already doing well from what I saw, and it’s earned.

Monday 29th August, 3.30 p.m. – Sleepover!

Could do with better characterisation

Cambridge University Musical Theatre got my attention last year with a showcase for one of the catchiest tunes out there – this time my interest was grabbed by the concept. 17-year-old Jenny is organising a Sleepover for her three besties, before they all go their separate ways. It’s taken ages for Jenny to get her mother to agree to something like this. However, there is a hidden agenda to this. What Jenny really wants out of this is a talk about everything she wants to know about sex but is afraid to ask. And in order to get round asking, she’s created a board game called “Sleepover” which involves answering questions on cards, all of which are obviously the aforementioned things about sex she wants to know. (Spoiler: her friends see through this ruse straight away.)

I really liked the idea of this, but where I felt this musical fell short was characterisation. That’s not unique to this show; On Your Bike produced by the same society last year was also let down a little by moments where key plot-driving decisions weren’t that believable. Okay, we are discussing musicals here, and it’s fair to remember that nobody spontaneously breaks out into song, but the songs are always more effective if you can believe the characters singing this means it and feels it. Here it feels more like the songs and issues were chosen first and the characters fitted around this. Any of these three 17-year-olds could be crushingly shy, confident and brash or anything else, but it has to be consistent. I find it difficult to believe that someone shy enough to create that board game wouldn’t be rumbled in the first five seconds – I also find it difficult that by the next song Jenny’s already shed her inhibitions to partake in “Get your titties out”.

The production values are good, and songs are managed well, and the set of a sleepover does a lot to add the the story. I would focus on the ending. At least two of the teenagers have uncomfortable secrets they’ve been holding back on, and those are the strongest opportunities for creating rounded believable characters. The big question, as always, is: why now? What has happened to persuade these characters to open up when they do? You might have a perfectly good answer in your head, but we need to know this, and conveying the information without spelling it out the challenge that needs to be addressed in the middle. And if that means you sometimes can’t include a song you wanted to include, or can’t talk about an issue you wanted to bring up, so be it.

At the end of the day, it comes down to what CUMTS wants Sleepover to be. It’s down in the comedy section rather than theatre or musical theatre; and the primary purposes of comedy is fun, which this achieves. But I think Jenny, Nina, Anita and Ruth deserve more than this, and I hope we can get to truly know them one day.

Monday 29th August, 2.00 p.m. – Antigone, the musical:

More cheese please

The first thing I will say about Hard Luck musicals is that I respect for doing the musical the hard but more rewarding way. Most fringe musicals understandably economise by sequencing and recording the backing music in advance. For those that choose to play the music live, they generally struggle – it is rare to see a live band in a fringe musical that gets all the tuning and balance right. Hard Luck musical, however, has a live nine-piece orchestra on stage playing to a pretty impressive standard, and – apart from some early tech problems with the stage mics – a good standard from the singing to.

For the first two third of this play, Antigone the musical does what it says on the tin. It tells the story of the fateful events that led to the heroine’s imprisonment by King Creon quite accurately, and also accessibly. Some musicals don’t bother with the motivations of the main characters, but there’s never once any doubt over what is motivating either Antigone to risk her life of Creon to insist on a death sentence over a matter as petty as giving someone a burial. And they could easily have stuck with this approach and gone right up to fateful moment when Creon has a change of heart too late.

And the comes the twist: apology for the spoiler, but in this version, Antigone doesn’t die. Haemon and Ismene incite a last-minute uprising and come to the rescue in the nick of time. That certainly is a different take on what we’re used to, but in terms of cheesiness it’s right up there with the version of The Titanic where the ship dodges the iceberg. That jars a bit with the down-to-earth faithful staging done to this point. I feel this could do with making a decision one way or the other: either a faithful adaptation or a cheesy adaptation, but I’m pretty sure the intention was the latter.

To be fair, a cheesy retelling probably needs some good movement direction to work to its full effect, with the orchestra taking up so much space, there wasn’t really much room in the space that was left. That’s not a problem unique to this musical – it’s always a bugger for any production with a cast of more than five to find a place which both gives you the space we need on stage and is affordable. If this is has a life beyond Edinburgh Fringe – and looks like it’s gone down well enough to achieve this – I hope this gets further performance on a stage that does this justice. And cheese away for all it’s worth.

Sunday 28^th August:

Edinburgh Fringe must make a choice

I’ve been out of the loop today as I’ve been in Amsterdam on a family thing. Coming back home now, still plan to get the remaining four reviews out of the way tomorrow. Just a reminder that if you aren’t happy with what I wrote in a review, the complaint procedure is here. Please be aware that if you write subtweets containing personal attacks thinking I won’t find them: they crop up on my timeline anyway. And please be aware that personal attacks based on me sometimes not sitting still (and whatever stupid judgement you draw from that) is technically speaking attacking someone for a disability. You know who you are.

Anyway, changing the subject, with me being out and about too much to concentrate on reviews today, I instead wrote my thoughts on the choice Edinburgh Fringe has to make. I have arrived at the view that the Festival Fringe Society’s #1 mistake this year was to bend over backwards trying to please everybody. They can either optimise the fringe to be the best possible opportunity for entry-level acts, or they can optimise the fringe to give maximum exposure to the best highly-regarded acts – but they cannot do both. I consider what either of these choices might look like – and a third possibility if the fringe and venues can’t agree on a way forwards.

Saturday 27th August:

What went down at the AGM

There’s going to be a hiatus in coverage this weekend. Sorry. Big family gathering coming and that’s going to take up most of my time. I count four outstanding reviews to complete, and I intend to spend Monday getting them all out.

Meanwhile … we have news on how sales are doing. According to the Scotsman, at the AGM at was reported that 1.5 million tickets had been sold, compared to 1.8 million at the some point in 2009. That would be about 83% of 2019 levels, and with registrations also at around 83% of 2019 levels, that’s okay. The only thing to watch out for is what happens in the last week. Anecdotally, it seems that sales starting off good but tailed off at the fringe went on. The final figures may be a bit more disappointing yet. (One small puzzle is that it was reported that the final sales in 2019 were 3 million, but to add an extra 1.2 million in the final week seems like a stretch, unless there’s a time lag between selling tickets and reporting it. Anyway, we’ll have a better answer in a week’s time.)

The other bit of news is that Shona McCarthy get a vote on confidence in the board.It’s harder to know what to make of that. It does mean that she’s not being booted any time soon – and with the bumpy fringe of 2022 almost done and dusted there’s reasons to believe the worst is over, with expectations of fringe 2023 and reality hopefully converging. However, the fact that a confidence vote was even discussed may be a problem. After all, Theresa May and Boris Johnson won confidence votes and we know what happened a few months later. All in all Shona McCarthy has won the battle, but the jury’s out on winning the war.

As far me – I am writing up my thoughts on what Edinburgh Fringe should do now. The mistake it made this year was trying to please everybody and ending up pleasing nobody. But who do you try to please? I will discuss this soon.

Friday 26th August – Jess Robinson, Legacy:

A look at character/impression comedy

Now for another occasional foray into a short-of character comedy. It is 2032 and the world is about to end. The last of the earth’s population has been evacuated on to rockets, except for super genius 20-year-old Jess Robinson, who was definitely born in 2012 and couldn’t possibly be lying about her age, or indeed her ability/reliability to be entrusted with anything important. She is taking a message from the supreme commander Olivia Coleman (yes, the Olivia Coleman, because she’s a national treasure who always gets the best parts). Anyway, the last task that needs completing is uploading a memory stick containing all of the world’s arts and culture. Apologies for the spoiler, but Jess does indeed fail to live up to her reputation of ultra-reliable agent and spilling wine on her laptop and everything is deleted. What a lucky coincidence! Jess is good at impressions! She can fill the gap that way. Some more refined connoisseurs might say we’re taking an awful of a implausible plot points to set this up but IT’S COMEDY DAMN IT WE’LL BE CONTRIVED IF WE WANT TO.

The problem with entrusting this task to Jess Robinson is that, well, she’s not actually that well read on culture. When she should have been watching high-brow nature documentaries she was gorging out on trash TV. And so, for example, when tasked with reconstructing clever nature documentaries narrated by David Attenborough, she does the David Attenborough voiceover for Love Island. That’s the same thing, isn’t it? Surely no-one will notice. In a sign of the times, we in a future where Liz Truss bombed as PM and Theresa May is back in charge. Yes, we’re already at the point where people are going “She was all right, really, I suppose,” God help us. Anyway, you get the idea. Other highlights including moments of the voice of her mother giving advice for anything but the moment in hand, and speed-impressions that Jess Robinson breaks into when stressed.

I can’t give a verdict on all of these impressions because I don’t keep up with popular culture and don’t recognise all of them (he says pretentiously), but those I saw were nailed pretty well. I’d say that Jess Robinson’s strength is impressions first and character comedy second, but that fine because this is the kind of comedy where the lead character’s decisions aren’t supposed to make sense or have any deep motivation. Nevertheless, some of the funniest comedy I’ve seen worked from believable characters behaving in a plausible way in the most ridiculous of situations, so perhaps there’s room to explore than in a future show. The production values are top-notch though. As well as the energetic performance and the impressions, she’s go a great singing voice and a slick backdrop in sync with her performance. This show is meant to fun and nothing more, and so should be judged on those terms, but if you’re after a fun night to round off a day of fringing, I can recommend this.

Thursday 25th August – Waterloo:

Not that explosive

This one grabbed my interest with the promise of a “dangerous” performance and an “explosive” interrogation of the intimate relationship between a high-ranking right-leaning military official and a bleeding-heart lefty greenie. This play has been on the fringe circuit in Australia and picked up a lot of accolades, and in Edinburgh has similarly been scooping praise from various reviews. What I hadn’t realised is that the performer Bron Batten was one half of this relationship. Which is fine – after all, a lot of ace solo plays are indeed based on the performer’s own real life experience. However, in this case the concept is complicated by the need to keep the identity of the other half confidential. Unfortunately, the solution to handle this problem is one I just don’t subscribe to.

The story is that Bron met the unnamed military officer is Paris, and set up an on-off relationship for the next five years, in spite of being politically ideological opposites. The thing, that’s not exactly what I’d call “explosive”. Couples who disagree with each other on political issues aren’t that unusual. There were a couple of events that might have had explosive results, such as stumbling across a documentary outlining what he’d done and how many people he’d killed, or even the fact he had a wife and family he’d failed the mention. However, the relationship carries on regardless. I estimate about on third of of the play was taken up by telling this story. The other two thirds were taken up by general thoughts on military action abroad and footage of a visit to a paintball session which is supposed to be R&D for this play, but doesn’t appear to have any function other than a self-referential inclusion in the performance. Oh, and at various points Bron stabs balloons whilst blindfolded, throws ping-pong balls in liquid air, and puts herself inside a balloon; I suppose any of this could be literally dangerous if Summerhall skipped their health and safety assessment, but I don’t understand how this piece is meant to be metaphorically dangerous. I just kept thinking: what does any of this have to do with the story?

To be fair, Bron Batten was constrained by what she could tell on stage. I do have my doubts over whether plays in this format really are a raw and uncensored as they’re meant to be – intimate relationships are messy and complicated. I would expect anyone out of a recent relationship to hold back on at least some details – certainly when you’re broadcasting details in public to a room of strangers – and even if you’re prepared to go no-hold-barred, warts and all, it can’t help when you’ve got to hold back on information that gives away the identity of the other person. Learning the darker side of the man you love would be a great twist in a normal play, but here it’s all redacted. With a lot of good reviews to this play, it’s clear there’s an audience for this format who like this play for what it is; as such, I don’t see any benefit to changing this now. But if you were to ask me how to do this story, I would have said forget about the true story completely. Keep the bits of the real story where they suit you, but where you can’t talk about what really happened, use your imagination to fill in the gaps. Give us the dangerous explosive relationship we’ve been built up for, and if it means taking liberties with the real story, so be it. This is, after all, a play.

Wednesday 24th August:

Why Edinburgh Fringe is more neurodiverse-friendly than regional theatre

As is customary, I take a break from review after I can back from a visit, so I don’t review someone on the day my brain recharges. Instead, I’m going to draw attention to an issue that may otherwise be talked about by the wrong people.

The age-old debate has flared up again on whether Edinburgh Fringe is diverse enough. The big ongoing debate is racial diversity. I might give my thoughts on that another day, but I’m quite happy to let the people involved speak for themselves for now. One thing that’s new this time is whether Edinburgh Fringe is neurodiverse enough. I swear I’ve seen a lot more shows about neurodiversity this time. Nevertheless, Simon Jay who founded neurodiverse review has questioned whether venues are accessible enough or making sufficient reasonable adjustments.

For it’s worth, whilst there probably is room for improvement, I think Edinburgh Fringe (and the fringe circuit in general) is ten times better for neurodiverse inclusion than regional theatres. And the reason why is agency – or rather, the lack of respect for agency elsewhere.

Don’t get me wrong – it is great to see plays cropping in regional theatres taking on the issue of neurodiversity, and whilst I maintain anyone should be allowed to write about anyone and anything, it is good that this is being led by neurodiverse artists. The problem is that the power of who to programme and who to support remains with the leadership of theatres, mostly people who are neurotypical. I should stress at this point I have no reason to doubt the authenticity of the voices of neurodivergent artists on stage, and I have no reason to believe is slavishly parroting opinions that someone in charge told them to say. But the fact remains that other people get to decide who gets a voice and stage and whose voices stay sidelined. And with programmers almost always knowing what hopeful artists intend to say should they get their break, it’s far too easy to curate your neurodiverse programme to validate whatever views you think neruodiverse people hold – or, worse, what views you think neurodiverse people should be holding.

Ultimately, regional theatres have a lot of power here that they need to use responsibly. Have they done enough to for me to trust them with this power? Not really. The subjects promoted by my local regional theatres are, I have to say, unimaginitive – mostly what a tough time we’re having, lists of words that we’re supposed to be offended by (and we’re not, they’ll tell us why we should be) and how Rain Man is apparently the most burning issue for us. There’s a lot of mutual back-patting between regional theatres and disability advocacy groups, but I know from bitter experience that organisations can use this to preach one thing and practice exactly the opposite. Most telling, there is absolutely zero engagement with critics. On the rare occasions a regional theatre has engaged with my concerns, it has been to tell me that they are doing me a favour. Sometime they add that they have neurodivergent staff, but the problem with that is they are only a subset of neurodivergent creatives who are probably fine working with you, but may or may not reflect what the rest of us think. Don’t get me wrong, there is no simple solution to this, but the first step is surely to ask us “How can we make you feel included?” So far, not one single person from Live Theatre or Northern Stage or Alphabetti Theatre has asked this. And worse, they don’t seem to think this is a problem.

The open design of Edinburgh Fringe, on the other hand, largely eliminates this problem. I don’t know what barriers stand in the way of neurodiverse artists, but for those who do take part, they are free to say whether they like. True, there is still curation by venues to consider, but the bar is much lower. In general, if you reasonably know what you’re doing and you have a reasonable track record in getting an audience, you shouldn’t have much trouble getting into a reasonable reputable venue. You might have some venues prioritising plays about neurodiversity to meet a quota, but it’s highly unlikely they’ll be in a position to cherry-pick views to validate their own worldview. Compare this to many regional theatres where it’s an open secret what worldview they want on stage and there’s no contest. Sure, they have some great development schemes for a small number of hand-picked artists, but we don’t know what strings are attached. At Edinburgh Fringe, for all its faults, you know where you are.

By the way, I don’t think this problem over agency and disrespect for it is unique to neurodiversity. I’m not convinced theatre is better for anyone else, and off-message minorities are just as liable to be sidelined for not womaning correctly or not minoritying correctly. And what if you don’t want to write about being part of this minority? I hear plenty of complaints from ethnic minority artists who feel they’re being sidelined for just wanting to produce the same material as everyone else. I suspect the effect varies on whether or not mainstream theatre opinion is in line with mainstream opinion of the respective minorities. Off-hand, Jews and working-class people spring to mind, with the representation of these voices suspiciously lacking in issues I know for a fact a lot of them consider important. The solutions aren’t going to be quick or easy, but it’s really up to theatres to want to change – we can’t do that for you. In the meantime, if you want to know why I don’t bother engaging with my local theatres that much and engage with the fringe circuit instead – well, there’s one of my answers.

Tuesday 23rd August, 10.30 p.m. – Second Summer of Love:

A rose-tinted story of a rave-filled youth cleverly unravels

There is always one play in the Edinburgh Fringe programme that I would have put in my recommendations had I not missed it. Pants on Fire impressed me at Vault Festival 2019 with Ovid’s Metamorphosis, with Roman legends transplanted to the music hall World War 2 era. This is a quite different production, and instead of a wildly innovate musical extravaganza, it’s a relatively conventional solo play. How does this square up?

Writer/director Emmy Happisburgh plays Louise, now a respectable wife to a respected headmaster – but in her youth in the early 1990s she was part of the “Second Summer of Love”. This was when there was the craze for the illegal rave, and rather than do the sensible thing and just create a legal version with the music but without the drug, they passed absurd laws banning music with repetitive beats (which the rave DJs took as a challenge to create non-repetitive drum beats). Honestly, if they were that bothered about it, John Major, Norman Lamont and Michael Heseltine should have embraced it and performed their own set, instantly rendering the whole rave scene so toe-curling no self-respecting teenager would have anything to do with it.

Anyway, I digress. Louise was a raver, and misses her hedonistic rave days, drug-taking included. The one vice she allows herself today is to go to “ravercise”, which is like Zumba but with rave music, glow sticks, and middle-aged housewives wondering about what to cook their kids for tea. Not at all the same as the real rave, as Louise fondly remember the trip to her first rave. Amongst the many things we learn from the 20-minute sequence covering this is that she previous went to an all-girls’ school. One suspects going to a rave is the first bit of excitement she’s had in her life – and no, her stunning singing voice doesn’t come anywhere near. In fact, the whole progression of Louise’s life is portrayed convincingly, with her life choices after her rave days leading back to boredom explained well.

The clever thing about the story, however, is how Louise’s story unravels. Her ultra-romanticised version of the story glosses over all the bad bits. To be fair to Louise, she doesn’t know how her rave sweetheart has become even more of a disappointment than she is (a policy wonk for the Conservative Party, I believe), but other things she’s chosen to ignore. The friends who suffered last damage from the drug taking. When you think about it, the most telling part is how she airbrushed out the damage it did to her own life. She tells herself the high point was taking a super-powered pills that kept her awake for 72 hours, mental or what? But one side-effect of that was the end of her aspirations to be a singer. An exciting life that could have lasted far longer than five years of raving. It is going to take others to tell her exactly what her rave days cost her.

I’m not convinced this is that well suited to a solo play. Although Happisburgh does a good job of switching between characters, there’s only so long you can do both sides of a conversation before it gets strained, never mind a four-way conversation that dominates most of the rave sequences. I’m aware that a solo play costs a lot less than a bigger play for all sorts of obvious reasons, but the economisation comes at a price, and I think this performance would be stronger with the performance done as a four-hander. There again, a four-hander is well within Pants On Fire’s capabilities. I did enjoy this as a solo play and it has a lot to say, but I’d love to see how this would turn out as a scaled up production. Pants On Fire, consider this a hint.

Update: there are indeed aspirations to upscale this play – in fact, she’s eyeing up a seven-hander. See this comment.

Tuesday 23rd August, 9.30 p.m.:

The writeup of remaining reviews

At that’s it. I’m on the train back for the last time. I make it 24 plays on press tickets, with 2 near misses involving frantic trips to press offices, but 0 failures to see plays I promised I would. Including the events I brought tickets for, I make it 33, or 34 if you count the press launch.

I managed to process most of the review requests I received before or early on in the fringe. (For those who missed out, it’s no reflection on you – the reason almost always come down to scheduling.) As has been increasingly been the case, I’ve been getting a hell of a lot of review requests in weeks 2 and 3, by which time I’ve already planned most of my viewing. This year, I’m aware that a lot of groups hoping to get a review at Edinburgh have got none. I’m embarrassed that I’ve not been able to help more people, but there’s only a finite amount of plays I can view in seven days. At some point, we need a discussion on what we do about this. I will posting my thoughts on this another day.

I will be catching up with the rest of the reviews over the rest of this week. I am aware that some of these will only arrive after the performances are finished; others are likely to arrive too late to make a difference to audience numbers. Again, I’m sorry about that, but don’t obsess over this too much. In my opinion, the effect of reviews on audience numbers is over-estimated. If your audience numbers soar after a four- or five-star review, it’s more likely it’s equally impressed audience members doing word-of-mouth publicity for you that any reviewer winning people over. Reviews, on the other hand, keep their value after the fringe finishes. This is what you have to show what you did and whether people thought it was any good, and trust me, that influence carries over into future fringes easily.

Thank you for bearing with me. I’ll get to you as soon as I can.

Update: Should add, for the plays I’ve seen before and paid to see again, I’m putting these to the bottom of the pile – you’re doing well enough without further help from me. So I probably won’t get round to adding anything in this live coverage. However, they will still be eligible for Pick of the Fringe, and when I get on to the roundup I’ll aim to give my thoughts there.

Tuesday 23rd August, 4.30 p.m. – Beg for Me:

An insight on the route to radicalisation

 

Sorry for the slow reviews. Quickly learning that internet provision in venues is terrible. Even in venues that claim to have openly accessiblw wi-fi (Pleasance excepted), the service is so terrible it’s unusable. Worse, no-one seems to consider this a problem. Look, if it really is impossible to provide reliable internet to the general public, could you at least allow accredited press access to your staff networks. It’s your acts that are losing out when we can’t do our jobs.

So this is why Beg For Me is late, but here we are. This one grabbed my interest because it’s about a man radicalised enough to take part in the infamous January 6^th insurrection. We don’t have his name, but his Twitter handle is @R3alAm3rican99. A visitor comes to his cell, which he presumes to be Police. But as far as @R3alAm3rican99 is concerned, he’s done nothing wrong. The storming of the House and Senate was a peaceful protest, and the only attempts made to kill anybody were provoked by the Police, who are all in league with the secret cabal of the liberal elite hell-bent on sending Mexican immigrants to rape your white daughters.

One frequent mistake made with depictions of the other side is to set up your enemies as straw men to take down, and normally that’s what I’d been questioning here. After all, Trump fans might claim anyone who disagrees with them are NCP cuck snowflakes scared of mean words, but Hillary fans are equally swift to paint their critics as alt-right Nazis who watch Jim Davidson on repeat. However, in the aftermath on the US election I was following the social media activity of people who insisted the election was rigged for my amusement research, and, honestly, this level of batshittery is perfectly normal. In fact, there’s even higher levels of batshit craziness (e.g. anything claims by Qanon supporters) that we don’t even go into. What this play is really about is how he got to this point in the first place. I remember the shock in I Am A Camera (the stage play that led to Cabaret) where Fraulien Schnieder is still a kidly caring landlady, but she believes all the things the nice men in suits say about the Jews. This man never used to spout the racist and misogynistic bile he now spouts, and however much he may decry the old version of him as a mindless sheeple, it’s clear he was once just an ordinary guy.

The message this play seems to be giving is that it didn’t happen overnight. He didn’t open a reddit thread and suddenly sign up as a full-blown Trump-worshipping Nazi. In fact, he was already disappearing down that rabbit hole long before he read any of this. Prior to that, he was subjecting his girlfriend to degrading sexual acts, and blaming her for being the digusting whore who’d degrade herself exactly the way he meant to. However, there is a missing link in the back story here. He went into that relationship as a shy man asking for permission to kiss her – but there doesn’t seem to be any explanation for how he got from that point to a shitty controlling partner. And okay, there’s only so much you can explain in an hour, but I did feel too much of the play was taken up by the visitor admonishing the accused for the way he treats women. Look, this is the Edinburgh Fringe, not Parler. I’ve 100% confident no-one saw this play and thought “You know, @R3alAm3rican99” has a point. I’m pretty sure we can take it for granted that everyone thought “What a fucking nutjob.”

To be fair, there is a good reason why the mysterious visitor is so insistent on giving our man a dressing down, which ties into the journey from normal guy to alt-right fanatic. I won’t spoil the play by saying what the reason is, but it’s a good one. Rhys Anderson’s portrayal as the radicalised fanatic is excellent. The one thing I would seek to add to this is more about the beginning of the journey. What I think this play underestimates is what a lot of people underestimate – how perfectly understandable and legitimate grievances are ruthlessly exploited by extremists and twisted with half-truths and distortion. Rosa Maria Alexander is 80% of the way there – I hope we can completely this with the final and most uncomfortable 20%.

Tuesday 23rd August,12.30 a.m. – The Land of Lost Content:

An outstanding and very moving play. Bring hankies

Okay, that’s another congested day’s viewing done. Normally I would leave the reviews until tomorrow. But this one can’t wait. It’s happened for the second time this fringe. But the last time this happened it came from a front runner who I already expected to do well. It’s a different thing when it comes out of nowhere.

Henry and Judd are sitting at the bar table in the pub, the Flat Earth in, of the rural village they grew up in. They have been best friends since childhood, but there used to be more of them. This is not some idyllic sleepy town from a Hovis advert, however, but a deprived town with a lot of people struggling and – more relevantly – a lot of boredom. Their teenage years were spent mostly drinking and getting stoned because there wasn’t anything else to do. And, in a way, they are the lucky ones. Other teenagers the same age as them go through worse things.

The Land of Lost Content is written by Henry Madd, playing Henry, and his heavily based on his own memories of his teenage years in this town. A lot of memories involve the 292 bus which somehow seems to serve everywhere you could possible want to go; other memories are more dangerous actt of recklessness. To some extent, this is a similar format to Sandcastles, set as a memory play, with the story told in a non-linear format going back and forth in time from the Year 7 disco where Judd joined the class as the insecure new kid taken under Henry’s wing, to years as the class clown sneaking in booze to school proms, to definitive moments in their twenties that made Henry and Judd what they are today. They also make heavy use to soundscapes, used to wonderful effect here.

But there is one crucial thing that Henry Madd does much better here. Rather than just memories of teenage parties and holidays after exams, Henry and Judd and their other friends have all been through so much together. And it’s when you stick to each other through thick and thin that you can truly understand how much their friendship means to them. Even when there’s bullying from bigger boys, you can quickly see they’re in the same situation of boredom and low life prospects, merely being slightly ahead in the pecking order. Not all of the time though. There are some bad people in the town, and Henry’s closest two female friends come off particularly from the dregs in society. The saddest part of the story is that Henry can see the lives of his friends falling apart around him – but whilst his friends are there for him to pull him back from the darkest moments, try as he might, he doesn’t know how to do the same when they need him.

Writing so closely about your own life experiences is always a risky game; a play can only ever be a simplification of real life, and all sorts of things can go wrong when distilling it into an hour. You might steer clear of uncomfortable details that stop the on-stage story making sense, and even events that happened in real life can come across as not ringing true. Not here – I never doubted at any point the believability of these characters and the vulnerability that stopped them doing more when things mattered the most. You must see this – but bring the hankies.

Monday 22nd August, 7.00 p.m.:

Why the lack of availability of fringe programmes is a good thing

Excuse the sporadic coverage, got yet another press ticket in a moment, so don’t have time for a quite exciting review. But in the shorter gap I have, here’s an odd observation a few of us have: Edinburgh Fringe programmes seem to be harder to obtain this year. I ordered my programme in advance and plan almost everything prior to a visit so it doesn’t affect me much, but anecdotally other people have had trouble picking up a programme, which used to be ten-a-penny at all major venues. For what it’s worth, I don’t remember seeing Fringe brochures at any venues myself – however, there are plenty at the Fringe Box Office (also Fringe Central, if anyone can make the detour).

However, I’m not entirely sure this is a bad thing. I’m not in such a panic over paper wastage as Brighton is (who have already decided they’re not going back to a full programme for all next year), and I think one programme per punter is bearable. However, programmes that are both free and easy to obtain are, I think, easily wasted. People may continually abandon brochures and pick up new ones. People who re only sort-of interested might pick up a brochure and throw it away without buying a single ticket. I’m not against making a programme slightly harder to obtain if it means we have to print less.

One thing I would seriously consider for future years is making category-specific brochures the main type of brochure distributed by the fringe. It is silly that someone who only looks at the theatre section gets a brochure with all the comedy listings in, and vice versa. If we need a full brochure, I would consider charging a token amount. Not necessarily the full printing cost, but enough to make people think twice about taking one if they’re not serious about going to anything, and maybe take a bit more care before losing it.

Happy to hear other people’s verdicts, but if the lack of availability of brochures is an economisation by the back door, I’m fine with it. In fact, be open that you’re doing it. Like the half-price virtual ticket hut, this is an economisation I like.

Monday 22nd August, 11.30 a.m.:

A call to streamline the press ticketing system

Rush hour is about to start, with me watching four plays in seven hours. This is proving a challenge. I have long since accustomed myself to getting from venue to venue and pacing myself, but the thing that’s proved an absolute bugger this year is all the administration around press tickets. It’s a bugger to deal with half a dozen different press offices at the same time, and whilst I have so far never missed a play due to a bit of missed paperwork, I’ve had some near misses. What’s more, I’m starting to think this is more complicated than it needs to be.

First of all, an overview of how the press system works. Until 2019, I was working entirely on informal arrangements dealing with individual shows asking me to review them. It was fine when it was just a few, but it got harder as the requests piled up. Last year, I got upgraded to full reviewer status by Edinburgh Fringe – I don’t know whether that was merging two tiers into one, Edfringe needing all the reviewers they could get in 2021, or just the year I earned a promotion, but this meant I had access to the full press ticket system. This is much easier – select the show your want, website will tell you whether or not there are press tickets*, and if so, bing! It’s yours.

 

 

*: Actually, the website is still confusing if you’re not used to it, but it’s still easier than darting around a dozen press offices.

 

 

However, most venues don’t use this system. The only venues I’ve managed to get press tickets from are Space and Greenside. There is a caveat that although press tickets are given to accredited media, no questions asked, you are expected to actually review the plays. If you are caught breaking this rule, they can revoke your accreditation and any tickets you haven’t yet used. So far, I’ve not known any complaints of abuse of the system. That, however, is not enough reassurance for the Big Four and other venues who won’t issue press tickets without the company’s consent. For the record, this is how I operate anyway – I never take a press ticket if I wasn’t expressly invited – but it’s understandable that some venues are more cautious. A free ticket with a face value of £15 must be tempting for the freeloaders out there, especially the big name comedians.**

 

 

**: (For the record 2: I could have claimed a free ticket via a publicist to a big-name comedian I wanted to see, but as I don’t know how to review stand-up comedy and I knew I’d be taken what would otherwise be a paid seat, I couldn’t justify it to myself.)

 

 

The thing is, the red61 system that Edinburgh Fringe uses can do exactly this. Brighton (where I’m also accredited) has a very similar setup, with one exception: the tickets have to be manually approved. Surely Edinburgh Fringe’s system can be configured to support both routes – no questions asked for venues who trust the current system, approval needed for venues such as the Big Four that want to be more vigilant. The different is that reviewers only have to deal with one outlet. It also makes it a lot easier to keep track of what you’ve booked.

I need to be careful about “Won’t someone think of the reviewers?” As I’ve said, the Festival Fringe Society exists for the benefit of the performers, not us. However, when the odd review falls through because of errant paperwork, it’s no big dead to the reviewer – but it’s the act who loses out. That could have been the only review this play was going to get. Usual note of caution applies: apply technological solutions with caution, make sure it’s properly tested. But get it right and it will benefit everybody.

Monday 22nd August, 10.00 a.m. – Colossal:

A play with a message that desperately needs subtext

With comedy the dominant category at Edinburgh Fringe but theatre coming a strong second, Edinburgh is a good place for established comedians to branch out into theatre. This is what Patrick McPherson is doing, with Colossal being his second performance in the theatre category. At face value, this is a story about dating. Dan is excited to be going on a new date, and in the hour he has to get ready, he talks about his last long-term relationship. At first, the excitement of a new relationship, first accidental meeting, nail-biting wait for reply to first text, first kiss, first meeting with parents. And then it goes to the arguments and the infidelity that led to it falling apart. However (apology, spoiler alert, but impossible to review without this), this is not all that it seems. Dan’s version of the story is his own version. Reality, he later admits, wasn’t quite the same.

This is the fourth play at this fringe I’ve seen on a subject ranging from sexual predators to unhealthy relationships. What this one is desperately missing, however, is subtext. Not all plays about unhealthy relationships need so much subtext, but when the central premise is an unreliable narrator, it’s vital. How do we know Dan started off head-over-heels in love and over-optimistically judged the situation? Because Dan tells us at the end of the play. How do we know Dan was glossing over his faults in the failing relationship? The same. Worst, of all, the play is supposed to give a message at the end about looking at your learned behaviour – but there are no examples anywhere in the story of what the learned behaviour is or how Dan came to learn it. Just a direct quote from his ex telling him to address his learned behaviour, whatever it was. “Show, don’t tell” has never been more important here.

To be fair, subtext is difficult to write, especially if you’ve come from comedy where subtext has little importance (certain kinds of character comedy excepted). It is not clear whether subtext wasn’t written into the script or whether it was so subtle it wasn’t picked up, but either way, the only thing I picked up that sort-of indicated something wasn’t right has a flickering light. I suppose the argument where the two accuse each other of gaslighting might have been meant as a sign of an unhealthy relationship, but with no context to the arguments it was impossible to tell whether they were simply words in anger or something more – and if the latter, no indication of who was gaslighting who. Personally, the best opportunity I see for subtext is a passing reference at the beginning of Dan giving a favourable spin on his previous relationship. That could easily set alarm bells ringing when the same things happen again – but once more, the only reason we know Dan glossed over his last relationship is because he told us directly.

I am probably in the minority here – it’s got a string of good reviews from its run and the show I was in was close to sold out. The main reason this is getting praise for its production values, and those were excellent. McPherson is perfectly choreographed to an intricate lighting and sound scape, and had the plot been stronger I might have been shouting praises from the roof tops. There’s one other possible reason for its popularity though: popularity with people who already agree that with the message about learned behaviour, and don’t care if nothing is done to expand on it, only that their view is stated back to them. I hope I am wrong about that, because in the long run, playing to the gallery is a mistake. So much discourse is dominated by soundbites without substance, and plays give the opportunity to expand on this and show how things such as learned behaviour can work out. It’s a shame that a play with so much going for it missed this opportunity.

Sunday 21st August, 11.00 p.m.:

How are ticket sales doing?

Now here’s a big question we’ve not yet discussed much: how are ticket sales comparing to 2019.

First the baseline. The number of registrations at Edinburgh Fringe is just over 80% of the 2019 peak. I have previously observed that there’s a lot of shows not running the full fringe this time. Having checked this further (and thanks to Richard Stamp for doing the number crunching), this effect looks less dramatic than it looks. The short runs seem to be mostly affecting theatre – certainly most of my comedy picks are still running the full length. (This should not be too surprising when you remember most comedy shows are one person, which lessens the impact of expensive accommodation.) There does seem to be a reduction in full-length theatre runs, but not a big one – I perhaps underestimated how many were doing short runs back in 2019. On the whole, I’m not expecting this to have much effect on number of performances, which I’m currently expecting to be around 75-80% of 2019. The big question, of course: will sales also be around 75%-80%?

There was an early panic around the start of the fringe when it was reported pre-sales were down a lot. It now looks like alarm over an imminent meltdown was overstated. Instead, this seems to be fitting into the pattern seen at Brighton that people are buying tickets later. Does that really make up the shortfall in pre-sales though? What really matters is the total number of sales, by they in advance or on the door. Here we don’t seem to have any data (or at least nothing I know about which anyone’s pick up on) and instead have to rely on anecdote.

For what it’s worth, my own observations are that attendance in the shows I visited looks about the same as a normal year. Treat my estimates with extreme caution, as this varies enormously between individual shows, and it’s hard to recall what an average attendance looks like. (Also bear in mind that an an audience member, you’re more likely to be in a well-attended show than a poorly-attended one, although I’m currently guessing the effect is the same in 2019 and 2022 and cancels out.) Other reviewers I’ve spoken to are having similar observations, give or take a little in the details. From performers I’ve heard from who’ve been in the game long enough, they seem to think it’s been quieter, but not enough to be a cause for alarm.

So it looks like we’re going to have to wait another week and a bit to get an answer to this one. The only prediction I’m going to make is that when the figures do come, there won’t be anything jaw-dropping. In the meantime, here is a picture of the Sold Out board at the Pleasance Courtyard a few hours ago. If you know what a typical Sold Out board on the Sunday of Weekend 3 looks like in a typical year, let me know.

Sunday 21st August, 8.00 p.m. – The Bush:

A nice story about protest from an unlikely group of dissidents

I’ve been off-grid again a while, because I’ve just seen two consecutive plays at Summerhall. On the plus side, I have heard some exciting news, as Summerhall has added itself to the list of venues that could be as close as five years away from having wi-fi that actually fucking works. In a separate development, Summerhall are extremely pleased with their collaboration with mobile phone networks to make sure there’s absolutely no backup mobile internet available. But now that I’m back somewhere I can connect, let’s start coverage of visit 3 with something that wasn’t here with my last two visits.

How do you make a story about a protest movement into a play? In the case of The Bush, it’s about a local protest to save a piece of rural land with local sentimental attachment in 1970s. The trouble with these sorts of stories is that real life doesn’t lend itself that well to scripted drama. I am a great believer in writing events that keep the viewers’ attention: one event leads to another and another, this things happens every now and then to change the course of the story. Real campaigns, however, tend to consist of a set of little events largely unrelated to each other adding up to an outcome one way or the other. The other problem particular to this one is that the decisive moment that saved Kelly’s Bush was a coincidence never alluded to before (because nobody knew). In fiction that would be decried as a contrived way of ending the story. But this is what really happened. What do you do?

The way Alice Mary Cooper makes this work is making the story just about the people in the protest movement as the campaign. Of course, stories about liberated/hedonistic campaign movements behind worthy causes are done to death, but this works by being exactly the opposite of what you’d expect: a prim and proper collection of suburban housewives, as middle-class as you can be. Being the 1970s, the men have jobs and the women stay at home, but the men barely feature in the story, always referred to in the party where the movement is founded as somebody’s husband. Regardless of campaigning activity underway, it always seems to be running parallel with a drive to provide the most sublime cooking, with assorted kitchen disasters turned around with initiative and years of culinary experience. Somehow they find time to save Kelly’s Bush whilst juggling school commitments. When they form an alliance with a construction union, and one of them mildly flirts with a housewife who’s never been flirted with for ten years, she turns beetroot. What might have been a dry play that was difficult to follow is made into a story with warm humour.

Alice Mary Cooper’s preferred format is third-person storytelling. Whilst I personally would have preferred her previous work, Waves, to have been done in first person, it makes more sense here when the story is about a protest movement rather than a political character. The obvious question whenever a play is done in this format: why do it on stage at all? Why not just do it as a podcast? The answer is that Alice Mary Cooper is very good at making her storytelling visual, sometimes using naturalistic props, and sometimes repurposing them into new uses, pulling every trick in the book to keep the play visually engaging. The only downside I can see with the solo format is that I completely lost track on which housewife was this. It doesn’t matter too much as the focus of the play is on the cause rather than the individuals, but maybe there were some characters arcs I was supposed to pick up that I lost.

This play has been touring for six weeks in outdoor spaces similar to Kelly’s Bush, which I reckon would have suited it well. And I optimistic expectations for this one and Alice Mary Cooper delivered about an unlikely bunch of dissidents. Remaining runs is at Summerhall, Tuesday to Sunday, 3.00 p.m.

Sunday 21st August, 11.45 p.m. – The Glummer Twins:

Another recommendation from Buxton

Here we go. The last Edinburgh Fringe visit, and my last of all 2022 fringe visits. The last metaphorical mile of a metaphorical marathon than began in May. And just like a real marathon, the last mile is going to be the most gruelling. I intend to relax the pace in my final visit, and I will be concentrating more on plays I want to see than reviewing duty. And where there is a gap in my schedule, I will not go out of my way to fill it.

Before I get stuck in to visit 3 (or visit 7 if we’re counting all four fringes this year), it’s time for one more review from Buxton Fringe for a show about to start in Edinburgh. The Glummer Twins might be in the spoken word section of the programme, but they actually straddle four categories quite smoothly: as well as their beat poetry what puts them in the spoken word section, they crossover with music for the tunes than accompany some of the performances, comedy for the warm humour than comes throughout their poems, and theatre for the characters they adopt for their double act.

The Glummer Twins bill themselves as “the beat poets for the Saga generation”. It is often assumed that the fringe is a young person’s game, so it is refreshing to see a pair of older performers become such fringe favourites at Buxton. Crucially, however, they don’t appeal to one age range at the expense of another. This set of poems is set through the decades of their lives, starting with nostalgia of decades gone by and the later part featuring their signature hit “He’s just turned sixty, he’s taking it badly,” but at every point the performance remains accessible to everyone. The nostalgia is broad topics than younger whippersnappers have heard of; the dodgy nightclub they reminiscence about may be specific in Rotherham in the 1970s, but there are plenty of clubs in other towns and other decades this could relate to.

Ray and David, too, are perfect as a double-act, they banter they share with each other might be scripted between them, but it’s perfect for their stage personas and shares a similar style to Morecambe and Wise. They do give the game away – mentioning different birthdays during the aforementioned poem about turning sixty – that they’re not actually twins. But whilst they’re not literal twins they are certainly showbusiness twins. I’m a theatre reviewer so trust the verdict of comedy and poetry reviewer ahead of mine, but I loved it. I can confirm they are Buxton favourites for a reason. Runs 2 p.m. tomorrow until Sunday at The Space, Surgeon’s Hall.

Saturday 20th August, 8.30 p.m.:

What’s starting in week 3

We’re approaching week 3, which means time for another changeover. However, on this occasion I must apologise for lack of planning. I was supposed to give you advance notice of acts about to finish, but I forgot that most week 2 finishers finish today, not tomorrow. So if you were hoping to catch No One, Head Girl or 1972: The Future of Sex, I’m afraid you’re already too late, the last day was today.

What I can to is tell you about what’s coming up. There’s less of a changeover compared to week 2, but there’s a couple of new things starting to draw to your attention:

Call Mr. Robeson: The fascinating and frequently counter-intuitive story of Paul Robeson, one of the few black singers in mid-20th century America who could take on segregation and win – instead, the fight of his life came with the communist scare. Starts tomorrow (Sunday), 10.10 a.m., the Space at Surgeon’s Hall.

The Glummer Twins: They’ve down in the spoken word section as beat poets, but they straddle comedy, music and theatre. This double act is a favourite at Buxton Fringe, with a warm humour with echoes of Morecambe and Wise. Starts Monday, 2.00 p.m., the Space at Surgeon’s Hall.

That’s all from today. See you in person tomorrow.

Saturday 20th August, 6.00 p.m.:

How many groups have been lost permanently?

Now let’s turn attention to something that may feel missing from this year’s Edinburgh Fringe. It used to be a fixture on the mornings for many people to see Bite Size Plays. I saw the first production in 2006 and saw this go from strength to strength, but not this year. We do, however, have the founder, Nick Brice, giving a speech on the Bite Size Story (his day job is business so he’s well suited to this). The Edinburgh Fringe edition of this takes place today. Now, Bite Size fans, don’t panic. It doesn’t mean Bite Size is gone for good from Edinburgh – in fact, I believe one of the purposes of these talks is to raise money for an intended return next year. It does, however, remind us of a legacy of Coronavirus we haven’t considered that much. There’s been a lot of panic over respected venues closing; that seems to have been largely averted. However, how many respected groups have left the arts and aren’t coming back?

I have no data to track what’s happening; nevertheless, I can see reasons why this could be a problem. Although some of the more determined groups sought out every opportunity to perform in 2020 and 2021, most groups have been on a eighteen-month break. Can you simply pick up where you left off? Not necessarily. For a start, there’s all the financial considerations – I had a day job to keep me going so I don’t have much first-hand experience of this; other people on the sharp end can tell me better what the impact is. However, I suspect there’s also a psychological element to this – fringe theatre is almost always a highly stressful experience where the adrenalin keeps you going, but I wonder how many people with an enforced 18 months of doing little decided they couldn’t face the stress again. Similarly, if you were forced to get a job with a more reliable income, how many people want to go back to an unreliable one?

But I also suspect the effect is magnified with ensembles who form so many successful returning acts at Edinburgh. Bite Size plays may have started off as one man’s project and passion, but by the second half of the 2010s it was a team effort with the same actors coming back year after year. Maybe some of the Bite Size crew are gone for good, maybe they’re all raring to go next year, but if the worst comes to the worst, Nick Brice built one team, he can build another. Other groups are in a weaker position though. I don’t want to pick pick out examples of other acts because I don’t know their individual circumstances, but off-hand I can think of a couple of acts not here this year who were tight-knit teams. Lose one member of the team and it’s the end of the act as we know it. Could this be the worst cultural legacy of Covid?

I will float a counter-argument though. It’s been three years since the last Edinburgh Fringe of any proper size. Even without a pandemic, three years is a long time. Perhaps the losses we’ve seen amongst fringe perennial acts since 2019 are no worse than natural wastage over three normal years. Someone with a lot more resources will need to research this if we are to ever get a clear answer – but it’s possible the lasting cultural damage isn’t the closure of venues, but loss of hundreds of talented individuals and groups who just aren’t in the arts any more.

Saturday 20th August, 12.00 p.m.:

Jekyll & Hyde gets extended

Late to the party, but one small bit of news is that Jekyll and Hyde, A One-Woman Show, has had its run extended. Was supposed to finish last week, now finishing this week. So there’s performances at 8.15 p.m. tonight and tomorrow, Zoo Playground (same as last time). This might be connected to a nomination for an Infallible Award for this play. I’ve not really kept up with which award is which, but apparently this one is good.

I’ll be back later with an update on what’s finishing this weekend and what’s starting next week.

Friday 19th August:

Why no reviews from Paines Plough or Roundabout?

Today I am making preparations for my third and final trip to Edinburgh Fringe. To manage expectations, I’m not going to be jam-packing this one with reviews as much as before – I like to make the end of the fringe more fun and less of an endurance test. There are more things in my schedule that I’ve seen before and want to see again, and where I have gaps in my schedule, I won’t be going out of my way to fill them.

However, this is a good time an answer a question I’ve been asked by an eagle-eyed follower who’s noticed I’ve never covered anything from Paines Plough Roundabout or the Traverse, the two venues with the strongest reputations for new writing. The short answer is that there is nothing personal against this two venues, it’s just the way things have worked out. However, in the interests of transparency, it’s fair to expand on this and give some insight into how I choose to review.

The first point to make may seem quite counter-intuitive, but strangely enough, the reputation of the venues actually counts for very little in Edinburgh. I’ve long maintained that what I cover on this blog should be considered a cross-section of what’s on offer at Edinburgh Fringe rather than seeking out the best of the fringe. From a more idealistic standpoint, I am I big supporter of an open festival where anyone can take part, and in the spirit of this I have a system where anyone can get a good review from me. If you have a vote a confidence from Paines Plough or the Traverse, congratulations – but you are going into the fringe with a head start on everyone else. Over here, I want the minnows and the newbies to have a fair chance against the most favoured acts of the cultural great and good. This is why I might be reviewing an unknown act at The Space one moment, and a well-known act at The Big Four the next. A lot of review publications have this ethos on the fringe circuit, by the way; in contrast, on the regional theatre scene it is next to impossible to be reviewed if you aren’t in the programme of a notable producing theatre.

The main factor, however, is what I get invited to review. About 80% of what I’ve booked to see this year has been on press tickets, which almost entirely come from individual acts contacting me themselves. I don’t keep track of which venue they’re performing in, but so far, I don’t think I’ve ever had a request from an act performing at either Traverse or Roundabout. Which is fine – I like to focus by reviewing efforts where it is most wanted and appreciated, and acts at those venues already have a lot of acclaim on their side. To a lesser extent, the same could be said of acts at The Big Four, but I still get enough requests from there to keep me busy. The only real influence that venues have on my decision on who to review is balance. I try to have an even spread of venues over my coverage, and I especially try to balance up Big Four venues (who primarily take on better-known acts with higher budgets) with cheaper venues such as Space, Greenside and Zoo (who are better homes for less well known acts). A review request from Traverse or Roundabout would probably be snapped up as that would be an opportunity to get a different kind of venue into the mix.

There’s also a few other odds and sods that might indirectly disadvantage the new writing venues. Whilst I’m not that bothered about the reputation of venues, the reputation of individual acts does make a difference – especially acts whom I previously saw for myself. And in my case, the most likely place I saw an Edinburgh Fringe acts prior to Edinburgh is Brighton Fringe. For some reason, there doesn’t seem to be much crossover between Traverse/Roundabout and the rest of the fringe circuit; in contrast, there’s a lot of names at the Big Four and Summerhall that I recognise from other fringes. I often use the half-price hut and nearby/now as my means of taking a punt on something random, but I don’t remember seeing either of these venues use the half-price hut, and they’re a bit out of the way to come on as a nearby/now pick.

I almost booked for the Traverse on Sunday, as there was something listed by a publicist that was on at a good time which grabbed by interest, but that one sold out. Ah well, close but no cigar. I hope the overall message from this is that no venue’s being snubbed, and the door is always open to review requests, same as everyone else. I’m almost booked up now, but maybe next year.

Thursday 18th August – Svengali:

Ambiguous in a good way

Good news, folks. You enjoyed reading my last two depressing reviews on sexual predators so much, I’ve got another one for you. This one is a little different from the other two though. All three of these plays have been good – but this time I’m not sure I’m picking up the message I was supposed to pick.

The start of this play wrong-footed me for a while. The play is openly advertised as a reimagining of a classic character for the #MeToo era, but without knowing anything about the source material I just saw Chloe-Ann Tylor on stage in a suit – something, I assumed, to fit into a victim preparing to give a testimony to court. To her, tennis is everything. She considers the soft-porn quality of tennis appealing. For a moment, I wonder if this is another victim-blaming narrative being set up, and it’s only a few minutes the penny drops: Tylor isn’t playing the victim, Tylor is playing the perpetrator. But unlike Sugar, where the villain of the piece is a ruthless manipulator exploiting a vulnerable teenager for sex, this is not so simple. This perpetrator – who idolising the Svengali for the source book – is a lot more interested in control. Sex, it seems, is simply the icing on the cake. And, unfortunately, our Svengali-superfan is doing pretty well in the job as a coach. With chosen young player Trilby storming the major tournaments, nothing is questioned. Controlling behaviour that would set alarm bells ringing anywhere else is accepted as a normal part of the relationship between mentor and protege.

One thing the stood out for me is that unlike Ghislaine/Gabler and Sugar, nothing this coach does is anywhere near breaking any law I know of – but it is still the most morally repugnant thing imaginable. I wasn’t entirely wrong when I thought a victim-blaming narrative was being built up. Trilby might be destined for phenomenal stardom on the tennis courts, but if that’s got anything to do with being the chosen protege, the reason’s a distant third at best. It’s pretty obvious Svengali is more interested in how pretty she is … but more still, how vulnerable she is. She was previously in an unhealthy relationship a more assertive woman might have bailed on sooner – and one suspects the thinking here is that if she can stumble into one unhealthy relationship, she can stumble into another. (I do think one problem that is being underestimated is opportunist predators choosing their targets based on who has the lowest self-esteem – if that was the intention to flag this here, it did the job.)

Now for the bit where I think I may have interpreted it different to writer Eve Nicol’s intentions. After establishing Tylor is playing the perpetrator, for the next 20 minutes or so I assumed she was playing a woman married to another woman with an eye on other women. In fact, I think there were only a few words said by her character that unambiguously make him a man. Some reviewers call this a portrayal of male power, but I see this as taking gender out of it. Why does it matter? The controlling and coercive behaviour was equally plausible whether it was from a domineering man or a domineering woman. It is also equally appalling either way. If anything, what this play does is show just how much it comes down to who has the power, and what you have to do to get that power in the first place. Incidentally, whether or not the ambiguity was intentional, I liked it. Some reviewers have criticised the end of the play for indeterminably switching to Trilby narrating, and yes, it took me a couple of minutes to think “Wait, are we hearing Trilby’s story now … yes we are.” And I liked that experience, although I appreciate it might not work so well if this is your 12th play and your brain is running on empty.

When I looked up the original, a final thing occurred to me. In the original book, Trilby isn’t a tennis superstar, she’s a singer superstar – but the one discipline other than sports that is notorious for controlling relationships is the arts. Mentors can have a huge amount of power over proteges, and controlling behaviour that would set every red flag flying elsewhere are all to often accepted in the arts as artistic temperament. In this sports-based retelling, Svengali’s power over Trilby wanes as she become more and more popular with the crowds and he can no longer isolate her – and in the arts, Harvey Weinstein suffered a similar fate when his power waned. Did I pick up the message this play was supposed to? I don’t know. But it looks like this play gives you a lot to think about however you perceive it.

Wednesday 17th August:

Some more thoughts about Sadowitz

Right, time for an update on the Sadowitz affair, which is not going away any time soon. The more I read about this, the more I’m convinced that The Pleasance has handles this badly, and are still digging themselves into a deeper hole over this. It’s even leading to a rare bit of infighting with the Big Four. And whilst it’s a long way from being called censorship, it does raise some important questions about artistic freedom that the leadership of The Pleasance need to address.

Firstly, Jerry Sadowitz himself. In the interests of balance, I should report that he has written his own response. Read it for yourself if you want to make up your mind, but the defence of the objectionable content is “there’s a lot of silly exaggerated irony and nonsense, real fake and exaggerated bile”. I have to say, I’ve never really subscribed to the often-used defence of “he didn’t really mean it”. I personally don’t understand why we’re not focusing on shoving his nob at one particularly person, which is potentially a sex offence that no amount of humourous context excuses, but since no-one else is talking about that I’m debating this on everyone else’s terms. The reason I’m focusing on The Pleasance is that their actions have more consequences here. Unless you wish to argue that people who watch his skits proceed to go around committing hate crimes (which even the most ardent Sadowitz-haters are stopping short of claiming so far), his offensive routine has no bearing beyond the room it was in. The Pleasance’s response might.

The issue isn’t so much The Pleasance not consider this sort of humour welcome. As I had before, Jerry Sadowitz is a liability and I don’t blame any venue for wishing to have nothing to do with him. If you’re concerned about venues engaging in moral vetting, this is nothing compared to other venues – it’s very much an open secret, for example, that the programming in the main producing theatre back him is very much in line with the moral codes of the leaderships. What’s different is that The Pleasance cancelled a show they’d already booked. What’s more, they refused to say exactly which material was the problem. I get nervous when this happens – even if I’ve got a pretty good guess what it was. This sets the precedent that the venue is the sole arbiter of what is and isn’t permissible on stage and has the right to punish you retrospectively. What’s more, if they don’t even have to explain what is was you did wrong, you have no hope of defending yourself. How can stop yourself crossing the line if it’s a secret where the line is? Can we really be sure it’s going to end here? The hashtag hordes don’t always stop at grossly offensive material – sometimes they demand punishment for minor moral transgressions, or views they don’t agree with, or even opinions expressed by the artist several years ago that weren’t even in the performance. Does The Pleasance cancel acts in mid-run because it’s the right thing, or the easy thing? Do they bow to petty moral outrage and ignore worse material depending on who buys more tickets? Or has the bigger social media following?

Most importantly, The Pleasance needs a better explanation of why they booked Jerry Sadowtz in the first place if they consider him so objectionable. This didn’t totally come out of the blue, he’s been notorious for this sort of thing. The Pleasance’s explanation (as reported by The Stage) is: “We don’t vet the full content of acts in advance and while Jerry Sadowitz is a controversial comedian, we could not have known the specifics of his performance. The Pleasance has staged his work numerous times over the years, but as soon as we received complaints from those in the building which caused us great concern, we knew we could not allow the final performance to go ahead.” That is implying that they knew he would be shocking, but not as much as he was. However, having refused to give the specifics, I’m not sure I’m prepared to give the benefit of the doubt. If you knew what to expect, you should either admit the mistake’s on you and apologise, or stick to your guns in the face of complaints. If you didn’t know what to expect, you’re going to need a better explanation before I believe you.

The most charitable explanation I can think of is that the staff were about to mutiny and they forced The Pleasance’s hand. If the staff did that, it would be understandable. (There’s also complaints of abuse being directed by staff, but it’s unclear whether that was from Sadowtiz himself or from fans after the event was cancelled – even so, Sadowitz has made no attempt to tell fans not to behave like that.) That, I accept, would put The Pleasance in a difficult position. I don’t envy anyone in the position of damned if you do, damned if you don’t – but they should have seen this coming. They could have made it clear that marshalling controversial acts is part of you job from the outset. Or they could have brought in outside workers for these performances. Or they could have not programmed him in the first place.

So, I’m sorry Pleasance, but you are going to have to give a better explanation for what you’ve already given us. What exactly were you expecting when you programmed him? What did he do that went outside your expectations? If you were wrong to programme him in the first place, just say so – if not, what changed? It is in your interests to answer this to everyone’s satisfaction, because a lot of big-name comedians aren’t going to want to work with a venue who comes across as behaving like judge, jury and executioner. You’re better than this Pleasance. Please give us the answers we deserve.

Tuesday 16th August – Sugar:

Not so sugary

There are two things notable about Sugar. Whilst the fringe circuit has mostly moved on from the online programme pioneered over the last two years, some of the biggest successes have been remembered and brought back in person – it seems The Space’s efforts to be part of the temporary online programme have paid off in this regard. The other thing is that this is a prime example of why I think the current system of content warnings doesn’t work. Sugar contains subject material that I’m pretty sure some people really don’t want to relive, but it would not be possible to spell it out without giving away how this play goes. I am going to spell it out here because it’s not possible to review this without giving the theme, and on that note, please consider this your spoiler warning. If you have already decided you want to see this (and you’re comfortable with having anything thrown at you), stop reading now. (And for the way I think we should handle content warnings without acting as spoilers, come this way, for a solution with the unlikely inspiration of the joke website Does the Dog Die?)

The tagline of Sugar is “One Girl. Five Ages. Many Morally Ambiguous Life Choices.” Between the ages of 6 and 18, Mae (written and performed by Mabel Thomas) tells the stories of her madcap adventures in a sort-of hybrid of Just William and Derry Girls. Whether it’s her scheming at six years old to get the coveted raffle prize of a day with the headmaster in a fast food place, her foray into entrepreneurship at ten or her underhand tactic to boost her grade point average at 16, the story is kept light-hearted with warmth and humour. Until we reach 18½. The cheapest higher education she can find is impossible to afford. And her latest get-rich-quick scheme is to get a sugar daddy. I already have a bad feeling about this.

In a different play, I might question what the point was of the first five of these six chapters. Story-wise, they have little to do with what happens at the end. But that’s not really the point here. We are not building up a story, we are building up a character. Why is Mae embarking on something which is so obviously dangerous and she’s so obviously out of her depth? Because for the last twelve years of her life, she has built up a lot of misplaced confidence. It’s true that she’s got her way most of the time, but it’s a lot more down to luck than her ability to talk her way out of any trouble. But it’s not so much an overestimation of her own abilities, but an underestimation of what a big bad world it is out there. Until now, she’s lived in a relatively innocent and sheltered world where the stakes are low. In the world of sugar daddies and sugar babies she’s stepping into, there are people more ruthless, more amoral and more exploitative than anything Mae can imagine. Whatever petty lying and cheating she’s done up to now, she doesn’t deserve this.

There is one piece of subtext about this play I liked, and I’m not sure how much is deliberate and how much is accidental. There is the obvious question of how there is any justice in some awful people have incomprehensibly vast amounts of wealth. But the more subtle question is the attitude to people without the money. The only reason Mae is doing this is to get enough money to pay for a community college. As the girl from the poorest family at school, the safe and morally accepted route means no money, no higher education, and perhaps a lifetime of soul-crushing minimum wage jobs. Over here, there would be at least some protests over this situation, but in the leafier parts of Wisconsin, it’s just accepted as completely normal. Neither Mae nor anyone else questions this – it’s just the way it is, that’s that.

So yes, I must advise you that, contrary to what the title might imply, this play is a lot less sugary than the title and first two thirds may lead you to believe. This play has a lot to say, and it’s not just trap many plays fall into that Good Things and Good and Bad Things or Bad, but other less comfortable subjects about the dangers of naivety from a sheltered youth, and how some of the worst people out there can get away with some of the worst things. Recommended, but brace yourself for the final uncomfortable chapter.

Monday 15th August:

What’s starting in week 2

We’re now into week 2. Today and tomorrow a lot of full-run shows will be taking a day off. Don’t worry, fringe bingers – that’s more than enough on offer to make up a full day. You just might need to plan a bit more carefully if there’s someone specific you want to see.

As well as that, we have some new things starting this week. Unless otherwise noted, they run until the end of the fringe/ We have:

• No-One from Akimbo Theatre. A physical theatre-heavy piece loosely inspired on The Invisible Man, but what it captures from the original it does well. This actually started yesterday, and has a short run until Saturday. 5.45 p.m, Zoo Playground.
• The Bush, Alice Mary Cooper’s new play which I’m looking forward to, about the original fight for a green belt in Australia. Starts tomorrow, 3.00 p.m., Summerhall.
• The Grandmothers Grimm, a play about the origins of stories before they ended up in the Grimms stories. To be fair, the originals were even more fucked up than the Grimms versions, but was the change entirely a good thing? Starts tomorrow, Greenside Riddle’s Court, 4.25 p.m.
• How to Live a Jellicle Life: See the weird CGI version of everyone’s favourite felines brought to life by Linus Karp. Starts today, Greenside Ridde’s Court, 5.15 p.m.

And also, since I think I won’t get round to mentioning this separately in time, we also have a two shows running since week 1 that close in a few days. There is:

• Head Girl. One of the plays from Durham Fringe, an energetic two hander about a schoolgirl desperately wanting to be Head Girl without really understanding why. Finishes Saturday, runs this week Space on the Mile, 10.55 a.m.
• 1972: The Future of Sex: Another Durham-originated production. Bold move to take on such a difficult play perfected by The Wardrobe Ensemble, but I’m hearing good things from those who’ve seen it. The Space on North Bridge, finishes Saturday 1.20 p.m.

Have fun everyone. I’m next joining you on Sunday.

Sunday 14th August, 11.00 p.m. – Utter Mess!:

A clowning show for a change

And last up in my weekend catchup is another different things: a clowning productions. One of the reasons I picked this is that Stonecrabs is one of the most determined theatre companies to ask me for reviews, and with one of their productions somewhere I can see it I wanted to check this out. Stonecrabs is quite a large theatre company that do productions over sort of different genres, and this clowning piece is a joint production with Busu Theatre, a Japanese company primary specialising in folklore.

A pair a clowns: an older Japanese man and a younger European woman, start off getting the audience to do a warm-up. Any preconceptions this might be a jolly hour of custard pies and cars with wheels that might fall off are dispelled at the end of scene one, when the exciting message they’ve looked forward to seeing says “You’ve been drafted!” Yip-ee-yiy-ay! They are clowns after all. Then comes the “interval”, where the clowning stops and the older clown is informed that the board has decided to lay him off.

I do need to give a major caveat to this review: I am not that familiar with either clowning or Japanese folklore, so there may well be something I didn’t pick up that other people would. From the point of view of someone used to more conventional theatre though, it did feel a bit like this had “concept overload”. There were a lot of abstract concepts thrown in with subjects chopping and changing. The main theme, I picked up, was the two clowns being locked up the Musuem of Lost Things, and they cannot leave until they find what they have lost – not a physical object, but what they have lost in themselves. But I didn’t get what the younger clown constantly taking selfies for Instagram was about. Now, to be fair, I read about the meaning of this in the press release later, and it made more sense. But you can’t count on everybody going back to the press release when they’re stuck.

There are some strong points to the performance. The pair of clowns are both strong performers, and they certainly know their stuff with the loop pedal. I really liked the scene of the laid off clown seeing the annoying psychiatrist who keeps switching to the messenger from the boardroom telling him he’s lost in touch and other messages to talk him down. I guess that, ultimately, this is Stonecrabs’ call. If their target audience is people more used to clowning and/or Japanese folklore, and they’re confident they will pick this up, fair enough, carry on as you are. If, however, this is supposed to be accessible to everybody no matter how little they know of this format, that’s a much bigger challenge, and I don’t have any bright ideas here as this is way outside my field. But good luck either way. Runs until next Saturday at Greenside Infirmary Street if you want see for yourself.

Sunday 14th August, 12.00 p.m.:

The reduction in flyering

Now for a subject I’ve been meaning to get around to. There’s been a lot of talk about a “sustainable” fringe, and one thing that is in the firing line is flyers. I have to say, I’m a bit sceptical about the focus on visible aspects of an event – being seen to make a difference is not the same as actually making a difference. A pub that proudly flaunts is paper straws could still be wasting masses of plastic packaging in the back room, and no-one cares because it’s out of view. Nevertheless, there’s an awful lot of flyers handed round at Edinburgh and it’s worth questioning if this is really necessary. One company who’s made a big thing of this is Box Tale Soup.

No Flyers,
Please Take A Photo 📸#Gulliver2022#EdFringe2022 #Edinburgh pic.twitter.com/JM9nRALnKz

— Alan Wilson (@AlanWilson_SP) August 13, 2022

https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js

The first thing I will say – and I’m sure Noel Byrne and Antonia Christophers will agree with me here – is that what works for one group may not work for another. Box Tale Soup don’t need to flyer – they could probably have a got a tramp to sit on the Royal Mile holding up a piece of cardboard saying “BOX TALE SOUP HAVE A NEW PLAY” and still filled the house. However, what I think a lot of people are forgetting is that this form of publicity has little to do with a piece of paper and a lot to do with direct engagement between performers and prospective audience. The chance of somebody going to a show based on a flyer alone is low, but if you chat to someone about the play who later comes to see it, 80% of the work was done with the chat – the flyer is simply a reminder of the chat, with a note of where to go and when to see it. In theory, the QR code does the same job as the flyer – but I’m sure the small number of flyers handed out this way are negligible compared to all the other resources being burned up.

The practice that I think does need clamping down on is what I call “flyer-spamming”. The logic here is that the chance of getting someone to your show simply by handing out a flyer on the street as they walk past is low – maybe 1% or thereabouts. But if you hand out thousands of flyers, some of them will have success, and you can hand out a lot more flyers if you don’t bother to chat. Or – and this is the big problem – you can pay someone to hand out flyers for you. That way, you can scale up for flyering as much as you like, dishing masses of paper, and it might be low return per flyer but still (in theory) gets you an audience. I hate it myself – there’s few things more soulless than someone flyering who doesn’t care about the play and whose only connection is being paid to hand it out. And no, reciting a pitch by rote doesn’t make it any less soulless. Even if you don’t think this is a big deal environmentally, it places a big extra financial overhead on performing groups, as those who don’t want to hire extra flyerers feel obliged to keep up with those who do. Based on my observations so far, this seems to have been cut down on a lot, and it is a change for the better, maybe environmentally, definitely financially.

There’s other kinds kinds of flyering between these two – there’s piles of flyers in venues, and there’s flyering by venue staff. For reasons I don’t have space to go into, I’m okay with both of those. What I think is important is that we separate out the different kinds of flyering practices going on at the Edinburgh Fringe. The occasional flyer given out by people who are involved in the shows who care about them are not the same as paying for thousands of flyers to be handed out indiscriminately. I personally what we’re seeing at Edinburgh Fringe this year is about the right balance – but don’t obsess over this too much. There are less visible impacts on the environment that might need more attention. It would be a mistake to fall into the trap of performative environmentalism.

Sunday 14th August, 10.30 a.m. – Finlay and Joe, Perpetual Hype Machine:

A fun family-friendly hour of sketches

Okay, that’s enough shitstorm analysis for now. I must get back to reviews. I caught up with visit 1 yesterday, now it’s time for visit 2. I’m going to start with something I don’t normally review: sketch comedy. It’s not quite in my no-go area of stand-up but quite far removed from my normal area of theatre. However, it was what happened to fit into my schedule, and I like to occasionally explore outside my comfort zone, so here we go.

As it happens, this duo might be a sketch group, but they do overlap in theatre a lot. Their on-stage personas are a couple of losers who hear phrases such as “Oh, you’re still at the bar, good for you! I’ve just been promoted.” and “Still at you’re mum’s? That’s nice. I brought a house.” and ” Are you still single? So am I. However, I’m more attractive than you.” However, all that is about to change. They have a new machine that automates sketches. Just spin the wheel and away you go.

Finlay and Joe are a family-friendly sketch group, and it was only about half-way through I realised I was enjoying myself without hearing a rude work or anything risque once. (In fact, I’ve actually dragged down the done myself with the rude/Anglo-Saxon word at the start of this update.) It is fair to say that whilst the sketches are family-friendly, the humour is more likely to be picked up by grown-ups than children. Nevertheless, is was good fun, such as what happens when the engagement ring is the One Ring from The Lord of Rings, and how confusing it is to explain sentient engines to Mick Lynch as he visits the Island of Sodor. In the strongest sketches, the fun part is the moment you realise where this is going.

However, Finlay and Joe have taken a leaf of out Beasts‘ book, and the sketches eventually become part of a story – by creating a super-intelligent AI contraption, it becomes sentient and hell-bent on taking over the world. This, I think, could have been built up a little better – there was an argument over who gets the straight character and funny character in the sketches, but surely this need to be mixed in with increasingly sinister hints building up to the “I’m sorry, Dave, I can’t let you do that” moment.

Fortunately, everything is resolved in the end, culminating in a super-sketch that encompasses at the other sketches. This includes giving a ten-pound note to someone earlier in the show and assuming you’ll get it back later, which I can only describe as brave. As I said, I’m not the best person to rate fringe sketch shows as I don’t have that many to compare it to, but this looks like a good start for a duo who are relative newbies to the comedy circuit on the fringe. Looking forward to seeing where they go next.

Saturday 13th August, 9.15 p.m.:

The war of words between Edfringe and venues calms down?

I’ll crack on with reviews tomorrow, once I’ve got my recovery day out of the way.

On the day of the unexpected shitstorm, it’s worth taking a look at what isn’t shitstorming. After the war of words amongst various venues over the Festival Fringe Society, it’s calmed down in week one and everybody’s just been getting on with things. In some respect, the Edinburgh Fringe has the precedent of the London Olympics counting in its favour; for all the sniping ahead of the games – and there were a lot of thing to argue over – they were swiftly forgotten when the games began. I don’t expect all the issue to go away here, but it might provide some breathing space to re-engage in constructive discussions for next year.

The thing might still be a problem is ticket sales. Should ticket sales across the fringe be particularly bad, expect there to be hell to pay for the Festival Fringe Society, whether or not this is actually the case. One observation that is being repeated all over the fringe (not just this one but also Brighton) is that there a a lot fewer presales and a lot more being bought on the day. As for overall sales, this is harder to gauge. My informal observations from the shows I’ve been in is that they’re about the same as pre-2020, but it varies enormously from show to show. Other observations I’ve heard so far have been similar, give or take a few details.

There are, however, reports of some shows struggling. At this stage, it’s unclear whether this is any better or worse than a normal year. I guess we’ll have to wait for sales figures at the end of the year to get an objective measurement. I would expect a modest shrinkage – the observations from Brighton and Buxton have been that audiences aren’t recovering as fast as participants. But if Edinburgh Fringe is hoping for an acceptable level of ticket sales, I’m cautiously optimistic it’s been achieved.

Saturday 13th August, 5.00 p.m.:

The Jerry Sadowitz business starts kicking off

Brace yourselves. New shitstorm approaching, and not one I was anticipating. The issue of censorship is back.

Amongst the hundreds of comedians lined up for the Edinburgh Fringe, there’s one called Jerry Sandowitz. He was due to perform last night and again tonight. An hour ago, he tweeted this:

https://twitter.com/RealJSadowitz/status/1558457715994812418

But whilst I was writing up my thoughts on this, this came up. Scottish Sun, I’m afraid, but the article seems to keep to factual account of claims. This is probably an over-simplified accounts, but two things stand out. If these claims are true:

• He used some, shall I say, “interesting” words to describe Rishi Sunak related to his ethnicity.
• He exposed himself to a woman in the front row.

On point 1, I am reserving judgement. What he is alleged to have said is appalling, but freedom of speech means defending the right of other people to say things you loathe. Much as I hate it, the alternative is to give other people the power unilaterally censor you because they said you were offensive – and if you don’t think other people can’t find ways to twist your words if they want you silenced, you are very naive. Never underestimate the power of self-appointed people who get to decide what offence is. However, no-one is obliged to offer you a platform, and even in an open-access festival such as Edinburgh I would defend a venue’s right to steer clear of anyone who’s going to be a liability. What is less impressive is a venue cancelling a show in response to protests when you knew perfectly well what you were getting in the first place. That’s not standing by your principles, that’s flip-flopping depending on which crowd you want to appease this week.

This one pushes my patience to the limit. If The Pleasance knew exactly what he was going to say, my dispute would be with The Pleasance – you could take issue with The Pleasance for accepting that in the first place or attack the Pleasance for flip-flopping, but either way the fault would be with them. However, my reading of his publicity is that he has a reputation for being offensive and he might do anything – that’s a weak defence. Maybe the Pleasance should have been clearer over what they would and wouldn’t accept, but if it was me and I heard “I could do anything” I would probably assumed it wouldn’t include something like that. However, there may be details over who said what to whom when, and if this was the only issue I would have waited to see what comes out.

However, point 2 renders point 1 moot. I don’t care how many content warnings you give about what content to expect, waving your dick in from of someone is not acceptable. That’s not a matter of offence versus free speech – that’s verging on being a sex offence. Unless there was an express warning he was going to do that sort of thing, he should count himself lucky the Police weren’t involved. I would have done exactly the same thing if something like that happened in the venue I was responsible for.

So I reluctantly accept The Pleasance had no option but to boot him – but I’m not convinced about their reason. Apparently, they said “opinions such as those displayed on stage by Sadowitz are not acceptable and The Pleasance are not prepared to be associated with such material”. Hang on a second, what exactly is the issue here? Brandishing his dick at someone without her consent, or expressing opinions the management don’t agree with? Surely the first one is the bigger problem here? I accept The Pleasance had to get a statement out quickly, but they’re going to have to be more specific over what this is about. Sure, they did what they had to do, but does this mean they can retrospectively punish anyone they programmed for opinions – even when they knew what to expect when they booked you? I hope not – but it’s up to Pleasance to explain things better.

Saturday 13th August, 3.00 p.m. – Sandcastles:

Popular with audiences, but I don’t get it

I was keen for an opportunity to see Brite Theater as they were behind Emily Carding’s hugely popular Richard III. I never got to see this myself, and I wish I had because 1) I’ve heard a lot of good thigns about it from people who I know and trust, and 2) it features stickers saying “dead” applied to certain unlucky members of the audience. This one features a different writer and different actors, but, it would appear, shares the same high production values as previous plays. Like Ghislaine/Gabler, I think it’s fair to treat this one as a marmite play, with a concept that people will like or won’t. Unfortunately, on this occasion I’m on the other side.

Hannah tells Beth she’s moving to New York. Even though they are lifelong friends – even since the moment they met in the sandcastle park as children – Hannah never told Beth she was thinking of leaving. Throughout their friendship, Hannah has always been the risk-taker and Beth has been the cautious one arm-twisted into wild scheme, and even though Hannah frequently oversteps the line by stealing Beth’s boyfriends and other things, they stay friends. Hannah is finding her feet in New York, keeping little contact with Beth, but dies in a terrorist attack … That’s it. Normally I would hold something back, and in many plays I could not possible write about (or remember), but that’s the entire plot. When the first six minutes consists entirely of Hannah and Beth arguing over this unplanned decision and nothing else, the play swiftly fails the “Get on with it” test. The rest of the play unfolds at a similar slow pace.

That’s a pity, because everything else about the play is done to a high standard. At every point you feel like these two on stage really are the best of friends through thick and thin. The script too is naturalistic and serves the pair well. I was particularly impressed with the music for this – there has been an upturn across the fringes for supporting plays with fitting music to set the mood, and this was one of the best. But sadly none of this can distract me from the painfully slow pace of the story. Much as I have to say this, when the truck attack finally gets talked about – the moment when I ought to be hoping against hope the inevitable never comes – I was wait itching for something, anything, to move the plot along.

I know other people like this. If you want an in-depth intimate portrait of a friendship, and long digressions into memories that need not have any bearing to the story are a plus for you, this could be your think. Indeed, this play as attracted glowing reviews elsewhere for precisely this reason. But me? I don’t get it. Sorry.

Saturday 13th August, 10.30 a.m.:

Finishing in week 1

I meant to do this last night, but my stamina ran out halfway on this train.

Anyway, as we approach the end of week 1, some plays are coming to an end. Here’s a roundup of picks finishing soon:

• Green Knight, a retelling of the story of Sir Gawain as told by Lady Bertilak. Saw it again yesterday, better than I remembered. Finishes Sunday, 5.00 p.m. Scottish Storytelling Centre.
• Nychtophilia, a play set (mostly) in the dark with some cleverly executed writing and staging to go with it. Last performance today, 10.10 p.m., Greenside Infirmary Street.
• Jekyll and Hyde: A One-Woman Show: Helps if you’re familiar with the original book, but the gender-flip used in this story has a different impact to what you might expect. Last performance today, 8.15 p.m., Zoo Playground.
• Ghost Therapy: A fun play about a therapy session for ghosts, written to a surprisingly good standard for an 18-year-old writer. Two last performances today, 11.50 a.m. and 7.20 p.m., Zoo Playground.
• The In-Laws: Mime piece with a down-to-earth storyline that gets very surrealistic very quickly. Half-hour of finely-constructed stagecraft. Last performances today, 11.05 p.m. and again at 11.40 p.m.
• Take It Away, Cheryl: Play set in a kissing booth, except that Cheryl’s lucrative business actually doesn’t involve kissing, instead being a sort-of agony aunt for men. But can Cheryl ever put herself first? Last performance today, 5.30 p.m., Greenside Infirmary Street.
• Late Night Dirty Scrabble, which is Scrabble with rude words. And if you don’t have a rude work, made one up. Or come up with a rude meaning for a normal word. Last performances today and tomorrow, 10.30 p.m., Gilded Balloon Teviot.

Join me later when we catch up with some more reviews.

Friday 12th August, 9.30 p.m. – Make-Up:

The rework pays off

I realise I’m still on reviews from visit 1 when I’ve just hopped on the train home from visit 2, but I will be posting multiple updates over this weekend and catch up.

For this next review, I must declare a conflict of interest. As you should have picked up by now, if I think a play has room for improvement, I will suggest how – and until now, that’s been the end of that. No Logo productions, however, have been keen to stressed to me that that have specifically acted on my feedback from this play what originally saw online for Brighton Fringe 2020. Under these circumstances, it is very tempting to say that the revised version is great and congratulate myself for giving such good feedback, but that temptation must be resisted at all costs. I’ll leave it up to you whether or not you believe me, but it is my honest opinion that this has changed the play for the better.

So, to recap from just under two years ago, Lady Christina, drag artists extraordinaire, is leaving the stage. In the dressing room, glamorous Christina undergoes the transition back to plain old humdrum Chris. Chris expresses some mild snark over these newcomers to the drag scene who think it’s a quick ticket to Ru Paul’s Drag Race. However, the day has arrived when Chris discovers he looks like his estranged father. The one who threw him out for being gay. The weak point with the original is that plays about a gay man and his relationship to a homophobic father are ten a penny. What stood to be interesting was the fantasy world of Christina, with her imagined father who was everything his real dad is not – but that was only an aside. It would be a lot more interesting, I thought, if we heard more about Chris’s alter ego. Clearly Lady Christina means more to Chris than a drag act – but what is it about her that’s so important?

Well, I can sort-of take credit for the idea (not full credit, I gather other people said similar things), but I can’t claim credit for the solution. Andy Moesley now works Lady Christina’s backstory (as imaged by Chris) throughout the play. At some points, Lady Christina’s life is completely different from reality, sometimes different from Chris’s family, other times different from Chris. At other times, however, Chris lifts his own life into Christina’s – every comeback he could have made against the bullies at school, how she won over the cool kids. I won’t tell you the best touch into how Christina came into being, though. That’s too close to the end, too much of a spoiler, but it does a lot to explain why Chris can never leave Christina behind.

I just have one small issue. There’s a slightly confusing lighting cue at the beginning of the play. The rectangle implies that Lady Christina is in the door of her dressing room, but if I have understood the text correctly, she’s still on stage addressing her fans. If that’s the case, I’d have though a spotlight would make more sense. Other than that, good job done. I will give a health warning here and advise that it doesn’t always pay to act on feedback given by a reviewer, not even me – if the reviewer doesn’t share your vision it will only make it worse. On this occasion, however, I’m very happy with the way it’s gone, so thanks a lot to No Logo for persuading me to give this another chance.

Friday 12th August, 3.30 p.m.:

The new virtual half-price ticket hut

I have now tried out the new-look Half Price Ticket “Hut”. I was going to tell you about it earlier, but earlier the internet went for no reason at all. But I can tell you about it now. The Edinburgh Fringe has got stick for a lot of things, but for once, this is a decision I support. In spite of everybody saying the Fringe has to change, there’s been a lot of calls to keep things the same, and this one I think doesn’t make sense to stay the same.

The Half Price Ticket Hut is an unusual part of the Edinburgh Fringe. Most things need to be made quick and easy, but the Half Price Ticket Hut needs, by design, to be just the right level of inconvenient. Make it as easy as buying a normal ticket, and everyone’s going to buy the half-price tickets instead and your box office income halves for the day. Make it too difficult and nobody uses it. What you ideally want is a method of sale that people looking for a bargain will use, but people who would see your play anyway won’t. Until 2019, that meant a jaunt to the bespoke Half Price Ticket Hut on Princes Street.

The Festival Fringe Society says the prefabs used for the physical hut are at their end of life and they can’t afford to replace it. Maybe that’s true, maybe the real reason is cutting down on the cost of staffing two different ticket offices. But the more important point, I think, is that ticket buying has changed. E-tickets, rolled out for an emergency, have become permanent, and I’m willing to bet that most people aren’t switching back from online tickets. With half-price listings (if I recall correctly) already available online, I’m not sure it’s worth going out of your way to show the listing on a noticeboard too.

So I tried this out myself and it all went smoothly. The only hiccup is that I couldn’t remember how to spell the show I’d chosen to see, and with no mobile reception in the ticket office it was impossible to look it up. Maybe the fringe Box Office staff need access to the same list on the website to cover this situation – and if people ask what’s on sale at half price, we can live with that. There is one other caveat: I got my ticket first thing in the morning as the box office open. I know that historicially the central Fringe box office was notorious for long queue times. This may well have changed with the rise of online sales, but if it hasn’t, this might push the half-price system from “right amount of inconvenience” to “unworkable”. Let me know what your observations are.

Finally, just a reminder that you shouldn’t write off plays just because they’re on sale at half price. You’d be forgiven for assuming that if they’re reduced, they’re having trouble selling tickets, and therefore the play can’t be that good. However, my long experience is that plays on half-price tickets are just as likely to be good or bad as regular tickets. Indeed, the promising-looking play I brought a ticket for did not disappoint.

But on the whole, I don’t see merging two box offices into one as a big deal, especially when in-person sales are not nearly as important as they used to be. So move along, folks. Nothing to see here.

Friday 12th August, 8.00 a.m. – Ghislaine/Gabler:

An insight into the mind of a predator who blames anyone but herself

On my way back for a day visit. Later today I will be doing my first “lucky dip” chosen by what’s in the half-price ticket (virtual) hut. Before then, let’s use the time to catch up with reviews from last week.

Now for one of the wildcards I’d listed in my picks and one of the riskiest. Once of the big news stories at the start of the year was the trial of Ghislaine Maxwell, now proven is Jeffrey Epstein’s number one accomplice. But whilst it’s easy to guess what made Epstein do what she did, there is the puzzle over Ghislaine. Why did she do it? She certainly had far from a normal childhood – a controlling father and children competing to be his favourite, (something that she finally succeeded in doing) – but how do get from that to chief conspirator for a systemic abuser?

Obvious caveat before we proceed: this is a play, not a documentary. The only person who might know what is going through Ghislaine Maxwell’s head is Ghislaine Maxwell – this is only speculation of what she might be thinking. Nevertheless, Kristin Winters’ depiction is one that has been observed in countless abusers and sex offenders: they don’t think they’ve done anything wrong. They may deny doing what they’re accused of, but even then they don’t really think the thing they were accused of doing is that bad. At this point I should give a content warning for the play. I know I’ve been getting heavy on content warnings lately – I try to avoid them when it’s obvious from the title, but this one is pretty full-on with the victim-blaming. Sometimes Winters switches to playing the victims – little about the abuse itself but a heavy focus on the exploitation of their naivety. Back as Ghislaine, she insists she was doing all these teenage girls a favour when she did all the things she denies doing but obviously did.

How does Hedda Gabler fit into this? It’s only a small part of the performance, and you could probably have run the rest of the play without this bit. Nevertheless, on the occasions this parallel is used, the gamble works. In this depiction, Ghislaine admires Hedda Gabler – but for all the wrong reasons. Hedda shows her true colours as the play goes on over how much of a controlling individual she is and that she can’t help herself, perhaps a rationalisation of her like-minded father. The one exception she insists on is that the Maxwells don’t give in. They don’t commit suicide, so it must have been murdered – but Ghislaine only reveals the level of delusion she shares with her fictional role model.

I think it’s fair to say this is going to be a Marmite play. Not everyone is going to be comfortable with the way this subject material is portrayed, essential though it is to the concept. The parallel to Hedda Gabler is a wild idea which I suspect is going to split opinion. If this isn’t the sort of thing you want to see, I don’t blame you. But see it if you can. Many plays are fast to condemn the worst things that happen in the word, but few try to understand.

Thursday 11th August – Death of a Disco Dancer:

Technical excellence, but would benefit from better characterisation

That’s enough ranting, let’s get back to reviews. Next up, a play that concludes on Saturday.

In Death of a Disco Dancer, four friends, newly-graduated from university, get together for one last party. This final party, it quickly emerges, involves, dancing, playing loud music, drinking a lot and taking all manner of drugs. It’s a wonder they don’t attract any noise complaints for the neighbours, but perhaps they have good taste with their bangin’ choons no-one minds. The drinking and drug-taking is taking its toll though. At least one of this cozy foursome never has the death of his father far away on his minds, and there’s only so far anyone can keep this up.

The first thing I will say about this is how good the sound and lighting plot it. In fact, this applies to lots of fringe shows now, from entry-level to the highest budget. The technological capabilities to have sound and lighting plots this sophisticated have existed for at least ten years now, but expertise has been slow to catch up. I have frequently cursed when I see simple technical problems that could have easily been averted with a little technical know-how. In the last couple of years, however, I’ve seen companies get a lot more ambitious, with people who know what they’re doing, know what can and can’t be achieved, and produce impressive results with what they have. Ultraviolet Theatre have produced one of the best technical plots I’ve seen, covering music, sounds, gorgeous lighting, and – the important thing that’s easy to forget – a production that knows how to work with this.

However, the exquisite staging conceals some weaknesses with the plot. I get that these four friends are presumably close through their shared love of hedonism and debauchery, but apart from that I never really understood why they behaved as they did. In particular, why one of them suddenly turn on the others half-way through and rail against the shallowness of their parties? Okay, he’s got a steady job so maybe he’s seeing things differently, but why change tune so suddenly when he’s been just as drink and drunk-addled as the others up to this point? The root problem, I suspect, is that the characterisation isn’t coming across the way it should do. This company may have very good reasons why each of the four behaves like they do, when they do – but if the audience doesn’t pick this up, it counts for nothing and just confuses people.

The even more root issue? Devised theatre is hard. Individual character arcs created by individual cast members sometimes get confusing and/or contradictory when combined into the same play. It is this sort of situations where it helps to have a dramaturg, but that is a minefield in its own right, for sometimes a good dramaturg has to ditch the favourite story arc created by one of the actors for the play to make sense. All I can suggest is to try to disregard everything you know about the play and its characters and try to imagine what an audience who knows nothing about this story will pick up – and I realise this is easier said than done. But if, as I suspect, there is more to this story than is coming across, there is a lot of potential still to be unlocked. And with the technical plot that is top of its game, there’s a lot to be made of this.

Wednesday 10th August:

Yet another drama school overrun by gropers?

But now, it’s time for a pause from Edinburgh Fringe coverage. This live coverage isn’t just for the fringe, it’s also for any other big news relevant to the theatre I cover. I apologise to those of you who regularly read my blog who will notice me flogging a dead horse and saying the same things over and over again. But my peak readership comes at Edinburgh Fringe so I can’t let this pass.

The big theatre news a few weeks back was the sudden closure of the Academy of Live and Recorded Arts – so sudden that students turned up one day to find the building was locked. At the moment, the majority of complaints in the arts concerning sexual harassment or racism seem to involve drama schools, but this one seemed to be down to crap financial management (albeit something the law looks on very dimly if they were trading whilst insolvent*). Now, according to The Stage, there were allegations of sexual and harassment at this one too, with the management at the time yet again allegedly to not take this seriously. I must stress these are currently only allegations, and the former principal implicated in overseeing this denies wrongdoing. In my experience, these allegations get proven true a lot more than they’re proven false, but I’m not really interested in the merits of the allegations over one particular venue. I’m far more concerned at the sheer number of times these allegations are coming up – and the sheer number of times the rests of the arts industry shrugs their shoulders and does bugger all about it.

* Footnote: I should add that this is the one thing where it now look like management are off the hook. By reporting their financial difficulties to the Office for Students five months before closure, they probably have enough of a defence to say that their financial activities were in line with what the OFS said was okay. Whether the OFS’s guidance was reasonable is another debate, but unless somebody knows something I don’t, it gets them off the most serious charge of concealing the true state of the finances.

These sorts of complaints don’t always involve drama schools, but a hell of a lot of them do. I don’t believe this is a coincidence. There is an old saying that the greatest power an actor has is to say no, and whilst that’s a massive over-simplification, it’s very relevant here. Even when directors and producers with a track record of abuse are never held to account, the actors who used to work with them before won’t work with them again, and – with the exception of the most powerful individuals – word gets round to future actors who think twice before signing. Drama school students do not have that luxury. If you discover what your teachers are really like, you’re stuck with them for months or years. They have the power to mark you down, maybe end your career before it’s started. Furthermore, whilst more experienced actors probably have some idea of what is and isn’t acceptable, it’s far too easy to pass off predatory or bigoted actions to drama students as normal behaviour. The only sort-of comforting news from ALRA is that there’s a distinct possibility that tolerating this sort of behaviour may have let to eventual financial meltdown. If morals isn’t enough to make you stand up to abusers, perhaps the prospect of closure will.

Why are theatres up and down the country not up in arms about this? The moral high ground taken by theatres in the wake of Weinstein gets hollower and hollower every time a scandal such as this goes unacknowledged by them. In retrospect, the stance increasingly looks like the cowardly one used by so many people. Yes, groping and bigotry is a Bad Thing™, but it is done by the Bad People™ who are Over There™, and Nothing To Do With Us™. Sorry, but this isn’t good enough. You fail the victims when you cosy up to organisations when the going’s good and fall silent when the truth comes out. You fail the victims when they fear speaking out will get the kicked out the arts and you say nothing to indicate the opposite. You fail the victims when you go along with the discredited status quo that arts organisations can be trusted to police themselves and needn’t be held to account. And no, commissioning plays to say why the Bad Thing™ is bad is not an acceptable substitute for taking responsibility, and does not in itself put you amongst the Good People™.

I apologise for interrupting Edinburgh Fringe’s coverage with a rant like this, but if you are somebody with the power do to do something about this, I’m begging you to do so. Major theatres would do so much good telling drama students whose side they’re on. Make it clear that no working relationship, however valuable, is worth turning blind eye to things. Give an assurance that you will never refuse to hire an actor for speaking out against another organisation. That’s the easy bit – whether people trust you to practice what you preach is the hard bit, but at least try. Everyone else – if you know people with the power to change things for the better, please talk to them. I can’t do this as a one-man crusade. It’s going to be a lot easier if I’m one of many saying the same thing.

Okay, rant over. Back to news, review, spicy bantz and memes tomorrow.

Tuesday 9th August – An Audience with Stuart Bagcliffe:

The companion play to Vermin does not disappoint

Triptych Theatre impressed we the Brighton Fringe with Vermin. That was one of two plays; the other one I couldn’t catch owning to timings, but I was keen to see the other one. One of the first things I noticed as the play begin was that most people in the audience – possibly everyone but me – was seeing this as a comedy, as socially awkward Stuart takes to the stage. In spite of the title, he is possibly the least prepared person for any audience. Nor does it help that the techie seems to miss most of the cues.

I wasn’t laughing though. Not because of the delivery, but because of what I just knew was coming. For a start, with this being the same writer as the dark-as-hell Vermin with its graphic descriptions of animal cruelty (not to mention playing the nutjob-in-chief himself), I knew something bad was coming. Even if I hadn’t know that, though, I probably would have guessed. It’s pretty obvious from the outset that not only is Stuart unsuited the stage and doesn’t really want to do it, there’s no way he should be forced to do this. Instead, it’s his pushy mother making him do this. For another thing, Stuart has a rare medical condition with his blood, but to be honest, that’s not his real problem. Stuart is very naive and trusting. I know from bitter experience what this leads to.

Benny Ainsworth’s writing of both plays shows just how good he is at characterisation. If Vermin writes a believable character guilty of some of the worst things, Stuart is written as the archetypal innocent. He assumes that the correct way to answer a question about density of water is to ask if it’s solid or liquid, not understanding the science teacher is an arrogant egotists who hates anyone putting a foot out of place. Stuart’s mother is a nuanced character, and whilst I can’t quite let her off the hook for keeping her child under her thumb, she still cares for her son and wants what she believes is best for him. Even when things happen that would be dismissed as far-fetched, Ainsworth finds a way to make it plausible.

There is just one thing about the story which doesn’t quite work. Much of the story surrounds his first love Daisy, who understands him the way the rest of the school doesn’t. Trying my hardest to not to do a spoiler, Stuart and Daisy both separately get mixed up in something worse that overbearing parents or arrogant teachers. I can easily see why Stuart would have fallen for it, but I found it hard to believe that level-headed Daisy would have fallen for it too. I can’t see any easy way of making this plot point more believable, but it was a shame to have this weak point amongst such good characterisation.

That’s the only criticism I have amongst two excellent plays though. This is truly is an achievement. I’ve seen groups come out of nowhere with one excellent play, but two excellent pays on the first attempt is very impressive. I highly recommend catching both – this one at 10.55 a.m at Zoo Playground, with Vermin at 1.00 p.m. at Gilded Balloon Teviot. But know what you’re letting yourself in for.

Monday 8th August:

The two fundamental mistakes made by the Festival Fringe Society

First of all, another housekeeping announcement. My next visit to Edinburgh is a day visit on Friday 12th. This is going to be mostly mopping up things that didn’t fit in last week, but there may be opportunities for new reviews. Will draw up a plan tomorrow. Before I write any more reviews though, it’s time for the hot take I promised. Here’s what I think are the two fundamental mistakes the Festival Fringe society made this year. One is uncontentious; the other one might lose me a few friends.

The first mistake I believe was made this year was over management of expectations. I doubt many people will argue over this now. Even the Festival Fringe Society themselves must realise this. With the exception of the silly decision over media support, all of the controversial things attributable to the Festival Fringe Society were down to money. Why is Fringe Central out of the way in a shopping centre? They were giving the space away for free. Why is there no physical half-price ticket hut? The old one is falling to bits, can’t afford to build a new one. Why is there no app? Lack of money (plus a miscalculation on how high the priority was for many people). Most of the bailout money, the festival fringe society said, went into keeping the society afloat (and I don’t believe for a moment they could tell porkies about that without their funders going over the accounts and finding out). It was simply not possible for Edinburgh Fringe 2022 to run on the same level of central fringe services as Edinburgh Fringe 2019.

The problem is, they should have said that months ago. True, no promises have actually been broken – the Festival Fringe Society never said there would be an app, for example. But the fact remains everybody assumed that everything that was part of the fringe in before times would still be there, and many people registered on that assumption. There wouldn’t have been nearly so many arguments if the Festival Fringe Society has been clear from the outset not to expect something in 2022 just because it was around in 2019. One side effect might have been some acts deciding it wasn’t worth taking part after all. Well, good. There’s far too much demand on accommodation playing into the hands of greedy landlords, let’s take the pressure off a bit and get costs down to something saner. The downside? Fewer registrations means less cash flow to keep the Festival Fringe Society afloat. They may have to downsize, maybe even make redundancies. I sympathise – but everyone’s job is in a lot more trouble now. Yes, I’m saying this with the benefit of hindsight, but still, wrong call.

The second mistake might be more controversial. In my opinion, the biggest error of judgement made by the Festival Fringe Society was to bend over backwards for the Big Four. The 2021 fringe happened because of the Festival Fringe Society making a last-ditch bit for financial support, but the lion’s share of the support went to the Big Four. And, okay, that was an emergency, they had to do something quickly, but that excuse doesn’t hold into 2022. Many of the unpopular decisions were optimised to the benefit the Big Four and the acts performing there. As I’ve already said, subsidising national newspaper journalists (who are notorious for never leaving to swankiest venues) suits high-profile acts in high-profile places, but is of little help to the cheap venues. The cuts to Fringe Central and the app disproportionately hit the acts in the smaller venues – the Big Four have their own marketing and performer support and needn’t worry as much. I find it difficult to believe the Big Four didn’t have a hand steering things in their favour.

Which might have been okay if the Festival Fringe Society and Big Four stood shoulder to shoulder to defend their position. Instead, the Big Four have been mostly joining in with the dogpiling. With one honourable exception (The Pleasance on their press launch), the Big Four seemingly want you to believe all the unpopular decisions adversely affect acts mostly at other venues was entirely the Festival Fringe Society’s doing and not in the slightest bit to do with them. Sorry, but I’m not buying this, I don’t believe you can duck all responsibility for this. And after the Festival Fringe Society moving heaven and earth to get the Big Four running in 2021 (and barely anyone else), this comes across as sounding like a bunch of ungrateful tossers.

The complaints from the smaller venues and the acts that perform there are valid. They have perfectly legitimate reasons to be angry. But it seems to me like there’s no pleasing three quarters of the Big Four. It might already be too late for the Festival Fringe Society to change its priorities, but you should be extremely suspicious of venues who should be sharing responsibility leaping on a convenient scapegoat.

Rant over. Let the flame war begin.

Sunday 7th August, 10.45 p.m. – Take It Away, Cheryl:

Kissing booth or agony aunt?

This final review is later than I planned because it’s taken me time to get home. I knew evening buses in Durham were shite, but I’ve just found out the service level on Sunday is even shiter. Anyway, here we are. Time for one last review before bed.

In this play, Cheryl welcome you to her kissing booth. If you are the audience member who’s sitting on a dime, you can place it into the coin slot to activate the booth. But before you get too excited, Cheryl’s kissing booth does not actually offer kisses any more. She inherited the business from her family and now her service is to listen to the problems of men. And she’s pretty good at this. And – just like some men who hire prostitutes discover they’d rather sit and talk rather than have sex – this service is proving very popular.

Actually, this is only half the story. There is another plot thread not advertised anywhere that feeds into this not that far into the play, but I think it is possible to to review this without giving the game away. What I think I can safely say is that, even with the new unexpected theme coming in, the central theme holds, which is that Cheryl spends so much time listening to any trying to solve other people’s problems, she doesn’t take enough time for herself. The one thing she is desperate to do today is lay flowers on the grave of the love of her life who shot himself – one might suspect the reason she’s so invested in solving other people’s problems is to compensate for the man she couldn’t save.

There is one thing I would change about this. For the second time in as many days, I’m going to suggest that a solo play would work better as a two-hander. It’s not crying out for this quite as strongly as Morecambe, but a lot of this story sounds like a visit from someone not like the others. One problem with being an agony aunt in a booth advertised as a kissing booth is that some of these losers mistake listening for feelings, which she normally knows how to deal with. Unfortunately, this particular man is a bit of a nutcase. The problem is that is lengthy conversations she has with a voice makes the play go static. My hunch is that we need to see him on stage to really see him for the unstable man he is. After he departs (people who’ve seen it don’t spoil it), I’m sure the plot at the end could be tweaked to give him a role one way or another.

I’ve refrained from giving away the unexpected direction in the plot and I won’t tell you now, except to say that this may increasingly take over the plot as we reach the climax, but it does not lose sight of the central theme: can Cheryl ever choose herself for a change? Worth a visit, and runs until Saturday 13th at Greenside Infirmary Street, 5.20 p.m.

Sunday 7th August, 6.15 p.m.:

Has signage in venues got worse?

I am on the train home. For those of you familiar with my coverage, you will know that it slows down when I’m away from Edinburgh and I have a day job to do. For this reason, I will be prioritising the plays on short runs next. I want those that finish on the 13^th to have a reasonable amount of runs remaining if they wish to make use of my reviews.

Before then, I want to make a brief observations. It’s not a big deal compared to all the other things causing outrage, but no-one else seems to be picking up on this.

For some reason, signage within venues seems to have got particularly bad this year. There was a time where you could turn up to a venue, see what is on today on a board, see which space your chosen show is in, and from there know exactly where to go and which queue to join. This year, most of the venues I’ve seen is missing at least one of those things. I’ve seen listings for evening shows with no idea where listings for afternoon shows are, listings across all of Pleasance when I want to know which venue to go to, and in Underbelly Cowgate not be able to see signs to any of these spaces. Yes, I’m reputed to have a good memory for fringe plays, but my skills to not extend to knowing off by heart the name and location of dozens on individual spaces within major venues. (I’m aware the e-tickets now say which individual space you’re going to, but e-tickets are clumsy to dig out and certainly don’t help you with finding the space you’re after.)

I apologise for getting on my software tester high horse again, but this is something that I think could benefit from usability testing. I’m aware this isn’t software but the principle is the same: just as the Edinburgh Fringe website is designed by people who assume everybody knows how to navigate the website, signs in fringe venues seem to be designed by people who already know their way round the venue and assume everyone else will pick it up just like that.

In this case, testing would entail getting some volunteers who know little about the venue to be sent in with a ticket for a show. Don’t prompt them, don’t guide them, just leave them to their own devices and see if the information you have laid out is enough to get them there. One principle of software usability testing that applies here: if your volunteers are making mildly snarky comments, that is you warning that things aren’t working as well as you hoped. Learn from your mistakes and try again.

Anyway, that’s me passed Morpeth. I am in a rehearsal for another play this evening (yes, I’m a glutton for punishment); I’ll try to get another review in before bed.

Sunday 7th August, 5.45 p.m. – Fabulett 1933:

A solo musical about the Nazi crackdown on gay-friendly clubs in Berlin

Welcome back. That was another three plays seen in quick succession. Scores on the doors: 4 review written so far, 6 pending. Let’s get moving.

So next up is Fabulett 1933, set on the closing night of the Fabulett Nightclub, Berlin. Between the two World Wars, Berlin enjoyed a spell as the hedonistic capital of Europe. Needless to say, the new government in Berlin is not at all keen on This Sort Of Thing and has ordered the closure of all dens that “promote immorality”. For Fabulett’s, there’s no wriggle room, for the emcee Felix is dressed in an outfit that makes The Rocky Horror Show look like Andy Pandy. Which, I must stress, is perfectly fine if you like that sort of thing, but try telling that to the Nazis.

Fabulett 1933 is performed as a one-person musical, somewhat fitting for the host Michael Trauffer) presiding over the defiant closure at 10 p.m. Felix’s own story is of a youth demobbed after the Germany’s defeat; faced with the choice of returning to his authoritarian father or more tolerant Berlin, he opts for the latter. When he loses his more understanding mother – his relationship with her one of the most touching bits of the play – Fabulett’s becomes his only life. As well as the brief period of hedonism in Berlin, the other thing portrayed knowledgeably was the rise of convention defying science from people such as Magnus Hirschfeld, one of the first researchers of transgenderism. We know his work is going to suffer a similar fate to Fabulett’s.

Where I think this play could have said more is on the rise of the Nazis. In this production, the Nazis are portrayed as something that people should have seen coming and suddenly they were there. I wonder if that’s all the story though. One thing that I Am a Camera portrayed so well (something that wasn’t in either the stage or film versions of the musical) was that the Nazis didn’t gain a foothold with Jew-hatred just because of what some demagogues on podiums were says – it was when ordinary people going about their lives started saying the same thing. Did a similar thing happen for gay people? Did people who used to ignore them suddenly see them as the root of all immorality? Because that’s too good a chapter of the story to miss if it was.

One small thing I’d say on a technical note is I’d dispense with the headset mic. I’ve seen those little buggers in action often enough to know they’re notoriously unreliable. When your songs are prone to being disrupted this much, they easiest solution is to just not bother and rebalance the piano to work with acoustic vocals – and in a small space like this one it shouldn’t be too hard. On the whole, however, this was an enjoyable and informative performance. Runs to the 13^th at The Space Triplex at 8.55 p.m., and then runs for the est the Fringe at Surgeon’s Hall.

Sunday 7th August, 10.15 p.m.:

Press launch at The Space

Now that I have my seven-show day out of the way, I can turn my attention back to The Space’s press launch on Friday, which I was invited to. For those who don’t know how this works, in Edinburgh all the major venues have their own press launches, with most of them having excerpts from shows in their programme.

I only starting getting invited to their launch in 2021 (I have previously been invited to launches but not been there on the right day), so I don’t have any pre-Covid launches to compare this too, but this looks pretty good. This needs to be treated with some caution – it is in the interest of all the venues to pick their absolute best acts to showcase and don’t say much about the rest of the programme – but what I saw seemed impressive. Out of all of these, UK Underdog interested me the most: a story which seems to combine every form of racism with the gladiatorial culture of a rough secondary school. I must try to catch this.

I’ve been wondering for the last couple of years which way The Space will go. Prior to 2020, The Space did have some notoriety. Unlike most venues, that curate to some extent, The Space works on a first come first served basis. The good news is that The Space performs a vital function on keeping the fringe open. The bad news is that there’s a lot of terrible plays that end up at The Space because no-one else will take them.

The standard I saw at The Space last year, however, was pretty decent. Part of the reason, I presume, was that last year, we had the Big Four, The Space, and very little in between, and so The Space took many acts that otherwise would have gone to places such as Greenside and Zoo. This year, Greenside and Zoo are back. However, other mid-tier venues such as Sweet and Bedlam haven’t come back for 2022. C Venues is around, but only on a small scale, having not escaped the spotlight over working conditions.

What I’ve seen so far at The Space seems fairly decent too. Treat my observations with caution, because I am only working on a small sample, but The Space might be emerging as a winner of post-Covid fringe.

Sunday 7th August, 12.15 a.m. – Gulliver:

Box Tale Soup’s best play yet

Sorry about the gap in coverage – it was full-on seeing four more shows back to back, of of which was Dirty Scrabble where I was in Dicktionary Corner assuming the character of a sleazy version of Richard Osman. Oh well, that’s my reputation as a serious theatre maker in tatters.

But I am not going go to bed until we get this exciting announcement out of the way. Here we are. We’ve only had to wait until my second day for this is happen, but for Box Tale Soup it’s been a longer wait. But it’s about time they got my highest accolade, equivalent to five stars,

I expected Jonanthan Swift’s famous story to be ideal for Box Tale Soup to take on – after all, you have to take on the challenge of tiny people in Lilliput and gigantic people in Brobdingnag somehow, and puppetry is the logical way to do it. However, Noel Byrne and Antonia Christophers have had years of practice and several previous productions to hone their craft, and it pays off handsomely.

What you see on stage is a playbook of everything crafted to perfection. The obvious choice of the tiny people of Lilliput is puppets, and as any accomplished puppeteer knows, it is possible to keep the focus on a puppet but still make the puppeteer part for the action. All of the cast of three operate puppets at some point, and it always pays to apply the facial expression of the puppet you’re operating. However, Box Tale Soup are very versatile and masterfully switch between Lilliputians played by puppets and the actors playing the Lilliputians themselves. When the land of giants comes, the obvious choice is to make Gulliver the puppet himself, but not always. When a human-size Gulliver views is first giant – well, I won’t spoil that for you, but let’s just say the set of the doomed ship used at the beginning of the play has all shorts of uses through the hour.

No amount of clever puppetry, though, compensates for a misunderstood story. Here, again, Clarke and Christophers deliver handsomely. In all four of the strange lands visited (for this adaptation does include the lesser-told chapters of the flying island and the land where horses are masters), the politics are reflections of human society, commentating on just about every acts of vanity, cruelty, vindictiveness, prejudice and arrogance known to man. The Lulliputians, for instance, are at war with their neighbours over a stupid dispute on the correct way to open an egg. (We, of course, know the correct thing to fight centuries of war over is who got the details correct in a story of a magic baby and a stable.) It’s not just the shortcomings of these other lands that is brought to bear – Gulliver find the vales of the continent he came from challenged just as much. The common theme brought throughout this is all civilisations thinks they’re better than the others. Even the Houyhnhnms – the horse beings seemingly the most enlightened of all the beings he encountered – always look down on Gulliver is inferior to them.

It’s a challenge to bring four separate stories together in an hour, but the script chooses what matters perfectly. Everything about this production is flawless, from the choreography to the sound, to the pace to the puppetry, and if I was to wax lyrical about every inventive acts I would never finish this review. I am used to Box Tale soup producing high-quality shows in their unique style, but this time they have excelled themselves. I thoroughly recommend this to everyone, and you can catch them at 10.50 a.m. at Underbelly Cowgate from now to the end of the fringe.

And with this exciting news broken, it’s now time for bed.

Saturday 6th August, 5.00 p.m. – The In-Laws:

Top-notch mime comedy

Now we go over to something from the Comedy section. Like a lot of my favourites, though, The In-Laws straddles multiple categories, and could just have been under physical theatre or theatre.

Tim Ogborne plays a may who starts off his day in the office. He starts with multiple failed attempts to log into his computer. A lesser performer would have taken as easier route and said “Come on, take the bloody password,” but his this performance Ogborne keeps in perfect synchronisation to a soundtrack, reacting both to fruitless and fruitless attempt to type a login, and the look of frustration syncs every time we hear the inevitable login failed sounds. The good news is that he finally makes it in, but the bad news is that his girlfriend phones him up to remind him that tonight she’s introducing him to her parents.

In performer Tim Ogborne’s own words “This one-man show breathes new life into the form of mime, blending tightly rehearsed choreography with a meticulously created soundscape.” I wouldn’t normally quote a blurb verbatim, but I couldn’t have done it better myself. It’s becoming increasingly common to craft action round soundscape, but it’s obvious from the outset he does this much better than most of his peers. The battle with the login prompt is just the beginning, with the rest of the action from the day in the office to an awkward meeting with the overbearing parents to the death-defying chase and showdown with future father-in-law.

The only flaw I have to pick out is the transition I’ve just mentioned. One moment we’ve got a relatable awkward meet-the-parents moment, the next moment future father-in-law is trying to kill him, reason unclear. As far as I can tell, our hero went to the bathroom and discovered a secret passage and saw something he wasn’t supposed to see, but I fear there is an important detail there I didn’t pick up. But it doesn’t matter too much. This story isn’t supposed to be taken too seriously, and it’s a lot of fun to watch with a lot of skill needed to put this together. At 30 minutes this is on the short side for fringe performances, but it’s the ideal length for this. This runs until the 13^th at Greenside Infirmary at 11.05 p.m. with extra performances at 11.40 on Friday and Saturday. Recommended as you’ll see nothing like this.

Saturday 6th August, 3.00 p.m.:

Why subsidising the national press is a mistake

Right now meet the media is going on. I’m not at this, and, to be honest, I probably wouldn’t be much use there (with almost all my reviews decided on press releases in advance), but I didn’t miss the drama about Broadway Baby pulling out in advance. This is in protest over the Festival Fringe society’s decision to provide accommodation to high-profile publications (namely The Times, The Guardian, The Daily Mail, The Evening Standard, I-newspaper, Beyond the Joke, The Stage, The Observer and The Sunday Times), but not the smaller publications. Cue outrage from the bespoke ones who do nothing but review fringe. Whilst Broadway Baby is the only one to make a gesture this noisy, other publications have backed up the reason they’re protesting.

I think the decision to support the larger media publications is a mistake, but for nuanced reasons.

First of all, apologies if this annoys any colleagues, but Edinburgh Fringe owes the media nothing. Yes, The Wee Review and Broadway Baby and many other publications do the fringe a favour by working for free and at their own expense, but the same can be said of most performance, many of whom invest a lot more for even less reward. There is one reason and one reason only that the Festival Fringe Society should consider any form of help to the media, and that’s if it benefits the acts who are registered with them.

The smaller publications and the bigger newspapers perform different functions. For the smaller publications such as Broadway Baby, this gives countless smaller groups the chance to get a review that they wouldn’t have a hope in hell of getting from the big players. Reviews are not the be an and end all, but the difference between zero reviews and one reviews for many acts is a significant one. It may be your only chance at constructive feedback for the future. It may be your only way of being taken seriously back home. If you start the fringe in a strong position, however, that’s when newspapers such as The Times and Guardian come into play. That might get you into the big time. So there is a case to support all of these.

At this moment in time, however, this is the wrong priority. Subsidy for the big publications is a great deal of help, but only for the small number of acts in a position to get their attention. At this moment in time, I think we should be prioritising what helps the most acts. In other words, it is comes to a choice between The Guardian or Broadway Baby, pick Broadway Baby. If you want to support the big acts, that seems like something the Big Four should consider – they, after all, have a lot more at stake supporting the top-flight acts.

The other reason I think this is a mistake at this particular moment, however, is more obscure. I have been saying for several years now that it would be better for the Edinburgh Fringe to lose its status of “holy grail”. Focusing on the big publications at the expense of the small ones does the opposite. We do not want to be entrenching the idea that Edinburgh Fringe is the place to be discovered (a place, yes, but not the only place). If anything, we should be encouraging The Times, The Guardian et all to be spending less to in Edinburgh Fringe and more time in small festivals such as Brighton Fringe. So many problems at Edinburgh could be avoided if other fringes shared the load, but as it standing the national media is doing everything to entrench the unhealthy status quo.

Finally, just a small issue, but why the fuck is the Daily Mail on this list. I can see a case for any of the others, but the Daily Mail, particularly Quentin Letts, is quite open in its contempt for theatre makers. Quentin Letts can come along and spout his attention-seeking drivel because he has free speech, but why encourage this?

So a black mark for the festival fringe society – but are they really the only ones at fault? I will be addressing this later.

Saturday 6th August, 9.30 a.m. – Morecambe:

A solo show crying out to be a two-hander

Phew. The problem with jam-packed schedules is that there isn’t much time to write up these reviews. One written, three pending, so let’s use the quiet morning to get another out of the way.

Morecambe is about the comedian and not the town, although we do learn that Eric Bartholomew did adopt his home town as his stage name. Out of the two of Morecambe and Wise, the former is probably the better of the two to make a solo play about, mainly because of the build-up to the premature final curtain. Like many beloved entertainers, he literally worked himself to death, with the sensible option to call it day overruled by the pleasure of giving millions what they want. The story most of us know is the rise and rise and rise with their famous television shows. As with most success stories, however, what you seldom hear is what happened before then. The story from the beginning covers the numerous failures before the big time including, somehow counter-intuitively, their first TV appearance. (Note: never trust a TV executive who insists on writing the gags for you.)

Judging by the age of the audience, I think I can safely say this play has a particular appeal to the Morecambe and Wise generation. A lot of the play includes the most famous jokes of Eric and Ernie, both on stage to their audiences and within the story. My knowledge of their routines is largely limited to the Andre Previn skit, but it looks like this was a sufficiently faithful reproduction to earn the approval of the fans. Speaking of Andre Previn, the appearance of the stars is a good marker of the peak of their fame – as the play observes, appearing on their show was the sig the nation consider you a good egg.

We didn’t always get Eric Morecambe as a person though. His brushes with mortality were done well, especially the applause following his first stage appearance after his first heart attack. However, we didn’t always pick up how he felt in his earlier career. Saying “I got depression” after the first TV flop is all very well, but writing this into what he says would be stronger. What I think is missing, however, is Ernie Wise. He is represented by a puppet throughout the play, but with his partnership with Ernest Wiseman making up at least 80% of the story, it get a bit clumsy for Ernie to say all of his lines. But, more to the point, Ernie isn’t just his co-star, he’s also his closest friend who supports him throughout the ups and downs. I could see the camaraderie between the two being very movie if done right – also, on a practical note, this adds a lot of flexibility to allow two-sided conversations (Tom McGrath’s Laurel and Hardy and Brain Mitchell’s Big Daddy versus Giant Haystacks are good examples of how to do this.)

So there lies the paradox. Morecambe won’t disappoint the faithful, and for a small group is Soham it’s impressive. But this one-hander is, I think, crying out to be made into a two-hander. A decent play could be a fantastic one. Does Viva Arts have a suitable Ernie Wise look-a-like amongst their number. If so, I say go for it.

Friday 5th August, 6.00 p.m. – Ghost Therapy:

An impressive debut from an 18-year-old

Here we go. It’s time for the first review and it’s a decent start. Ghost Therapy is advertised as written by an 18-year-old writer and that was a quite impressive standard. You are invited so drop in on a series of encounters with a variety of ghostly characters. From looking at the title, you might be think that you’re having a therapy session using ghosts – but you’d be wrong. The therapy session is FOR ghosts, and we find this out in the first minutes when an unusually white clad Dr. Soul apologises for the dodgy lights – her technician only died last week.

Much of the play works as a series of character comedy skits of various ghosts. The fictional universe seems to encompass all fictional ghosts. One client desperately wants to be liked by the family who lives in her house, and has been taking inspiration from Caspar the Friendly Ghost. In fact, she’s Caspar’s number on fan and has the T-shirt to prove it – sadly, she is also even more annoying than Caspar ever was. The Ghost of Christmas Past is also a client – he’s having trouble with his wife because he just can’t help bringing up the past. The grim reaper also has a stroppy goth daughter who has no real interest in following her father’s footsteps, instead doing a funny routine of helping herself to all the ghost cookies she obviously has no room to eat.

There is some room for improvement. Dr. Soul herself has her own issues – her fear of chickens and her controlling relationship with her aforementioned recently-deceased assistant. However, these don’t really get developed until the end of the story. The pace seems to fall a little flat between the visit of clients, so perhaps this could be used as an opportunity to build up her controlling behaviour and/or chikenophobia. However, Trenetta Jones is excellent as Dr. Soul and really makes the character her own.

What is interesting about this is that this went into the Edinburgh Fringe too late to make it into the paper programme. That can be the kiss of death for getting an audience. Writer Jaz Skringle, however, seems to have got a decent audience anyway with some good social media marketing. An enjoyable 40 minutes, and whilst there are some things that could be better that is an excellent standard for a fringe debut.

Friday 5th August, 3.00 p.m.:

My full list of picks

 

So, a pleasing start to my Edfringe viewing, but I clean forgot – it’s day 1 and I haven’t listed my picks. Most of these are now written up on myWhat’s worth watching: Edinburgh Fringe 2022 page, and I will be writing up the rest shortly. In the meantime, here’s the full list. Bold are running in weeks 0-1; italics are coming later:

Safe choice:

The Ballad of Mulan
Call Mr. Robeson
Green Knight
Gulliver
Mustard
No-One
Nyctophilia
Skank
Watson: the Final Problem

Bold choice:

The Bush
Jekyll & Hyde: A One-Woman Show
Make-Up
Trainspotting Live
Vermin

You Might Like:

Charlotte Johnson: My Dad and Other Lies
The Glummer Twins: The Beat Goes On
The Grandmothers Grimm
Head Girl
The Importance of Being … Earnest?
Room – A Room of one’s own
Shelton on Sinatra

Wildcard:

Famous Puppet Death Scenes
52 Souls
Ghislaine/Gabler
1972: The Future of Sex

From the Comedy:

Aidan Goatley: Tenacious
Alasdair Beckett-King: Nevermore
Biscuit Barrel
Crime Scene Improvisation
Eleanor Morton has peaked
How to Live a Jellicle Life
John Robertson: The Dark Room
Michael Spicer: The Room Next Door
Nathan Cassidy: Observational
Late Night Dirty Scrabble with Rob Rouse
Notflix: Binge
Rosie Holt: The Woman’s Hour
Shit-Faced Showtime
Yasmine Day: Songs in the Key of Me

And one from the online programme:

The Little Glass Slipper performed by the Queen of France and her friends

So quite a lot to still write up. But bear with my, I have three more plays and a press launch coming up shortly.

Friday 5th August, 10.00 a.m.:

About the app

A lot to do today. Four press tickets plus a play I’m seeing again. Whilst I have a calm moment, however, let’s talk about the app. Boy, this is a shitstorm.

So, in before times, one way of getting around was to use the Edfringe app with its “Nearby and now” feature. If you are looking for something to do next, the app will show you what’s coming up in what venue, and how far away it is. Experienced fringegoers, as far as I can tell, tend to make less use of this, as they have a pretty good idea of who they want to see, and where they are and how to get there, but if you’re a beginner is a handy tool. This, I suspect, was the first part of the problem, with the people in charge and the people with influence underestimating how much use this tool gets.

However, the factor I overlooked – and I suspect many other people overlooked too – is how valuable this is seen by some performers. I don’t know if there is data to back this up, but there is a perception that a lot of smaller acts get their business from people just turning up having seen on the app they’re on in five minutes. This is especially pronounced if you’re a Free Fringe show registered with the Edinburgh Fringe – there’s a high chance you registered specifically to be on the app. It’s not clear what benefit the rest of their services to for a small act. Whatever the reason, this has provoked a lot of anger.

Edinburgh Fringe says that although there wasn’t the money to develop an app, there is a “nearby now” feature on the website that does the same thing. That would have been good solution, delivering the benefit without the expense of a separate app platform. There’s just one problem: it doesn’t work. On my laptop it says there’s no matches; on my mobile I can’t even find the option. The one thing I will say in the festival fringe society’s defence is that they’ve made the same mistake almost everyone makes: they got someone to make the website and assumed it would just work. Take it from me: web developers are not to be trusted when you hand them the money and they say it’s all going to work fine. They either run the website in a demo environment without the complication of running in the real world, or they watch things go wrong and just assume it won’t happen in live. Get some people to test in properly, people who understand what’s liable to go wrong and find the problems before it goes to give, people who understand that what’s intuitive to a web designer isn’t always intuitive in the real world. This is not the first time we’ve had problems with the Edfringe website, but the festival fringe society really needs to wise up to this and get some proper testers in. Guys, I’ll volunteer for this.

The other point is that the Festival Fringe society never said there would be an app – it was something everyone assumed would be there. I take Edinburgh Fringe’s point that they’re struggling for cash and most of the bailout money has gone into clearing expenses after the disaster of 2020. However, this is a prime example of where management of expectations would have gone a long way. I will talk more about that later. This is also possible related to the hot take I have coming. But if you want to know what they hot take is, you’re going to have to wait.

Friday 5th August, 12.00 a.m.:

A regrettable announcement

And I leave you with the breaking news. I regret to inform you that tonight I was a guest of Dirty Scrabble. Here I am trying to make a name for myself as a writer and performer of serious theatre, and my first appearance on an Edinburgh Fringe stage is on the back of my immature toilet humour.

Anyway, night night. The serious business starts tomorrow.

Thursday 4th August, 9.30 p.m.:

Good evening.

 

Thursday 4th August, 8.00 p.m. – Nyctophilia:

From Buxton, a play set in the dark

All right, that’s enough promotion of my own venue, it’s back to impartial honest theatre journalism. I just need to change out of my venue manager trousers into my theatre blogger trousers. Would you mind turning round a moment? And no peeping … Right, where were we?

Yes, I have a review for you already. No, I haven’t seen anything at Edinburgh yet, but I have yet to publish my reviews of Buxton Fringe where, as some of you are aware, I was there for quite a long time. Since a couple were on their way to Buxton, I should cover them now. Nyctophilia is in my list of safe choices which is a giveaway that I liked it. Now I can go into a bit more detail.

The unique selling point of this play was performing the entire play in the dark. The challenge for all plays with a wild idea is what you make out of it? Can you achieve a good execution of an eye-catching idea, or does it simply come across as novelty that fizzles out after five minute. More specifically, there’s a challenge here of what the point of this is? Why go through all of the trouble of a pitch black stage? Why not just do radio play?

Haywire Theatre’s answer is to use the darkness to support the story. This is a series of shorts, all of which are set in the darkness on the same hillside, with individual stories separated by decades or centuries. One moment it’s a couple out on a hillside looking for either a lost mobile phone or a first kiss; a woman says goodbye to her fiance signing up to fight in the trenches; later a medieval mother giving birth seeks the help of a stranger in a life-or-death situation. Sometimes the stories are naturalistic, sometimes they are tinged with the supernatural.

Now for the surprise observation. Although the performance was billed as being in pitch black, they still act out the scenes on stage, and I could just about make out what was happening. I gather there were some nerves over whether this was spoiling the play – should they reinforce the darkness with blindfolds? Actually, I thought it was quite effective as it was – just enough visibility to give an idea of what’s happening, but only just, with the partial ambiguity doing its job. There are moments in the play when there’s a brief moment of light, be it a found phone or the sunrise at the end. Apparently that was put in at the last moment to break up the continuous dark, but I though this was one of the best touches. Potentially more could be made of this – I could see a shock moment when something is lit up that you weren’t expecting to see.

If there’s one thing I would ask, I wish the play would make up its mind whether or not these stories are supposed to be interlinked. I’m personally leaning towards yes – the introduction of a faerie spirit sets the scene rather well for all these tales having some sort of link to the faerie folk who inhabit this spot. Other than that, I can recommend this – a good concept executed well. The Buxton dates have come and gone, but the Edinburgh dates have just begun. On tomorrow and Saturday, then Tuesday to Saturday next week, all at Greenside Infirmary street, at the fitting time of 10.10 p.m.

Thursday 4th August, 6.00 p.m.:

Durham Fringe, and what’s coming from there

All right you lot. Here I come. Sitting in Durham station, boarding the next train shortly.

Before I do that, a break from my theatre reviewer capacity to switch to my venue manager capacity. Last week it was Durham Fringe, and the timing is no coincidence – it was specifically scehduled to be the week before week zero of Edinburgh, in the hope that groups going to Edinburgh might use Durham as a final stop in preparation for the big one. That seems to be working, because a good number of the plays on at Durham are indeed on their way to Edinburgh.

Obviously, I can’t give my usual commentary of pros and cons of a festival I am actively working to make a success. What I think I can say, without falling foul of conflict of interest rules, is that the mood surrounding Durham Fringe has been very upbeat. Clearly a good job’s been done making the fringe visible in the city centre, and anecdotally they managed to get a fair amount of audience coming to shows off the street. I even hear a pair of people sitting behind me in the pub discussing that they’d just found about it, and what they should see. I realise this is doubling up as a sales pitch, but I’m genuinely hopeful for the outlook next year. [I may even have put in the groundwork for something very exciting in 2023, but I’m keeping quiet about this until and if it happens.]

Anyway, there are six acts I was looking after in the City Theatre who have come to Edinburgh. I’m leaving them out of recommendations and reviews as I have a different responsibility towards these acts. But I will give a quick mention of what I had the pleasure to preview:

Experiment Human: The clear winner for the weirdest and craziest show, sisters Rosa and Maya from Hooky Productions have kidnapped a mystery celebrity to study what is it like to be human. Laughing Horse Dragonfly, 5.45 p.m., Laughing Horse Dragonfly, thought fringe except Monday.

Battle Cry: Then it’s stright to the other end of the scale, with a superb performance from Steven Cowley as a veteran who’s seen one too many bad things on the battlefield to cope with a return to civvie life. The Merlin, 8.45, 11th-17th, 20th-28th. (This one is with PBH Free Fringe but not Edinburgh Fringe itself.)

Cottage: A promising script from a student production set in the days when homosexuality in public toilets carried severe consequences – I also really liked the performance of a character who appears and the end, which I won’t mention as that’s a spoiler. 22nd-27th August, 10.10 p.m. Greenside Infirmary Street.

Delivery: Another student play, not so much about the pizza delivery business but the loneliness of the various people who get these takeaways. 5th-13th August (not Sun), Greenside Nicholson Square, 11.40 a.m.

The Single Lady: Four-hander musical about Elizabeth I and her doomed relationship to the probably loverat the Earl of Leicester, somewhat in the style of Hamilton. Really liked the musical score to this. 5th-13th August, The Space on North Bridge, 2.05 p.m.

Sascha LO and friends: And the City Theatre closed with this comedian. She is on with new support acts at Just the Tonic at the Mash House throughout the fringe (not 15th).

Plug over. Back to impartial commentary now.

Wednesday 3rd August:

A summary of the things we’re arguing over

Although Edinburgh fringe doesn’t officially start until Friday, performances start in earnest today, with many full-length runs looking on today and tomorrow as preview days.

Anyway, I am arriving tomorrow, so before things get too frantic, now is a good time to summarise what everybody’s arguing over. There have been broadly five different things I’ve heard talk about. Two of them are unfair, as they are things that are not really within the Fringe’s control.

Accommodation costs: It does seem that some landlord who buy up properties specifically to charge through the nose in August are chasing their losses by charging through the this year. Anecdotally I have heard a lot of complaints from people who have chosen not to go, or shortened runs, or commuted from other Scottish cities. Unfortunately, the latter option is being compounded by …

Rail strikes: There are a couple of rail strikes being scheduled in week two on the fringe. Might stop people going to the fringe, also might make it difficult for those commuting into Edinburgh from outside. Have to say, though, I really don’t see why this is being raised with the Festival Fringe society. It’s not like their influence extends to Grant Shapps or Mick Lynch.

One issue was raised earlier but has since gone quiet:

Working conditions: At the start of the year, there were concerns that C Venues – pilloried in 2018-2019 for alleged poor conditions for volunteers – were up to their bad old tricks. The Festival Fringe Society responded with an action plan that stated, amongst other things, than anyone breaking the law would be kicked out. I am sceptical this is going to be enough, but so far this has been enough to keep complaints quiet.

The final two, though, were areas inside the Festival Fringe Society[‘s control and where, in my opinion, they made the wrong call.

Fringe app: There is no fringe app this year – and, to be fair, they never said there would be an app this year. Nevertheless, this has upset a lot of people, particularly smaller acts who count on the “nearby now” feature to get business. Apparently there is a “nearby now” feature that can be used on the website instead – I will check this out in due course.

Media presence: There were complaints over Edinburgh Fringe not doing enough to get a media presence. However, when they said who they were brining, that caused even more upset: support heavily focused on national newspapers, with little support for fringe-specific publications – hence the protest from Broadway Baby yesterday.

Personally, I think the Festival Fringe Society has made two fundamental mistakes. One is a failure to manage expectations – had they been clearer over what they could and can’t deliver this year sooner, I think there would have been fewer arguments. The other mistake … well, that’s a bit more of a hot take. Don’t go away, I will be expanding on both of these later.

However, Underbelly made a good point at their launch event today. Do we want the next three and a half weeks to be about the organisation of the festival, or the multitude of the acts who have come to perform. They suggest the latter. And I intend to keep my focus on that too.

Tuesday 2nd August:

Broadway Baby pulls out of Meet the Media

And what do you know? The shit has hit the fan already. One of the many rows taking place at the moment is over support for Edinburgh Fringe media. The short version is that the small fringe-specific publications are upset that support has been given to the bigger publications, and now Broadway Baby has pulled out of Meet the Media in protest. But I’m going to have to come back to this later.

Right now, I need to give some housekeeping information about how reviews work. There is a long-standing rule that I review plays I see at fringes whether or not I was on a press ticket, but I give priority to review requests. This time, it looks like I am going to be going almost entirely on press tickets. My first visit to Edinburgh will be the 5th – 7th August (that’s this Friday to Sunday), so if you’re only running in week 1 the the fringe and you want a review off me, you’d better get a move on. Contact me if that’s what you want to do. I will probably start scheduling reviews tonight.

Now, to cover an oft-discussed question: what should you put in a press release. For me, to be honest, it makes very little difference. I’m not the only person who does this, but my first port of call for deciding what I want to see is to scan through all thousand theatre entries in the fringe programme. All I really pick up from a press release is the fact that I’m being offered a press ticket. Next, at both Edinburgh and Brighton I usually discard stand-up comedy, dance and and classic theatre – I don’t where to start reviewing those. After that, what I see broadly comes down to scheduling – quite simply, who is on at the right time. And that comes down to luck more than anything. I might have a better look at press releases if it comes down to one or the other at a particular time, but it’s rare to come down to that sort of tie-breaker.

Where I do look at press releases, I tend to be interested in whether I have something useful to offer. I’m happy to review a new play that turns out to be below average if I am in a position to say something constructive. However, quite often I see press releases for plays with huge amounts of pre-existing public acclaim on things I know I’m unlikely to enjoy – a frequent offender at the moment is plays whose number one selling point is to spoon-feed their target audience’s pre-existing opinions back to them. They know what audience they want, they may even get praise from reviewers amongst their target audience – what do I have to offer?

What counts in your favour is I think you want a review off me, as opposed to just a review. I get it, for many people an Edinburgh Fringe run comes to nothing if you get no reviews, so it’s a scattergun tactic asking every reviewer and his dog. And I’m happy to be part of this. But it’s even better when people specifically value what I have to say. I notice some people put something in their press release to show you’ve read my blog – that’s fine, my fragile ego is easy to message. However, the people who stick in my mind the most are the people who are determined to get me to review them, who ask at previous festivals, and if I can’t make it then, ask again at the next one.

Anyway, hope that helps. If all goes to plan, first press ticket requests will be going out tonight.

Monday 1st August:

Welcome to a wild ride

Welcome to my coverage of Edinburgh Fringe 2022. Edinburgh Fringe does not officially begin until Friday, but this is known as week zero. Plenty of acts have already travelled to Edinburgh, and from Wednesday we will have a good number of preview performances going on. So the build-up begins now.

This time last year, Edinburgh Fringe was in survival mode. There were even worries that the Scottish Government’s strange decision to single out performing arts for prohibitive Covid restrictions might push this fringe into terminal decline. In the end, however, the tiny fringe cobbled together at the last moment was a big success. Buoyed with confident with show after show close to selling out, 2022 was envisaged as the relaunch. And with Edinburgh Fringe 2022 around 80% the size of 2019, it’s the big welcome back party, right?

Perhaps not. If 2021 was the big party, 2022 is the big hangover. The journey back to business as usual has been far from smooth. Expect to hear a lot in the new few weeks over the absence of the Edinburgh Fringe app, but that’s really a symptom of some much deeper problems. Don’t expect any easy solutions to come in the next few weeks, because there aren’t any. You can, however, expect a lot of recriminations and blame games. I will be going over some of the higher-profile controversies later, and considering them individually on their merits, but expect things to get very very messy.

Hold on tight folks. This is going to be a wild ride.

Brighton Fringe 2022 – at it happens

Thursday 9th June:

And we leave you with the news that Edinburgh Fringe has announced its numbers for this year: it’s 3,131 registrations.

That would put this at 82% the size of the 2019 peak of 3,841 registrations and be more comparable to 2014’s size of 3,193. But but but but but but but but but but but but … as we have been hearing from several anecdotal sources, a lot of people appear to be opting for runs over part of the fringe. Treat anecdotes with caution though: we have heard this before and it turned out to be wrong. What we really need is the number of performances. I don’t easily have a number available for 2019, but in 2014 it was 49,497. As soon as I have a number for you, I will let you know.

The news coming out on the same day, however, is the publication of a strategy for reform. There’s no sign of wavering on open access (quite rightly), but there’s a lot of interesting initiative to address the criticisms. We are winding up Brighton Fringe coverage here so I will go into details another day, but the notable one: they seem to be pulling their finger out on venues with poor employment practices. It surely cannot have escaped their attention that Brighton Fringe took action against their worst offender (albeit with help from the local council, apparently).

But that’s for another post. Thank you for everyone who’s been following this, and especially thank you to everyone who invited me for review and putting an an exceptional standard. Whatever challenges continue at Brighton, let’s hope that this is something that sticks.

Goodbye, and thanks for following me over the month.

Wednesday 8th June:

So that’s a wrap from Brighton Fringe. A recap on how it went:

• Sadly, the news that dominated Brighton Fringe was the implosion of The Warren. It was impossible to get away from this. I have never heard so much anger expressed over one venue. I am not done writing about The Warren; now that I have reviews out of the way I intend to embark on some more extensive fact-checking. In the meantime, I think I can say the situation is sufficiently serious to throw into doubt a return for The Warren next year, or even ever.
• In fact, pretty much everything notable about Brighton Fringe 2022 is related directly or indirectly to The Warren’s woes. The most obvious one is that without the biggest venue, there was no chance of recovering to the size of 2016-2019. As far whether Brighton Fringe can recover without The Warren, or whether it should do – well, that’s a debate that will be rumbling on for some time yet.
• The most notable effect is that after years or moving towards a cluster of venues in central Brighton, we have suddenly reverted to a fringe spread all over the city. This is partly down to the disappearance of The Warren, but also down to relocations of Sweet Venues and Junkyard Dogs to Hove and Kemptown respectively (for unrelated reasons, the timing being a pure coincidence). Sweet and Junkyard are both hedging their bets on building up hyper-local followings in their respective neighbourhoods and seem quite optimistic about how it’s going so far. The down-side is that you can no longer count on hopping from one venue to another in 20 minutes.
• There are mixed reports on how ticket sales went. It certainly wasn’t a repeat of 2021 when punters came back in greater numbers than anyone was expecting. The one consistent observation is that Friday-Sunday is doing much better business than Monday-Wednesday. Overall, ticket sales appear to be comparable with 2015 levels, which for a fringe of roughly 2015 size looks sustainable.
• The fringe programme too has gravitated back to a weekend-centric format, with little or no performances on offer before 6 p.m. on weekdays. The cause of this isn’t particularly dramatic, however – it’s a lot more to do with how the venues taking part this year happened to be programming their events anyway. The only notable change is that venues are pulling back from Monday performances, with many of them opting for a rest day (and subsequent audience numbers suggesting this was a good call).
• There has been various concerns raised about Brighton Fringe 2022 not being that visible. Perhaps Brighton Fringe was over-reliant on the big pop-ups from Warren and Spiegeltent to give the message the fringe is on – and without The Warren, fewer people got the message. Perhaps Brighton needs to take lessons from Buxton, who doesn’t leave it to the venues and goes to town to show it’s fringe time.
• The Daily Diary that was supposed to replace the traditional paper programme has had a mixed response. Not everyone is subscribing to the idea that you can look up what’s on at a certain time then move to the internet to see what it is (although it’s definitely an improvement on trying to work out what’s on when using the website). With Edinburgh and Buxton reverting to paper programmes the future of this initiative looks in doubt – if they are the stick with it, at the very least they need better integration of booklet to website via QR code.
• The big winner of Brighton Fringe 2022 has to be The Rotunda. Originally intending to come to Brighton with the pop-up dome they already had for three weeks, they huge amount of demand from performers caused them to scale up to two pop-up domes over four weeks, bringing forward their plans for a second space. And their programme has been just as prominent as the more long-standing counterparts such as Sweet, Spiegeltent and Rialto. If The Warren really is gone for good, the vacated spot in Victoria Gardens must be tempting – although they are understandably steering clear of trying to be too much like The Warren.
• And finally, the good news: it really does look like the standard of this year’s Brighton Fringe has been exceptional. Yes, there has been a lot of good will ever since the pandemic, but even taking this into account there seems to have been an unusually high standard. I’ve seen far more glowing reviews than usual, and where I have seen these plays myself, I can vouch these reviews were earned. And for why there’s been such a high standard – that’s anyone’s guess. Brighton Fringe might be struggling with quantity, but it’s certainly succeeding on quality.

Tuesday 7th June:

And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. Who is pick of the fringe?

Couple of disclaimers before I do this. Firstly, an obvious reminder that this is not a list of the top plays at the Brighton Fringe – I can only base it on what I saw. I do not actively seek out the plays I believe to be the best, with reasons for choosing plays ranging from review requests to simply what was on at the right time, right place. It’s best to think of this as a cross-section of plays out there that I rate. Secondly, and this uniquely applies to this fringe: I’m going to have to be VERY choosy. The standard of what I’ve seen at this Brighton Fringe has been truly exceptional, and were I not to raise the bar the list would be ridiculously long. So some of the plays in the honourable mention list would have made it to pick of the fringe in an earlier year.

So here we are. Don’t get too excited about being top of a list, it’s sorted merely by the order I saw them. We have:

Pick of the fringe:

0.0031% Plastic and chicken bones (Ike Award)
The Formidable Lizzie Boone
Vermin
The Huns
Moral Panic
Underdogs
The Time Machine (Ike Award)
No One
The Ballad of Mulan

Honourable mention:

The Unforgettable Anna May Wong
Yasmine Day: Songs in the key of me
Mala Sororibus
Sex, Lies and Improvisation
Labyrinth
The Last
A Pole Tragedy
Fragile

Special Honourable Mention:

Room (for inventing a new genre)

And, as you may have noticed, I’ve given a second one of these.

0.0031% Plastic and chicken bones was borderline, so I decided to wait and deliberate on this, but in the end, it earns it for the same reason as a time machine: everything delivered well apart from one thing that was superb, in this case the delivery of the story that slowly reveals a future that’s not utopian as it looks.

All of these review will be collated into my Brighton Fringe roundup in due course (I’m actually going to try to do it this month rather than my usual embarrassing delay until November). Thanks again to everyone for showing me what you can do. This is not a stock platitude: this genuinely was an exceptional fringe.

Monday 6th June:

Looking ahead to Durham Fringe and good news from the Vault Festival

That’s the end of both Brighton Fringe and my reviews, but we’re not quite done with the coverage yet. We are staying with this until Thursday for the final tally of Edinburgh Fringe, which will have a lot of bearing on Edinburgh and Brighton’s relationship to each other. In the meantime, let’s take another look at what’s still to come. We’ve already looked at Buxton and Greater Manchester Fringes, what else is coming up.

Durham Fringe is certainly one to watch. As I am running a venue in that one you won’t find me doing my usual coverage of hot takes galore – I have a different responsibility to promote this festival. We don’t quite have a final announcement of the programme, but I understand we’re looking at 60-70 registrations, around double last year. What I’m not sure about is how many of these acts are indeed calling at Durham Fringe on the way to Edinburgh Fringe. That was, after all, the reason for doing this the week before Edinburgh begins. There again, last year when there was hardly any Edinburgh Fringe go to, Durham Fringe ran perfectly well with almost entirely non-touring local acts. I’ll get back to you when Edinburgh Fringe coverage starts when I know how that went.

Looking further ahead, today’s breaking news from the Vault Festival is that they have announced a date for opening of applications, on roughly a normal timescale. That is probably a cause for relief. As I reported back in January when Vault 2022 was cancelled at the last moment, this was dangerous from a financial perspective, having done almost all of the outlay for no income – and the precedent from Brighton is that without a bailout, it might not be possible to put on a festival the following year. However, somehow they have defied that precedent. Maybe they have robust cancellation insurance, maybe a low-key appeal for donations did the job, or maybe their Vault Festival has deeper pockets that we know about, but it looks okay. I hope they’re not doing anything stupid with their accounts like The Warren appears to have done in Brighton.

And finally, changing the subject, I got a vote for the Offies. Underdogs won, and Vermin and No One were amongst the finalists, all of which were obviously strong contenders. But who is in my pick of the fringe? I announce this tomorrow.

Sunday 5th June – The Time Machine:

An excellent play to round off reviews

And now, on the last day of the fringe, it’s the moment you’ve been waiting for. And it’s been a wait for five years. Brighton Fringe almost got one of these in 2019 with Be More Martyn, but I saw that after Brighton Fringe and not during it so it may not quite count. This time, however, I have seen it in the right location in the right month. For the first time since Between You and Me in 2017, here it is:

To earn my equivalent of five stars, you don’t need full marks across every category, but you can get this through a good across-the-board performance in all other areas – and one aspected of the play that is brilliantly original and brilliantly executed. And for The Keeper’s Daughter, the thing that earns my highest accolade is, quite fittingly, the time machine. Steampunk fans will be please to know that the machine on stage is everything you expect from the style of H. G. Wells, Jules Verne and more, and whilst it doesn’t literally travel through time, it comes a close second. The machine provides all of the sound and lighting throughout the performance, operated by Mark Finbow who plays our intrepid inventor at the same time.

But the technical wizardry doesn’t come straight away. We first of all see our Dickensian Doctor Who busy recharging his contraption. Having previously neglected to check where and when he is, he discovers to his unpleasant surprise it’s 2022, and he’d rather be on his way if you don’t mind. But with another 55 minutes before he’s ready to go, he chooses to tell a story of an afternoon trip he once took eight hundred thousand years into the future to work up an appetite for the delicious lamb dinner he was due to have with his gentlemen friends that evening.

This story is a little simplified from the original H G Wells story, but is still very faithful: the intrepid traveller discovering that in the future, humankind have split into two species, with one peaceful and benign, the other malevolent and exploitative. In fact, the only notable change to the story is the reframing of the story-in-a-story format, originally told at the aforementioned dinner party, now told to the strangers met in a century the real author never got to see. But it’s when the time travelling starts that the performance really comes into its own. There is a lot of technical wizardry required to set up the light and music and sound and smoke (I caught a glimpse of the laptop that controls all of this but I’ll overlook that), but that’s only half the task. The hard bit is integrating this with the action being performed on stage. As anyone who has tried leaving and technical sequence running on stage knows, there are no room for mistakes here. Go out of sync once and the whole thing falls apart. This is executed flawlessly, combining spoken word, physical theatre and puppetry for our hero’s futuristic companion Weena all playing great parts in this performance.

As for how we wind this up – well, I don’t normally give away what happens in the final third of the play, but this end of this one is too good to ignore. Like Plastic and Chicken Bones, where there’s a traveller who’s seen the future, there a chance to tell something to people in the past. And this time, pardon the paraphrasing, it’s simply that’s it’s hard for one person to change the future, but maybe all of us can. And that’s a perfect round-off to a near-perfect production. Sadly the last performance was today, and there’s no other performances announced, but surely after the overwhelming acclaim this play is getting there will be more. What’s more, since it brings along its own tech, it doesn’t even need to be done in a theatre. Keep an eye out; this could be coming to a place near you, and it may be nearer than you think.

Saturday 4th June – Labyrinth:

In the style of the Greek tragedies

I’ve been slow to review this one because, to be honest, I’m not sure what to do with it. To explain the issue here, this is a play where you really need to know in advance what the play is about. That might seem like a stupid question – surely anyone who decides to see any play reads the publicity blurb first? If you are a reviewer or a hardcore fringer, however, it doesn’t always work like that. When you have half a dozen shows to schedule, any background reading that fed into choose what to watch can be forgotten. All I can be sure of knowing about a play I’m reviewing is the title, time and place.

“Today I killed a man” are Marta Carvalho’s fist words as she enters the stage, before embarking on an hour-long monologue in the style of a Greek Tragedy. She killed him, she says, without remorse, without pity. Already I’m thinking of which figure from Greek mythology she is representing. The obvious murderess that springs to mind is Medea, who was noted for her guilt-free killing spree. Then, I got a bit lost as to what the story was meant to be. It was only when I re-read the press release later that I realised this was supposed to be something different: a woman driven to kill a man she was in a toxic relationship with. (This contrasts with Medea; whilst Jason wasn’t exactly a model husband, she was an obvious psychopath long before he came along.) I fear I have missed something important from not knowing this important bit of background info.

Normally, I am quite harsh about plays I don’t follow. It is my long-standing position that it is the responsibility of the performers to make sure their plays are accessible to their intended audiences – and I especially have no time for people who blame their audiences for not thinking about the play deeply enough. But is it really fair to mark a play down in this situation? Most people who saw this play would have known the basics of what the play is supposed to be about; it is really only a subset of reviewers and the most hardcore of fringegoers who go into a play completely cold. That said, I do think it pays to not assume background knowledge for a play if you can avoid it. Prose in the style of a Greek tragedy isn’t the most accessible of language, but perhaps more emphasis on the abusive relationship at the start of the monologue (which is currently packed with the triumphalism) might have helped anyone on an early wrong track.

The presentation of the monologue was good though. Marta Carvalho’s delivery and conviction did the job, and the way it was staged was also fitting for the setting. Had scheduling not made this impossible, I would have watched this again to see if I picked up more the second time round. I don’t think there’s much more I can say about this. Ultimately, it comes down to what this play is meant to achieve. If it’s aimed at fans of classic literature who are familiar with the style of Greek tragedies, maybe there isn’t much more that needs to be done – after all, we rarely expect Shakespeare to be more accessible because you don’t know the plot to Romeo and Juliet. If it is supposed to be accessible to someone watching this cold – well, that’s where the hard work begins. Your call. Good luck either way.

Friday 3rd June:

Coming up in the final weekend

We’re into the final weekend. My big recommendation for this is The Time Machine. Review for this one is coming, but the short version I can give to you is that the Time Machine you see on stage is not just the chief prop/set – it also controls all the technical wizardry you see on stage, all coming from the machine itself.It is also a impressive showcase of one actor also operating all the tech himself. Two final performances coming tomorrow and Sunday at 4.30 p.m., the Rotunda.

And I was going to highlight the return of The Event but the last weekend’s performances have been cancelled. Ah well. See The Time Machine instead, same venue.

Thursday 2nd June:

News from Buxton and Greater Manchester fringe

Two reviews to go. Please bear with me. But cycling over the hills on Lincolnshire (yes, believe it or not, it does have hills if you know where to look for them) knocks the stuffing out of me. Until then, let’s have a look at the upcoming fringes and see where we are. Much focus is on who, if any, can get back to pre-Covid numbers. Brighton might have achieved it were it not for The Warren’s implosion, but how are other fringes doing.

Buxton Fringe seems to be nearly there. They are reporting 169 registrations in time for their programme deadline. Unlike Brighton, Buxton’s numbers have held steadily over the last decade, increasing slightly in 2017 when Underground Venues moved to the higher-capacity Old Clubhouse and The Rotunda started in Buxton. (There was also another increase in 2019, but that 40th anniversary fringe ran for an extra three days and isn’t quite a reliable comparison.) One small but annoying setback is that The Rotunda is only going to be around for part of Buxton Fringe this time – Wells Festival, running during the early part of Buxton Fringe, has proved too lucrative to ignore.

In the long term, the addition of a new smaller Rotunda space is an opportunity for Buxton Fringe. One thing Buxton’s never really recovered from is the loss of Pauper’s Pit and the Barrel Room, two excellent spaces for entry-level acts. The “squeak” dome we’ve seen at Brighton could do that job well. There’s a small question of where this could do – you probably could find space in the Pavilion Gardens but it might require some lateral thinking. But that’s jumping ahead. In spite of the absence of The Rotunda for half a Fringe, Buxton is probably the first to be able to say it’s back to normal.

Greater Manchester Fringe, however, is a bit more mysterious. In 2019, there was the prospect that this fringe might overtake Buxton, although with this fringe coverage an entire City Region the numbers weren’t directly comparable. At the time of writing, however, I count 61 registrations for Greater Manchester Fringe 2022. Unlike Buxton, there doesn’t appear to be any deadline here, and with most of GM Fringe taking place in year-round venues, I wonder if many acts are waiting until the last moment to register, and only when they’re certain. Or it might be that no-one can live up to former fringe boss Zena Barrie.

I’ll wait and see what happens this month before making any firm judgements. Tentatively, however, it looks like Buxton Fringe’s place and 3rd biggest fringe in the UK is safe.

Also, woo woo way the Queen woo yay. More fringe update tomorrow.

Wednesday 1st June – The Ballad of Mulan:

Review of Michelle Yim’s latest play

Another one of Michelle Yim’s plays now, that conveniently fit into a gap in the schedule. Her last two plays were about little-remembered East Asian women from the first half of the last century. Most people, however, have heard of Hua Mulan, if only through the Disney film. Michaelle Yim is determined to give an undisneyfied version of the legand.

Out of the three plays of hers I’ve seen, this one I think is the strongest by a convincing margin. This shouldn’t be too surprising: biopics of real historical are difficult to keep interesting without sacrificing accuracy, but the legend of Mulan has endured for a millennium and a half. Most historians now think it’s more likely she was the product of a storyteller’s imagination rather than a real character, but if that’s the same, it’s a storyteller who did the job well. The tale of a woman who took her father’s place in the army and rose to the rank of general over ten years certain stood the test of time.

Ross Ericson’s script, however, doesn’t so much follow the styles of Chinese Mythology. If anything, it’s got a lot more in common with the tales of World War One. There is no blow-by-blow account of Mulan’s rise through the ranks in her meteoric career; merely the events leading up to her first battle. On the one hand, we hear of how Mulan’s tomboy ways as a child would make her exactly the sort of woman who’s fall in the the man signing up for war. But the stronger part of the story is signing up to the army. There are plenty of fresh-faced conscripts excited to see something of the world and naive to the horrors that lie ahead; there’s also veterans from earlier campaigns, less eager to go through this again but kept going by the camaraderie of old friends from wars gone by.

Perhaps the winning formula here is Ross Ericson playing to his all-time number one strength. The Unknown Soldier was deservedly praised for its depiction of The Great War, encompassing both the catastrophe of war and the enduring human spirit. If the plan was to apply the same touches to another war, it’s worked well here. Mission accomplished here, because this is indeed her version Disney couldn’t do even they wanted to – however they approach things, they can never fully escape their expectations of being twee. Good choice of story from Grist to the Mill, and good job done.

Tuesday 31st May – Fragile:

Review of Fragile

For my north-east followers, one bit of important news for today (if you somehow missed this): we will find out this evening if County Durham has been named City of Culture 2025. That will be a big deal if they pull it off. More about this when we know either way.

Now, on to the next reviews. This one did very well at Brighton Fringe last year and it’s back for an encore. Agustina Dieguez Buccella has had a moment of triumph. She has single-handedly made it to the end of a trail. How’s that for everyone who said she couldn’t do this? Admittedly, the guy at the tourist information who she said was talking him down did make some fair points. For example, the trail is closed in the summer for a reason. Never mind, what does “closed” mean anyway? You can’t just fence off a long-distance path in the mountains – that just means there’s no organised tours. And who is this geezer at the tourist information office to say it’s not safe for a woman to do this on her own? That’s how she’s done everything before.

And that’s the point of this play. This isn’t an high-octave daredevil adventure on woman versus nature – it’s the parallels with the rest of her life. In the next scene, things aren’t going so well. She lets on that even in less dangerous globe-trotting adventures flitting from city to city, she always does that alone. And not just travelling alone – the people she meets along the way never become more than acquaintances. That, she admits, is the barrier she put up. And that’s the barrier she puts up in the rest of her life too. The advantage of being a strong independent woman is that no-one gets close enough to you to be able to hurt you. Unfortunately, things don’t always work out that way, and the more we learn of this, the more it seems Agustina latest solo adventure is her doubling down on doing things the way she always has.

This story is open based very heavily on personal experience. This is an approach I’ve seen done a lot and frequently backfires; all too often it’s twenty-somethings whose life experience hasn’t stretched beyond house-sharing and drama school romances – and still mistake it as something as unique and profound to share with he world. Buccella’s piece, however, succeed by doing the opposite. Rather than trying to be different and special, her experience of shuttering off emotions is something relatable and, from what I can gather, resonating with a lot of people.

The only thing that I thought slightly missed the mark was not making the most of the parallels between her way of doing a mountain adventure and her life in general. After such a promising build-up the mountain journey fades from prominence as the focus grows more and more on life decision in general. The reason I think this was sold short is that in Buccella’s real story, she was rescued from the mountain. That, to me, seemed like a perfect thing to leave in the story: as well as the added tension of how this story is going to end, this could have provided the perfect parallel ending on getting help on the mountain, and getting help in general. However, the play stands up without this because the story of her life is strong enough to carry it alone. One more performance of this on Thursday at 8.15, Laughing Horse at the Walrus. Worth catching, as this may be your last chance.

Monday 30th May:

Coming up in week 4

And we’re into the fourth and final week, so for the penultimate time, a look at what’s coming up. And it’s a short list this time. The main new starter is Aidan Goatley, whose wholesome stand-up coemdy I caught last year. His new show Tenacious started tonight and runs until Friday at Sweet @ The Poets at various times.

For the shows I’ve seen already, we’ve got a final performance of Vermin tonight at 9.30, which is any moment now, but better late than never, maybe. Fragile makes its last appearance this fringe on Thursday at 8.15 p.m. I have a review for this one coming, but in the meantime it’s worth a watch. Both of those are Laughing horse at The Walrus. And from Thursday to Sunday we have the absurdly self-referential The Event at The Rotunda, 6.15 p.m.

This isn’t a bit list, and that’s not entirely a coincidence. After years of week 4 being just another week of Brighton Fringe, this time theatre that isn’t family theatre seems to be winding down in the last week. Certainly The Rialto has chosen to sit out a final week this time round. And, to be fair, this was the original plan when a fourth week was added: something in half term to make use of daytimes available for family shows – instead, family shows tended to stick to weekends and regular theatre filled up the rest of the week. Now, this might be changing.

We don’t really have any post-Covid data to compare this to. We can’t do a direct comparison with 2021 because due to the postponement, half term was in the first week rather than the last (with the first week being a big relaunch). Will this be one of the last changes of 2022? We’ll have to wait at least a year for an answer, but I’ll be keeping an eye on this.

Sunday 29th May, 9.30 p.m. – Underdogs:

Review of The Foundry Group’s new play

Sorry for allowing things to go quiet. I had planned to do some more reviewing on the train, but for some reason the trains going north out of London were absolutely chocka. Just time time for one more then.

This is on of the Rialto’s headerliners. The Foundry Group has been one of the biggest names of the fringe circuit ever since their hit Big Daddy versus Giant Haystacks. Now Joseph Nixon and Brian Mitchell are collaborating with a difference strange true story. Instead of a public obsession with two men pretending to fight each over every Saturday afternoon in the 1970s, it’s the equally strange obsession over a man who tried – and ultimately succeeded – in taking the (unofficial) world record for longest time being buried alive, seeking to retake the title in memory of his mother, who once held the world record in the 1970s.

That’s not really what the play is about, though. It will surprise no-one to learn that you can’t make a hour-long story of someone shouting “Come on, you can do it! You’re half-way, just lie there for another 72 days!” The theme is in the title, “Underdogs”. Geoff Smith is a slacker with no career, a string of broken relationships and children with two different mothers. Six months underground doesn’t feel that much of a loss when there’s not much else to do. But the more prevalent theme is the everybody being treated as underdogs. This stunt was of course an attention-grabber for the media at the time, but there is always a disdainful theme of the London media types behaving not only like they’re better than that loser with nothing better to do, but that they’re also better than all the other losers in Mansfield with nothing to do. Particular scorn is reserved for the “And Finally …” section of ITV news. And then, inevitably, comes the scummier side of the tabloid press – the moment anyone grabs a bit of flashpan fame, the press rake around their lives looking for anything to make them look bad. It doesn’t matter that it’s 20% truth and 80% conjecture and insinuation – who’s going to fight them in court?

The power dynamics in the team come into play to. The pub landlord who eggs Smith on has at least one eye on the future business prospects of his pub. His wife, on the other hand, wants nothing to with the scheme, but ends up as arguably Geoff’s only proper friend, without a stake in the game herself. I think this play could do with some tightening; 75 minutes is not too different a running time for a fringe, but I felt there were a number of digressions that knocked the momentum out of the story, albeit a story that is by its very nature not supposed to be fast-moving. The reason I said this is that Big Daddy versus Giant Haystack – which does share a lot of virtues with this play – had some similar issues in the early versions. However, this were all ironed out into a great finished product for Edinburgh. So some work to be done, but a good job so far on a concept many would write off as impossible to dramatise.

Sunday 29th May, 12.30 p.m. – No One:

Review of a physical theatre retelling of The Invisible Man

Well, time has beaten us to it again. That’s my second visit to Brighton wrapped up. 20 plays in 7 days spilt into two chunks. I have six outstanding reviews and let”s start with No One.

This is described a “remix” of The Invisible Man rather than an adaptation. Unlike Northern Stage, whose adaptation sought to encompass a wide part for the original story in a modern context, Akimbo Theatre concentrates on on key element of the story*: the relationship between Griffin and Marvel. In the original, Griffin is a scientist and Marvel is a homeless man who is easily manipulated into Griffin’s ally. In this version, far from homeless, Marvel is a successful university student – however, he is still socially introverted and still an easy target. The play begins as Marvel is being interrogated by the Police. A woman called Mia is missing, Marvel is in the frame, and it soon becomes clear that he’s covering for someone.

* : Actually, there is another theme that features. The discussion about whether Griffin can see with his eyes closed is a nod to a real earnest academic discussion on whether the Invisible Man was scientifically possible, believe it or not.

Akimbo Theatre are a physical dance troupe and that plays heavily into the production. An early scene replays CCTV footage where Marvel decks an entire pub in a pub fight. Another scene is where Marvel levitates a five-pound note into Mia’s hand. Both scenes are, of course, not what they seem, and when re-run later feature with Griffin in view The key relationship, however, is that Griffin is behind Marvel’s sudden career as a magician making all sorts of things levitate. Whatever anger Griffin had in Blackpool and whatever he did back there, he’s happy to make this his new project. However, Griffin can’t help getting into quite brutal fights on Marvel’s behalf, and thanks to the mask of social media and telephone, starts an online relationship with Mia who believes him to be Marvel. No chance of a love triangle – let’s just say Mia isn’t Marvel’s type – but we still know this is going to get messy.

I have to say, this blows the socks off Northern Stage’s production. To be fair to Northern Stage, we aren’t quite comparing the same thing there: one was a training exercise for new conventional actors; this is an physical theatre-heavy piece for an ensemble who executes it flawlessly. But ever where we compare like-for-like with the writing, Akimbo does it better. Northern Stage tried to take on a lot of issues and ended up confusing everyone, but Akimbo’s focus on one party of the story and fleshing it out works very well. I’ll give a score draw for the staging though, with both productions producing striking visual effects in their own ways.

That said, there was one bit of Akimbo’s plot that didn’t quite work. Having conveyed the tensions between Marvel and Griffin so well up to the concluding scene, it suddenly got confusing. There’s just been a row that’s broken Mia’s relationship and turned Griffin and Marvel on each other, but now they’re back at home and there’s a party and someone’s come to get Griffin and Mia’s still there? And when the inevitable fight breaks out, everybody seems to take a long time to react to someone being hurt. Something, I fear, has been lifted from the H G Wells story that doesn’t make sense in this new setting. Apart from the slightly muddled last ten minutes, however, this is an brilliantly-executed concept of physical theatre. There is one final performance to 6.00 p.m. today at the Rotunda, so catch it if you can.

Saturday 28th May, 7.45 p.m.:

News of grants to Edinburgh Fringe venues

Just one play to go now, but wow, the standard of what I’ve seen this fringe has been exceptional. It’s possible this has been influenced by the high number of press requests, but there’s also been a high standard of the tickets I bought myself, almost of all of which were chosen as gap-fillers in the schedule and nothing else. And damn, I’ve got a pick of the fringe coming up. I’m going to have to get VERY picky.

When we head into the last week, I will turn attention a bit more to the other fringes coming up. There are notable developments from Buxton, Durham and Edinburgh. In the meantime, I have one bit of news (and it’s fringe a proper Edinburgh Fringe press release – yes, for some reason they trust me to handle that information responsibly). There has been an announcement of funding for the Edinburgh Fringe, which you can read here. Officially it’s for fringe “producers”, but in practice this means venues.

I get the impressions this is part of a wider Scottish Government initiative that straddles post-Covid recovery and generic arts support, although they have co-ordinated things to announce all fringe-related ones together. What’s interesting, though, isn’t the amount being funded but who it’s going to and what they’re promising to deliver. It seems to me that there’s been a lot of discussions with individual venues, and you can read the details here. The end result is the different venues have made different promises on what to deliver.

A common promise amongst lots of venue is promises to give better pay to staff. With working conditions currently one of two big hot potatoes, this is probably welcome news for the Edinburgh Fringe – if the money being granted is enough to make a significant difference in a festival of this size. Big if there. But amongst the individual grants, there’s one thing that leaps out in the details for Zoo. In the Fringe’s words, their programming in 2022 “is aimed at better reflecting the lives of under-represented or minority audiences”. Inclusivity varies from minority to minority, but one thing that never seems to change is that the fringe is a white person thing. I’m sure most people welcome anyone of any skin colour, but perceptions that theatre isn’t for people like you are very hard to shift. Can Zoo succeed where others have failed? How do they intend to do it? I will keep an eye on this.

One other thing that’s notable is who is and isn’t on the list. Last time there were complaints that there wasn’t much support beyond the Big Four, but the defence there was that there was a national emergency and things had to be thrown together at the last moment. This time it includes most venues, but the two notable exceptions are Sweet and C Venues. Sweet Venues isn’t really news – they’ve decided to drop Edinburgh Fringe indefinitely as they feel the current costs make it impossible to support artists the way they’d want to. But C Venues, as far as I can tell, are still a thing in Edinburgh. If they’re left off a list where everyone else is on, either C Venues is having second thoughts, or they’re still off everyone’s Christmas card lists.

Still a lot up in their air. Stay tunes as we see how this turns out.

Saturday 28th May, 12.30 p.m. – A Pole Tragedy:

Review of a flagship show of the Dutch Season.

This review needs a caveat. This is part of the Dutch Season, which I’ve heard a lot about in previous years but never got round to checking out. Virtually all of reviewing is done against a set of expectations that we’ve come to expect on the UK fringe circuit – it never ceases to frustrate me when someone not used to a fringe decries a solo play because that’s not the way things are done to Stuffyton-On-The-Wold. I don’t know what conventions and expectations have grown around Dutch Theatre, and the best I can do is review against what I’m used to.

So, I’ve already had a play with burlesque in it, now one with pole dancing in it. In The Formidable Lizzie Boone, this was incidental to a wider story – you could in theory have cut that completely and the rest of the plot would still hold up. However, in A Pole Tragedy, this is integral to the entire performance. You could in principle not do the pole dancing and still have the story, but it would be a completely different performance. Anyway, Sofie Kramer tells us her father loved his little girl but also loves his country and wants to win. He also has something about shooting deer whether or he’s allowed to.

She then moves on to the lead-up to the siege of Troy. Now, granted, the Greek myths do have a rather weird attitude to women (albeit no worse than any of the other religions around at the time): frequently that women can’t be trusted, it’s perfectly fine to make a hot woman a prize in a war between the Greeks and Trojans, and sacrificing your daughter to ensure a victory is also okey-dokes*. Say what you like about modern society, but even the most deranged misogynists today think murdering your own child to help your cuckolded mate get even with the bloke she told him not to worry about is a bit of an over-reaction. Anyway, Sofie’s character for some reason has the hots for Achilles. It’s fine to to have your own private fantasies, but for some reason Sofie is pretty detailed about exactly what he wants to do with him.

* Actually, you do get your comeuppance over that one in the end, but that’s a different Greek story.

This is leading up to a problem. And – I repeat – this is my perspective as someone used to UK fringe theatre, but the problem is: metaphor overkill. There’s quite a lot of references to her 17=year-old self being “ready for the slaughter”. Is this a parallel with the unfortunate Iphigenia on the sacrificial altar, her gun-crazed dad shooting deer, or the Achilles-look-a-like soldier she fancies ready to deflower her? We can go into the details, but this builds up to the key question: what has any of this got to do with pole dancing? There’s plenty of interesting themes in the promo material: pole dancing can anything from titillation for men in strip clubs to a dance done on whatever terms a women chooses; there is indeed an uncomfortable overlap between violence and eroticism. But how does this relate to deer shooting and child sacrifices and weird attitudes to women in Greek legends? I got lost in all the metaphors long before making any connection to the pole dancing.

The production values are pretty good. Sofie Kramer certainly knows her stuff with the pole dancing. However, one less obvious thing she did was the sound design. When she strikes the pole, the sound is looped and reverberated in all sorts of ways. And one particularly awesome effect was warping the repeated strikes of the pole into something that sounds like the marching of soldiers.

I guess this ultimately comes to what is meant to be achieved here. As I’ve said before, I you want your play to make a point, it has to be accessible. I’ve seen a lot of artists fall down by assuming tons of background knowledge on the issue and presenting it in an abstract way that nobody who hasn’t already been won over will understand. That defeats the object. However, perhaps the object is to normalise a completely different style of theatre to an audience not used to it. Perhaps an audience more used to this will pick up the intend theme sooner. Perhaps performances like this will make people pick up other plays like this in the future. At I can’t say much more than that. Your call.

Saturday 28th May, 10.30 a.m. – The Last:

Review of an adaptation of The Last Man

Right, now that I’ve been able to get a sensible night’s sleep, let’s resume reviewing before the backlog gets too big.

We begin with The Last, Different Theatre’s adaptation of Mary Shelley’s The Last Man. Her most famous book, Frankenstein, is of course considered one of the greatest genre-defining works of fiction, but The Last Man has a strong claim to that too. This is set in a future world where humanity is almost entirely wiped out by plague. Unlike Frankenstein, however, this book bombed when first released. And yet over a century later it went on to provide the inspiration for countless cult favourites set in plague-apocalyptpic worlds. The book may only be an obscure footnote, but the legacy is almost as big as her famous.

The original book is almost 500 pages. As we all know, when a book is that length you can’t hope to get more than a fraction on stage in an hour. Sam Chittenden manages a good abridgement of the story, keeping the structure of the original and not feeling anything’s been missed out. Performed in a mostly storytelling format from Mary Shelley (played by Amy Kidd), it has some parallels to today’s events, presumably highlighted deliberately: beginning with news of a diseases but it’s far away and people there die anyway, until things come closer, and then comes to Britain until it’s no longer background news, and finally life goes on hold. Only this time, the plague hasn’t even got started.

What makes this play different from a straight storytelling adaptation is the parallels with real life. If you’re wondering why Mary Shelley had to go for such a downbeat story, it’s probably because she’d lost almost her of her family to disease. The promising opening is a tearful Mary Shelley hugging the coat of her dead husband Percy. Annoyingly, however, this strongest thread of the adaptation is over before it’s really begun. Mary says that she shall base characters on the people closest to her who she lost, including Percy and Lord Byron – but we never what these fictional characters have in common with their true-life counterparts, which I was looking forward to.

I try to avoid saying how other people’s plays should be written, because it’s easy for that to turn into turning their play into your play. However, I will break this rule here because I can easily see this format working as – rather than Mary saying she’ll write a book, announcing the characters are diving straight in to the story – deliver this as if she’s confiding with someone as a story she has in her head. The delivery could drift between her reminiscing about the lives of those closest to her and how this is playing out in the story. The parallel with the ending is clear though: Mary Shelley was not the last man on earth, but it felt like she was. This was on for two nights, so hopefully there are plans to bring this back another time with more development. It’s a good call to make the story of The Last Man the story of Mary Shelley – so let’s me the most of it.

Friday 27th May, 6.00 p.m.:

A comeback for The Lantern?

And we’re off. No reviews just yet – as is customary, I like to mull plays over for a minimum of a few hours before I put thoughts in writing.

In the meantime, however, it’s worth a quick comment about Lantern @ ACT. ACT is the Academy of Creative Training, one of many drama schools based in Brighton. As per many drama schools, this one has its own studio theatre, and this one doubles up as a small year-round theatre. I’ve now been there twice, and it’s a pretty decent space with some pretty decent technical capabilities.

Until this year, it’s not registered on my radar at all – but there again, it had no reason to before now. Prior to 2020, Brighton Fringe was getting more like Edinburgh with the programme gravitating to big multi-space venues. But with the biggest mutli-space venue out of action this year, suddenly the small venues such as this one have taken the overspill and become notable.

Now that we must contemplate the possibility that the Warren-shaped hole could be here for the long term, we also need to contemplate the possibility that the small venues that hurriedly took the overspill will carry on doing on. In which case, The Lantern is in quite a strong position to become a major player if it wants to. Its scale is similar to The Rialto, and as we know the Rialto has been the long-standing exception to the rule: a successful single-space venue in the fringe where multi-space became the norm. The Lantern didn’t quite have a big enough fringe programme to join the new “big five” (Sweet, Rialto, Spiegeltent, Laughing Horse and Rotunda), but it wasn’t far off. If small venues spread over the sity stays the norm, we could be learning a lot more about The Lantern from next year.

Friday 27th May, 2.00 p.m.:

Government denies plans to scrap Arts Council England

I’m here. Took a small detour to check out Crossrail, which I can confirm is real and not just faked images you see on TV organised by the Illuminati. There again, I could be in the payroll of the Illuminati to tell you that, so think carefully. First play in half an hour. Before then, it’s time for a small break from Brighton – it’s hot take time.

So a few days ago there was a bit of panic that the Government was poised to axe Arts Council England and replace it with another body full of yes-men that would give funding to more yes-men. That wasn’t an unreasonable thing to worry about. This government has a track record of crying foul and demanding reform every time an independent or arms-length body criticises or otherwise refuses to agree with them. And with the review conducted by Jacob Rees-Mogg and Nadine Dorries being Culture Secretary – both amongst the worst offenders for meddling where the Government shouldn’t – I wouldn’t put it past them.

However, there is a counter-argument to this. Many are claiming the Government wants to destroy the arts because the arts criticises them, as some claim they are doing with the BBC and Channel 4. The difference is that BBC and Channel 4 have a lot of public reach. I hate to break this to, but subsidised theatre doesn’t exactly have the government quaking in its boots. It’s a niche pusuit I and many others love, but it’s still pretty niche. And, let’s face it, the majority of people seeing it aren’t planning to vote Conservative anyway. Commercial Theatre has a much bigger reach, but it not nearly so political – and in any case, you can’t punish a West End production with a cut to subsidy if they weren’t subsidised in the first place. Is it really worth picking a fight over this?

Whatever the reason, the Government has swiftly denied there’s any talk of scrapping Arts Council England. Of course, this is a Boris Johnson Government denial, which is different from a normal denial, but one would think you wouldn’t say this if you were softening public opinion for something this controversial. There is also the concern over cutting funding in general – however, the government’s had more than enough chances to sit on its hands and let subsidised theatre wither and die if that’s what it was after.

Do I believe the government would do something as reprehensible as to control the arts if it thought it worthwhile? Yes. Were they testing the water to see if they could get away with it? Maybe. Will they still try pulling a stunt like this after specifically saying they won’t do this? Probably not. Should we be vigilant just in case? Of course.

But I’m more relaxed than I was last week. It’s a bit a dampener that the reason for this might well be because the Government thinks we’re not important enough to be worth fighting. But, for better or worse, that’s where we are.

Friday 27th May, 8.30 a.m:

A lot of five-star and four-star reviews are coming

One thing that’s worth mentioning it this point is that I’m seeing a lot of five-star and four-star reviews flying off the shelves this Brighton Fringe. Normally, I would treat this with caution – we are still in the recovery phase of the worst crisis to hit the fringes in their entire history, and there’s a lot of good will for those picking themselves up and getting back in the game. There again, I don’t remember this translating into star-rating inflation last year. It’s only an unscientific sample, but out of the small number taking part, I reckon I saw two-star reviews with roughly the same frequency as a normal year. If there was lack of evidence of lowering the bar last year, it seems unlikely they’d suddenly start doing that this year.

More to the point, however, some of these heavily-praised plays are ones I’ve seen for myself, and I can attest that they were good enough to be earning this good reviews. And this is reflected by my own experience. You may have noticed I’ve been a lot more praiseful of the plays I’ve seen that I am in a typical year. Admittedly my own sample is affected by a lot more review requests this year, but I’m not sure this would affect the results.

I’d need to do some better analysis to confirm this, but it does seem that there’s been a high quality of Brighton Fringe plays this year. Given all the woes to hit Brighton this year on other fronts, that would be welcome news if true, and welcome news for fringe theatre in general too. There can be little doubt that there’s been a hit and a lot of groups are leaving and not coming back, but perhaps the survivors are the good ones.

Friday 27th May, 7.00 a.m.:

Coming in up in weekend 4

Yes, that’s right, 7.00 a.m. Hope you appreciate the dedication. But I’ve got a ludicrously intense 48 hours ahead of me. I’ve had a lot of review requests, but for some reason the lion’s share have fallen over these two days. It’s taken a very tight operation to schedule all of this, but I’ve managed it. For future reference, it is advisable to send press releases before the fringe begins, and failing that, certainly not a few days before. By then, I have probably already scheduled what I’m doing that day and may even already have the press tickets.

Vermin returns tomorrow and runs until Monday, running various times. I saw this my first time round and it’s really good. To repeat a content warning (I have a policy of not giving content warnings when common sense would tell you what to expect but this is one of the time it doesn’t): there are graphic descriptions of animal cruelty which you will need a strong stomach for, but it’s worth it for the power-struggle between a seriously messed up couple. Also returning tomorrow and Sunday is The Huns, a funyn but sadly too relatable play set on the world’s most passive-aggressive (shortly to become aggressive-aggressive) conference call.

Three new plays on my recommendations list begin this week. Testament of Yootha starts a Sweet @ the Poets tomorrow and Sunday at Sweet at the Poet’s at 2.45 p.m. This is a solo biopic of Yootha Joyce, but goes into wider strange and somewhat shallow world of how women are treated when they’re not valued for looks. The first of two performances of Fragile is tomorrow at 3.15 at Laughing Horse at the Walrus. Don’t know much about this other than it involving a woman finding herself on a long walk, but it was at Brighton Fringe last year and everyone raved about it. And just starting (actually yesterday but I miss it) it The Event, possibly the world record holder for the most meta and self-referential play. Rotunda 7.45 until Sunday.

And finally, still running is the second and last performance of The Last, Sam Chittenden’s play that crosses over Mary Shelley’s fictional story The Last Man with the real-life tragedies that inspired the stories. And Underdogs, the apparently true story of a man who want for the world record of being buried alive, runs until tomorrow at the Rialto Theatre, 8.00 p.m.

Phew!

Thursday 26th May – Moral Panic:

Review of Moral Panic

Before we get on to the last review in my backlog, an interesting observation about use of venues. One obvious side-effect for The Warren 2022’s demise is that there’s an awful lot of plays taking place in spaces that don’t have the sound and lighting capability we’re used to. Or more precisely, we’re used to in Edinburgh. Anyone used to Buxton Fringe will know it’s not that unusual to perform without. As we saw with Vermin, some plays work perfectly well on the strength of just the words. Moral Panic, however, is a good example of the other solution. This took place in the basement on Conclave, an art gallery, and even though it was just a normal room, a pretty decent makeshift set of lights were rigged up which did almost as good a job as the real thing. Many groups often abandon their fringe plans if they can’t get a space in a “proper” venue, but Blue Dog Theatre did a good job of demonstrating what you can do with DIY if you’re determined to make it work.

Anyway, enough of the space, on to the play. It’s the 1980s, and there’s a panic over the “video nasty”. Owing to the proliferation of the videotape, films that previously had to be vetted through the cinema have gone straight to the corruptible public. To be fair to censor Charles, there’s is some pretty nasty stuff out there, but being the the 1980s, the panic is all over blasphemy involving demons and crucifixes. One moment you’re watching The Exorcist at home and the next moment you’re drawing pentagrams and having orgies in goat entrails. “Ah”, I hear you cry. “But why don’t the censors who see this stuff go round murdering people?” Duh, moral fortitude. Do keep up. And so we watch a perfect opinion as stuffy pencil-moustached Charles (Jack W Cooper) watches Lesbian Nuns Demonic Orgy 6 or something like that, furiously scribbling on his clipboard as he does so.

Charles’s no-nonsense old-school attitude extends to his home life too. He expects his food on the table when he comes home from his loyal Susan because she likes doing that sort of thing, probably. She also probably likes his advice on what jewellery shouldn’t be worn outside the house. It wouldn’t be fair to write him off as on out-and-out sexist though. When the first woman is appointed to the board of censors, I’m sure he’d have been perfectly fine with an equally stiff elderly spinster muttering “It’s filth!” whenever someone says a rude word, such as “bottom” or “knickers”. Unfortunately, the new appointment is young Veronica. Provocatively dressed, distressingly European in her attitudes, doesn’t seem to have a problem with anything Charles demands cutting, and goodness knows what debauchery she partakes in over in Italy. Worse, she’s been appointed by the retiring Chief Censor – a position Charles was sure he had in the bag. What is going on here?

I’ve just talked about the importance of characterisation; here, however, writer/director Stuart Warwick gets it. It would have been easy to have made Charles into a right-wing caricature, but the secret to this is that – however silly his old-fashioned views on censorship are – you always understand what he wants and how genuinely is is horrified by the heathen liberalism of Veronica. And the references to the video at the time are of real films that caused panic. The only thing where I felt something was missing was the twist at the end. I will refrain from giving it away, suffice to say that there’s somebody who proves dangerous to underestimate. Does the dirty deed make sense? Yes – it was a pretty devious move which all made sense if you’d thought to through. What I didn’t quite register, however, is why that person would do something so extreme. I think we need something extra to show why this was the logical course of action for our unexpected malcontent. That’s only a small issue though. If you remember the Mary Whitehouse era, this will get you nostalgic – if you didn’t: it’s a different kind of stupid compared to today’s censorshiup, but you’ll pick it up soon enough. This has now finished its run in Brighton, but hopefully this will be returning to more fringes very soon.

Wednesday 25th May – Mala Sororibus:

Review of Mala Sororibus

And it’s that time already. I’m returning for two days in Brighton and I’ve got masses of review requests to process. Looks like I have a very tight operation coming up on Saturday and Sunday. It looks like I’ll be unable to meet some review requests simply due to impossible scheduling. If that’s you, sorry, sometimes this comes down to luck. Best thing to do if contact me again if you go to future fringes – I normally end up prioritising those who are determined for me to review them. In the meantime, please enjoy this wholesome picture of the bandstand in Brighton. I see something like this every year and I never tire of it.

Time for today’s review: Mala Sororibus from Troubador Theatre, and a heavy crossover with New Venture Theatre. Three middle-aged women are out walking in the countryside. They bicker over the most trivial things, but stop when their niece Beth arrives. It was only recently that Beth’s mother died, and with the two of them keen on survival in the outdoors, it’s considered a fitting way to commemorate the departed. It soon becomes clear, however, that Beth and her three aunties have not been seeing each other until very recently. A bit strange, you might thing, but there’s an early explanation that might explain this: Beth is actually quite annoying. She might not even realise this, but her mildly scolding tone when giving Barbara, Judith and Glynnis rules for survival is enough to make anyone find another engagement. But that’s only the start of it. The three sisters don’t seem to have had that happy a time at home. Beth has seemingly inherited a lot of money. Someone is not being straight with someone, and out in the middle of nowhere it’s asking for trouble.

For this sort of play, the biggest challenge by far is characterisation. The one rule you can never escape from is that everything a character does must be plausible – and the more out of the ordinary a character behaves (and the ending is as far from ordinary behaviour as can be), the harder you have to work to explain why. But when all is not as it seems, this principle has to work on several layers. Each characters’ behaviour has to be plausible to the audience at face value – you can drop the odd hint that something’s not quite right, but in the harsh world of fringe theatre implausible actions are put down as bad writing. Each characters’ behaviour has to be plausible to the other characters – when your characters know each other, you have to consider what would be accepted as normal and what would make them smell a rat. Finally, it all has to make sense at the end – the audience should be able to retrace the characters’ steps and not think “wait, why didn’t she just do that instead?” One similar consideration is when characters reveal secrets? Always be asking yourself: What made her open up now? Why did she never open up before? Yes, it’s a plot requirement that the audience need to know, but still you have to make the moment believable.

What I would say is resist the temptation to stick to the plot you have in your head when a plot point isn’t quite working. There’s nothing more frustrating than have a plot requirement that isn’t possible to write without somebody doing something out of character, or failing to react to something obviously wrong, or failing to register danger. You might have an explanation in your head but the audience don’t, and if it’s not possible to get that across, it’s sometimes better to abandon that plot point completely and find another way to make the story work. The framework for a farcical comedy masking a thriller is there. Pleasantries mask greed and resentment; the questioned is left in the balance as to who will outwit who, who will get their way in the end, how far they are prepared to go to get it. The icing on the cake would surely be showing why it’s the only way it could have gone

Tuesday 24th May – Yasmine Day: Songs in the key of me:

Jay Bennet’s second show as the delusional diva

And a happy Crossrail Day to those who celebrate. Now, I’ve sure the question you’re all dying to ask me is will I use the opportunity whilst travelling through London on Friday. But that would be a spoiler. Anyway, let’s get through these remaining reviews in the order I saw them.

Today’s review is Yasime Day: Songs in the key of me. This will be a quick review as I am theatre blogger, and this one, whilst it does have some crossover with theatre, is moving sharply back in the comedy direction. Yasime Day is a comedy character of Jay Bennet, an 80s diva whose opinion of herself vastly outstrips her ability to be a pop diva. She would like to glide on a moving stage, but owing to budgetary constraints and limitations of the capabilities of this space, she has to make do with a beer trolley. She is also accompanied by her pianist (also her nephew and lodger). If this sounds crummy, it’s your fault for not understanding the art deeply enough.

Yasmine Day’s previous show was painfully pretentious renditions of 80s hits. This time, however, she’s treating us to renditions of original music, which goes a long way to explain why she never made it into the charts. A light-hearted song about to teenagers getting it on gets the chorus “We are kissin’ cousins” (spoiler: cousins may be more related than advertised). And with street harassment increasingly a topic for discussion, Yasmine thinks outside the box, and in response to the time builder invited her to suck his big fat cock (or something like than), Yasmine sang “I still got it.” Actually those songs are quite catchy. There is a rule with comedy music it’s almost always funnier if the songs are musical in their own right, and that’s certainly the case here.

However, I must say I do miss the tragi-comedy of the previous show. Jay Bennet tells me that Yasmine’s lifelong feud with Cheryl Baker and the way she blames everyone else for her failures is still canonical and feeds into the character now, and I can’t expect every new show to go through this all over again. But one of the most poignant memories of An Audience with Yasmine Day was the moments when her vulnerability slipped through. But although I may miss that, it feeds well into the diva who’s scaled even more heights of delusion than her last outing. Recommended as a lot of fun.

Monday 23rd May:

Coming up in week 3 …

Bloody hell, packing as much as you can into 96 hours catches up on you, but the fact is we’re only just past the half-way point. Let’s once again take a look at what’s coming up.

On of the Rialto’s flagship productions comes up this week. Underdogs is billed as co-written by the writer of The Shark is Broken, a popular documentary about the making of Jaws, but it’s play Brian Mitchell and Joseph Nixon that gets my attention: Big Daddy versus Giant Haystacks, an funny but insightful look the the trend that began in the 1970s of watch two overweight men having an obviously staged fight. This play is about an equally strange story of a man seeking the world record for longest time spent in a coffin (alive). This starts tomorrow and runs until Saturday, all performances at 8.00 p.m.

Also new this week is The Last from Sam Chittenden. She had an interesting style of writing about authors, teetering between the stories of their real lives and the fictional worlds they created. This is based on The Last Man by Mary Shelley, which supposedly set (ominously) in a 21st century world ravaged by plague, but it considered by many to really be about the death of her husband and three of her children. This is on Thursday and Friday and Friends Meeting House at 7.00 p.m.

If you liked the sound of Vermin, that’s not coming back until Satuday, but between now and Wednesday you can see their other play, An Audience With Stuart Bagcliffe until Wednesday at 7, Laughing Horse at the Walrus again. The Huns do their last two performances on Tuesday and Wednesday 7.30 at the Rotunda. And speaking of the Rotunda, there’s a change to see Ross Ericson doing War of the Worlds on Wednesday at 7.45 p.m.

So plenty to keep you busy until I return. Join me tomorrow when I start clearing these last few reviews.

Sunday 22nd May, 11.30p.m.:

The visibility of Brighton Fringe

Back in Durham. One final thing before beddy-byes. One thing I’ve heard from several people about the Brighton Fringe is that it doesn’t feel like there’s a fringe on. Some people even think this is damaging ticket sales. That latter one is difficult to prove, but it’s nonetheless something that needs thinking about.

What I do know is that there was a marked difference between Brighton and Buxton fringes in 2020. At Buxton Fringe, the only in-person events were the visual arts exhibitions (plus one very determined comedian who wanted to do a live performance no matter what). The Buxton Fringe Committee, however, still decorated the town the same as a normal fringe. Even though the majority of people viewing Buxton Fringe online wouldn’t have seen that. Contrast that with Brighton Fringe 2020, and outside the venues there was no sign of a fringe. If you weren’t following events you would probably had no idea it was on.

There’s no point arguing over how 2020 fringes were done – they were difficult circumstances and anything at all was an achievement. However, I think what this tells us is that, unlike Buxton, Brighton Fringe has been happy to let the venues be the visible presence, particularly the Warren and Spiegeltent. Suddenly we don’t have The Warren, and although Spiegeltent has still been in his usual spot, I guess it’s not enough to cover a Warren-shaped hole.

I think the lesson from 2022 is that Brighton Fringe needs to be more proactive in marketing itself. They would do well to take some inspiration from Buxton here. Obviously the same solution won’t work – Brighton is a much bigger place that Buxton to be noticed in – but in Durham I’ve seen similar-sized festivals get decent visibility in a similar-sized city. A long way to go to work out the details; all I know is that we can no longer rely on pop-up venues to do the job for us.

Sunday 22nd May, 6.00 p.m. – Sex, Lies and Improvisation:

Review of a different king of improv

This is a bit of an unusual one to review. You rarely hear the term “improv” outside of “improv comedy”. In theory, this should be no exception. It’s literally called “Sex, Lies and Improvisation” and it’s in the comedy section of the programme. But where did the assumption come from you can’t have one without the other? We have scripted comedies, so why not an improvised drama?

Sex, Lies and Improvisation started off its life as Between Us, which has been on my Edinburgh Fring radar for some time. The rebrand, I understand, was mostly for marketing purposes, but it also gave the premise for the seed to the improvisation: a lie told to your partner. Originally, they asked for people to shout out suggestions, but they weren’t always forthcoming – and, seriously, do you think I’m going to own up to that? So instead they asked people to own up through the more anonymous medium of a website. With lies numbered from 2 to 69 available tonight, I was incredibly dismayed that the whole audience wasn’t crying out for 69 – come on, the play has the word “sex” in the title folk – and we ended up with “I tell my partner I vote Labour, but I don’t really.”

And so Rachel Thorn and Alex Keen begin their story and notch this lie up a few levels. Not only does Rachel openly vote Labour, she’s a Keir Starmer and Angela Rayner superfan. Alex Keen, on the other hand, is a closet Tory (albeit a Tory with sense, which I’m told still exist somewhere), but he’s gone along with canvassing for Labour. That gets some laughs, as does the mention that Alex’s father as really right-wing. From this point onwards, however, the laughs peter out, and it goes on to two more serious subjects. In spite of efforts to win him over, Alex’s father is an steadfast lech and bully. Rachel, on the other hand, has no room of difference of opinion in her world and wants ideological purity.

It’s a pretty decent story for something knocked off the cuff – to be honest, it’s better than some conventional scripted plays. There is a school of thought that playwriting should be based on rounded characters and how they respond to each other, and to some extent it’s an exercise in seeing how it can work if you leave characters to their own devices. There’s not much point in analysing the story I saw too much – the only bit I thought got a bit repetitive was them hesitating in wondering how to answer a difficult question from their partner. I realise a two-hander is improv in hard mode when there’s no opportunity to knock up the next scene in the wings, but anything that avoid umming overkill would be a plus.

This is a very different form of improv to Murder She Didn’t Write or Notflix or Crime Scene Improvisation. Those work as out-and-out comedies very well, but I think it would be a mistake for Sex, Lies and Improvisation to trying outdo them on playing it for laughs. Like Room, it’s difficult to rate this as there’s not really anything like this to compare it to. But it’s different, it’s worth seeing for being different, and it makes it mark for showing this concept can work.

Sunday 22nd May, 3.45 p.m.:

Where did the weekday daytime shows go?

That’s visit one concluded. 13 plays over four days. I now have five pending reviews to clear before Friday. I will get through them as fast as I can.

Now, one mystery we’d forgotten about i all this excitement over The Venue Who Must Not Be Named is the return to a weekend-centric festival with hardly anything before 6.00 p.m. on weekdays. I have done the analysis and it’s not quite as dramatic as it sounds. The Rialto have advised me they never opened on weekday daytimes in the first place. I’m not sure what Laughing Horse and Spiegeltent used to do before 2020, but as venues dominated by comedy and cabaret I can’t see them have done much before 6 on weekdays. (Theatre can be viable during the day, but comedy and cabaret rarely so – I’m not counting family shows which is a whole different category.) Based on memory, most of the weekday daytime programme came from Sweet and the Warren, and we all know what happened with The Warren. Sweet had started running a decent afternoon programme in the late 2010s and is the only like-for-like change here. However, with the new venue hedging its bets on patronage from locals, you probably don’t want to rely on times when everyone’s working just yet.

However, whilst the shift away from weekday daytime might be down to most venues simply carry on as they were, it seems unlikely we will be going back any time soon. As I think I have mentioned, the observations from practically all of the venues is that weekends are selling a lot better than weekdays, especially start of the week. Those who chose not to bother with Mondays aren’t regretting their decision. Historically, weekday daytime programming happens when you run out of evening – but at the moment weekdays aren’t looking that good a bet at all. So whilst it’s not impossible we will return to pre-2020 schedules eventually, I’m not expecting weekday daytime fringe to be coming back to Brighton any time soon.

Sunday 22nd May, 9.30 p.m. – The Huns:

The most passive-aggressive conference call

That’s better. Time for another review. This one is The Huns, and comes from a Canadian company One Four One Collective. I’m not sure why it has the name; I vaguely remember seeing a video on their social media feed explaining the title, which I might check at some point. Please be assured there’s no Vikings or World War One soldiers called Fritz in this, just the equally brutal world of the conference call.

Three people assemble in a conference room to discuss a burglary last night. The obvious question why a break-in would require the attention of several offices around the world, HR, and the CEO of the company himself. However, that is going to have to wait. Before we can get on to this subject, we have to put up with faulty presentation equipment, nobody understanding how to do a conference call, people chipping in with irrelevant questions, and a particularly useless Vice-CEO (coincidentally married to the CEO) who won’t mute her phone to cut out wind because she’s can’t hear anyone telling her to mute.

According to the press release, this starts off as a civilised and professional meeting. Sorry, you don’t fool me that easily. Speaking as someone who’s been these sorts of calls, this is starts off as a passive-aggressive and superficially-professional-but-obviously-a-complete-shambles-underneath meeting. Amongst the chaotic set-up of the call and the endless stalling over what actually happened last night, one thing soon becomes clear: not only is the building they’ve moved in to a shambles from top to bottom (which faulty lifts, rubbish piling up everywhere and burglar alarms that go off every five minutes), everyone is manoeuvring themselves to say this wasn’t their fault. Clearly the routine issues in the Estates department have suddenly become a lot more important than anyone’s letting on. I won’t give away what the bombshell is, but it be honest, it’s no surprise when it comes.

There is a serious side to this. As someone who works in tech and has been on those sort of conference calls*, I’m afraid to say there’s not much hyperbole here. This is considered normal behaviour. Due to the nature of tech projects, they gravitate to lots of long hours being worked at the last moment. That is far from inevitable, there are plenty of ways of ensuring it doesn’t come to that, but that requires effort. And, unfortunately, there are a lot of people who double down on defending this culture. It’s exciting, it’s team-bonding. Anyone who complains about being forced to cancel their life outside of work is decried as insufficiently committed. Most alarmingly, a lot of people who call themselves left-wing think some leisure facilities in the workplace are an acceptable recompense for treating your workers like the property of the company. Of course, the problem with packing all work into the last moment is that one small setback is liable to kill the whole project. And no-one ever learns the right lessons. It’s all blame games, as we see here.

* Arse covering footnote, the worst conference calls I witnessed pre-date my current job and most of my tech work, but I have it on good authority the same exists in tech.

I do need to be careful about making this review into an endorsement of the opinions rather than the play. What really matters is how the characters respond to this, and yes, it is a very believable depiction of smiles and professionalism thinly hiding a survival game trying to pin the blame on anyone but themselves. If there was a weakness, the moral to the ending, much as I agree with it, was a little overdone. The human cost of crunch culture heavily dominates the last quarter of the play, but the lengthy monologues used to spell out a lot of things already implied by the rest of the play drags the pace down to something that was otherwise fast moving. But even if the message is spelt out a little too dogmatically by the end, the message a good one and made well. This is on at the Rotunda with another performance at 3.00 p.m. today, and two more at 7.30 p.m. next Tuesday and Wednesday.

Saturday 21st May, 8.30 p.m.:

More info about The Warren

And it’s finally happened. I’m starting to flag. This is something I’d forgotten about. Throughout all of 2020 and 2021, there was only a finite number of fringe shows on offer and not possible to pack four in a day. In addition, long walks to and from outlying venues have gone from an occasional activity to a regular thing. Never mind, two to go in this stint.

I will drop one bit on news before signing off today. As I’ve previously mentioned, I’ve been asking around about The Warren, which is increasingly looking worse than what we know publicly. So far, I’ve refrained from repeating much of what I’ve heard because I want to make absolutely sure I’ve got facts straight and verified before I publish anything that could be damaging. I do not want to ignore this and once I have reviews out of the way I intend to do some proper fact checking.

However, there is one thing I think I can safely say now. I have spoken to numerous people, from performing to venue managers to fringe organisers, and there’s one thing that’s consistent. It is my understanding that The Warren didn’t jump, it was pushed. I’m pretty sure Brighton Fringe put their foot down; some are also saying that Brighton Council put their foot down too. How The Warren responded to this is a bit more supposition, but that would certainly explain why the Electric Arcade is running this “The EA in May” programme. One would have thought that if it was Otherplace’s decision to pull The Warren, they would have either kept Electric Arcade in Brighton Fringe with their blessing, or pulled the Electric Arcade too. Certainly not run a May programme over Brighton Fringe’s dates sort-of branded to look like the same thing.

There’s a lot of other stuff I need to verify first, but it is looking like The Warren is going to come out of this a lot worse than it went in.

Saturday 21st May, 6.00 p.m.:

A look at Junkyard Dogs

This is my busy day with my most packed schedule. Up to now I’ve kept up with reviews quite quickly – after today there’s likely to be a backlog. I will catch up as soon as I can (if nothing else, I don’t want to be back next Friday with reviews from the weekend still to do). As per previous practice, reviews seen on press tickets generally get priority over those weren’t. I will also take into account whether I can get a review out whilst the play is still running.

Now, whilst I have a gap, it’s time to look at another new venue. Now, those of you with long memories might remember that in 2019 I took a lot of interest in Junkyard Dogs, twice winners of best venue, now upscaling to a three=space venue. Suddenly it all went quiet. Junkyard Dogs’ year-round venue closed, and there was only a small presence at a pub for 2020. Then along came The Event and this became a small detail in the grand scheme of things.

But last night, I went back to Junkyard Dogs at its new home in the Round Georges. I’d assumed that, like all of these other downsizing moves happening, the closure of Junkyard Dogs’ permanent event was down to rule one of fringe theatres: Landlords Are Cocks (TM). But apparently not – this was actually the decision of the Junkyard Dogs teams themselves. Whilst they were running a venue successfully, it was too much hard work to keep running as a business seven days a week. Whilst running within a pub in Hannover means you work on the lucrative weekends and take off the start of the new week.

Their 2022 programme is basically the 2020 programme rolled over two years. Had the 2020 fringe happened as intended, Junkyard Dogs would probably have been relegated to a footnote. However, with a heavily reconfigured 2022 fringe and Sweet Venues now heavily courting a local audience in Hove, Junkyard Dogs at the Round Georges isn’t that unusual courting an audience the other end of the city. A lot will depend on whether this reconfiguration sticks. Once again, all bets are off.

Saturday 21st May, 11.00 a.m – 0.0031% Plastic and chicken bones:

A play with echoes of Brave New World

This is going to be a tough one to review, simply because it’s going to be hard to say anything about it without giving away some sort of spoiler. If you want a spoiler-free version, I believe there were already two five-star reviews out when I saw this on Thursday, and I can tell you those ratings were given for a good reason. If you are already planning to see this I advise you to stop reading this, because the greatest thing about Malcolm Galea’s writing is the way the information about a dystopian future is revealed.

“Dryskoll” wakes up in an unfamiliar surrounding in an unfamiliar body. It soon becomes clear that body-hopping is something that Dryskoll does all the time – in fact, in the future under the direction of the benevolent omnipresent AI system “Zimmy” everybody does this. Humans don’t really have their own bodies any more – rather they all an “ideologue”: a mind that can be transferred from body to body. The first use was evading death – since then, it has now been used for travel and even a fashion statement. However, Dryskoll is one of a few permitted to go a step further than most of Earth’s three billion subjects, and is sent through time. Only there’s a 0.031% chance of a glitch and ended up in the wrong time, place and person, and Dryskoll has been unlucky.

One early sign of things to come is Dryskoll commenting it’s a bit cold, to which Zimmy calmly responds that in 2022 this temperature was normal. The current quest of humanity is to undo the damage of the war that would have destroyed humanity but for Zimmy’s intervention, and when repairing damage is too difficult, to go back in time and try to stop it happening in the first place, such as nuclear disasters. However, if you’re really really perceptive, you might spot there’s a bit of this plan that doesn’t quite add up. Is Zimmy really such a benevolent dictator as she claims to be? And if you don’t spot the catch (and you’ll need to be a genius to spot this early), someone’s going to point this out, which throw everything into question. Some excellent parallels to Brave New World here, but with the catches harder to spot.

That’s as far as I can go without giving too much away. What I can say with spoiling any more is that it’s a very clever concept which is brilliantly revealed to the audience one bit at a time. If there’s one small thing I would suggest for improvement, it would be a clearer relationship between narrator and audience. I like solo plays to be more specific than one actor telling a story in first person. Who are the audience? Why is the actor talking to them? Normally I don’t discuss this as it’s just my own personal preference, but on this occasion there’s a very good reason to establish to audience as people from the present who’ve stumbled across this strangest of stranger. I can’t say why, but the reason will become clear at the end.

There are two performances left of this at Sweet at the Poet’s, tonight and tomorrow at 6.00 p.m. I know it’s a trek, but trust me, it’s worth it for this one.

Friday 20th May, 11.00 p.m.:

Why did Brighton Fringe revert to May

One last things before I close tonight. Although we’ve been kept distracted by that change to Brighton Fringe, one other change that we thought might happen was keeping the June Brighton Fringe of 2021 permanent. There was quite a bit of support for this, but in the end it reverted to May. What happened there.

Well, I have made some enquiries. I was not mistaken about support for a June fringe, but what I hadn’t clocked was that the support was predominantly coming from performers. Venues, on the other hand, were more supportive of reverting to May, mostly for logistical reasons. The other factor was how much opposition there was to the two options. Most of the people who expressed a preference for June were apparently happy to stick with May should the decision go that way. However, there were more people who expressed support for May who said they wouldn’t do June.

The possibility of doing June in the future hasn’t been ruled out, but as long as the fringe season feeds into Edinburgh a move to June would squeeze from fringe season into three months instead of four. So whilst the option might be open for future years. I don’t think they’ll move from May – at least, not without another major intervening event.

Friday 20th May, 6.00 p.m. – Vermin:

Review of Vermin

Before you can see this play, you first of all have to find it. This is my first visit to a Brighton Laughing Horse venue, and boy, it was hard work finding this one. The Walrus is an absolutely massive pub, with two different spaces, and no indication anywhere of where to find these rooms, or which space was which. This surprised me a little, because I’ve found Laughing Horse to be the best-organised of the Free Fringe venues in Edinburgh. Although, to be fair, the very nature of their operation means they run on a skeleton staff and I guess it depends a lot on how enthusiastic the host venue is. At the moment, I am in Caroline of Brunswick, which is clearly a comedy venue in its own right. But anyway, I found it eventually.

As expected, Laughing Horse is a similar deal to Edinburgh: expect no special lighting or sound, just make use of what the room already has. As it turns out, Tryptich Theatre’s play is ideally suited to this. The entire story is Rachel and Billy telling their story. The are the world’s most in-love love-dovey couple, and the excitedly tell as about the fateful moment they met on a delayed train. Although there’s already something a bit off about this. Most people react with either sympathy of “for fuck’s sake” when there’s a jumper on the line – Rachel and Billy, on the other had, and mawkishly gawping over whether he lives or dies.

There is a content warning I really need to give about this play: there’s A LOT of graphic references to animal cruelty in this. (This is why I think the current category tickbox system used by Brighton Fringe doesn’t work – the content warnings supplied gave up no idea what was coming. More thoughts here.) Billy’s ghoulish obsession with death didn’t come out of nowhere – he was a pathological animal-killer as a child, starting with bugs and creepy crawlies, but being forced to end when it became clear what he was killing and how he was doing it. He quips at one point about “everybody” getting the urge to push someone on to the tracks at a crowded tube station once in a while – it increasingly looks like the only thing that stops him are the consequences.

Benny Ainsworth and Sally Parfett are a great double-act of this messed up couple. When a rat infestation blights their new home, it becomes clear that Billy doesn’t see this as pest control – he enjoys the killing way too much. For a long time, Rachel has been egging him on – even the worst of the animal cruelty stories is a hoot to her. But when she comes face to to face with the rats, she unexpectedly becomes a sort-of rat-whisperer. That is a rather strange change of heart, but there is a reason for this. And once the reason is clear, we know this is not going to end well. And there’s only one context I could see the two of them telling this story together now.

Again, be aware you need a strong stomach for this one. In a way, this does the opposite of Lizzie Boone. The last play was someone who was a victim of circumstance and did stupid things because the hand life dealt her. Rachel and Billy, however, have so much going for them, and yet there is a twisted inevitability about how these two are doomed to be the architects of their own misfortune. Recommended if you have the stomach for this. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Friday 20th May, 3.30 p.m.:

A look at Sweet at the Poets

Now to take a look at another new venues, and it’s the most significant change. In 2022, it’s goodbye Sweet Werks, hello Sweet at the Poet’s. I was caught up the the events that led to the move from Werks Central. I won’t comment on that as what I know is off the record, but for my wider thoughts on unplanned moves of small venues (features some less diplomatic language from me), you can read an article from a couple of months back on The Laurels.

As I previously said, I miss The Dukebox. Back when the pub was called the Iron Duke, it was a great little year-round venue where a theatre doubled up as a community of performers. Sweet did a good job of trying to do something similar with the Cafe in a building of creative offices, but it wasn’t really the same. Anyway, the move was taken as an opportunity to reset and make new plans. Having seen the Poets Ale and Smokehouse myself, it looks like it does this job well. There’s a couple of bonuses: the upstairs room they’re using as the venue has bigger stage space and capacity than the Dukebox, and with downstairs spilt into two bars, you have a handy separate spaces for theatre goers are regular pub goers. There is one major issue to be aware of, though: it’s in Hove. Not the Dukebox Hove which was just west of the peace statue, but a good distance away.

I won’t tell a lie. If I’d made this decision with all of the other venues expected to stay as they were in 2019, I’d have been nervous about this gamble. In 2019, the major venues were getting increasingly centralised, and a lot more like Edinburgh where you can pop from one venue to another in 15 minutes. This venue? Not a chance. It’s taking me a good half hour to get too and from it, and indeed I had to abandon a plan so see a play there today and there simply wasn’t enough time to get the next play where I already had a ticket. As it happens, this is suddenly less of an issue. Through a combination on unplanned events, most of the major venues have scattered to the four winds and the Poets is no longer as much of an outlier as it might have been.

However, as far as Sweet are concerns, they sees as many opportunities in this as there are challenges. Specifically, a move away from central Brighton is an opportunity to connect with a new community. One thing that is worth remembering (something that is frequently overlooked by people used to Edinburgh) is that most of the venues in Brighton are now year-round operations. Being a stone’s throw from other fringe venues is only an advantage one month every year; build up a link with a local community and it’s an advantage for the other eleven.

So far, Sweet is quite quite optimistic with how things are going. They do indeed seem to have attracted some Hovians as regulars, and sales so far at the fringe seem comparable to venues elsewhere: stronger sales weekends than weekdays; overall ticket sales fine but having to work harder to get the numbers. What does it mean for the fringe overall? To be honest, I’ve no idea. Thanks to the sudden dispersal of venues over Brighton, all bets are off. Come back in a year’s time before I attempt to answer that one.

Friday 20th May, 12.30 p.m. – The Formidable Lizzie Boone:

Review of The Formidable Lizzie Boone

As I mentioned last night, the standard of the plays I saw yesterday was exceptional. So expect high praise for the ones coming up. Any criticisms I make here can be considered the equivalent tips from how to get from four stars to five.

To start with, The Formidable Lizzie Boone. This is a bit of an unusual one in term of expectations. Depending on which publicity you read about the play, you can expect either a play about therapy or a play about burlesque. I was wondering how the two would combine. In fact, the play is very much about the former. Lizzie is coming to therapy because she thinks she may be a psychopath. This is her fourth therapist; we can only assume the other three failed to open up. A psychopath is not a fair description at all, but she has done a lot of things in her life that she’s ashamed of. She is also ashamed of a lot of things she has no reason to be ashamed of. So messed up are things that she is now running and hiding from the few good things happening in her life for once.

Selina Helliwell’s story of a this screwed up life is very convincing. Lizzie is not a bad person. Neither is there a single defining moment that causes her life to fall apart. Rather, it is a slippery slope. Small acts of thoughtlessness and petty cruelty from childhood snowball into bigger ones. Playground politics equates having red hair to being a slag. Unfortunately, Lizzie lives down to expectations in the naive belief she’ll fit in, and that only makes things worse. A lot worse. However, just as the catalogue of mistreatment is believable, Lizzie’s reaction to the world is always understandable. She has lost close friends when they found about about some of the worst things she’s done in her life – but in the context of what led her to do that, it’s more understandable.

Strangely enough, the thing which I could have offered more was the burlesque. Not more burlesque, but more impact in the story. The main function of this in the story is how her most worst partner of all reacts to it. There’s no surprises she ends up in such a toxic relationship – her life experiences to date have led her to believe this is normal behaviour – and the reaction of her partner to doing a burlesque strip show is pretty much what you’d expect it to be. But rather than just a plot point in the story of Lizzie’s latest bad relationship, this could easily have been a whole plot thread in its own right. Until now, Lizzie’s sex life has been almost entirely ne’er-do-wells using her as a sex object – here Lizzie gets to be the one in control. I realise we’re in a one-hour time limit here, and there’s no straightforward way of doing this, but there’s a lot you could do with what in effect is Lizzie’s therapy to regain some sort of self-esteem.

But remember, we are discussing how to get from four stars to five here. It’s ultimately part of a story of a woman pushed to the brink and finding herself again on her own terms, and as a whole it does an excellent job of this. Ultimately it’s a story about how good people can end up doing bad things and let bad things be done to them – and how to move on from this. There are two more performances of this at the Rotunda, one at 6.15 today and then a final one at 3.15 tomorrow. There a plenty of burlesque shows at Brighton Fringe, but see this for its story of finding yourself.

Friday 20th May, 10.30 a.m.:

My verdict of the Daily Diary

Now that I’ve had a better chance to use a Daily Diary, I can give a better verdict. I’m hearing mixed reactions to this change of format, but I wanted to see this for myself.

The first thing to say is that this is a big improvement on what was on offer the year before. It’s okay to use the website to find out details of shows, but in terms of planning an actual itinerary is was a massive faff. It really does help to see all the shows listed in order of time for the day you’re trying to plan for. Once you get used to this, you can check the venue and go to the map at the back. Essentially, this Daily Diary keeps the bits of the Brighton Programme that is used the most, and that does make sense.

From an accessibility point of view, one change is that by having Daily Diary and nothing else, it is possible to print the text at a reasonable font size, rather than the tiny typeface in the old programme needed to keep the size to something sane. However, this is offset by some pretty poor decisions on colour contrast. Teal text against a light grey background is easy enough to read in a well-lit room, but with low-light the in thing in most venues it’s a pain. One other small but irritating absence is the lack of any online version of the Daily Diary. For those of us unable to pop in person to pick up a paper copy, the online verson on issuu was a really handy resource. Please put that back.

What I think is most over-rated, however, is the integration with the website. Quite a bit thing was made of scanning QR codes to get the details on your phone. However, there is only one QR code per day, which takes to to basically with the website listing with the filter for that day selected. As we learned from last year, this is not easy to use. The daftest bit: it still lists online events running the whole fringe. Apologies for pointing out the obvious, but if you were looking for online you wouldn’t be using the Daily Diary in the first place. In addition, the page mixes up all categories in a random order and doesn’t show the times. I have to say, whether I’m looking for details of a specific show or the online version of a certain day, I find it much less of a faff to just load up the website and search manually.

Here’s my suggestions for how to improve this:

• Please don’t use low-contrast foreground on background. It creates a lot of problems for no benefit.
• Use the spare space in the listings for the grid code on the map. At the moment you have to look up the venue on the venue list and only then look up the map.
• Improve design for the website used in conjunction with QR codes. You can easily start by removing the online entries, and sorting events by category and time to match the order on paper.
• Further improvements could be one QR code per day/category combo (rather than just one per day), and showing times on the listings rather than clicking through to each entry.

It’s a start. If you use the experience of this year wisely you could come up with something a lot more useful. But at the moment, consider this very much a work in progress.

Thursday 19th May, 11.15 p.m.:

Anger festering over The Warren but an excellent standard of plays

Excuse the late update, but this evening I saw three plays back to back, with lengthy walks between the three venues. Just a quick update that this is quickly turning into a tale of two fringes.

Firstly: I’ve been keeping this to myself for the last 24 hours pending further information, but I’m now in a position to say that I’ve been hearing a lot of anger over The Warren. At this stage, I’m going to refrain from repeating details of what I’ve been hearing until and if I can get these claims verified, but what I can say is that if the worst of the complaints are true, it’s a lot more serious than the February statement from Brighton Fringe makes it out to be. I still want The Warren to sort things out and settle with the numerous artists with grievances – however, I will at this stage say that we must start contemplating the possibility that The Warren will not be around next year either. Things could get a lot worse before it gets better.

However, the good news is that based on the shows I’ve seen of Brighton Fringe so far, the standard has been exceptional. I have three reviews of excellent performances coming up for you, as soon as I have the time. What’s more, I’m seeing a lot of excellent reviews coming out elsewhere as well. One might think these are reviewers being kind after a difficult couple of years, but that was certainly not the case last year when I saw a liberal number of two stars floating about. No scientific analysis yet, but it may well be that the difficult circumstances surrounding Brighton Fringe are being offset but the high standard being viewed on stage.

Thursday 19th May, 5.30 p.m – The Unforgettable Anna May Wong:

Review of Anna May Wong

Whilst I’m waiting for Fringe to get going today, let’s get the other pending review out of the way. This is The Unforgettable Anna May Wong, one of Michelle Yim’s plays about historical women of East Asian ethnicity. I will declare straight up this is advertised as a work in progress. Not because the performance needs to be polished – indeed I saw now problems there, with Michelle Yim treating us to show tunes with a hitherto unknown musical performance. Rather, she is learning new things about the life of the real Anna May Wong and constantly working this into the story.

The ongoing question of monologues: who is the performer addressing? I have seen solo biopics that have unironically ending with “and then I died”. This one doesn’t beat about the bush and Anna May Wong welcomes herself to the Brighton Fringe audience as says she’s dead. She then briefly goes over the last relatively uneventful two decades of her life before going back to how she got into her heyday is a Hollywood star. Inevitably, being an east Aisan woman in early 20th century Hollywood cannot be ignored. It was possible to have a successful career, but there were quite specific idea of what actors of certain races should play. Anna May Wong had a successful career as a sex symbol (much to the disapproval of her more conservative Chinese descent peers – there is whole separate strand of film industry politics in play there), but it was a struggle to be anything different. One thing I’ve been learning about race relations in 20th century America is that is as well as the big things (such as segregations and the so-called “literary tests”), there was other things that were just fucking petty. In this case, it was the bizarre rule than you weren’t allowed to have a white man kissing an Asian woman in a film – something she made it her mission to defy.

One view I’m arriving at for biopics, however, is that it’s better to allow imagination to fill in the gaps that shy away when in doubt. It’s relatively easy to piece together what people did in their lives, but much harder to know for certain how they felt. To repeat what I’ve said before: this is a play, not a documentary. We may never know what made Anna May Wong tick, but I can see a lot of potential with her quest to win acceptance of her family. The strongest thread I see is her quest she give her sister the same success she has on the silver screen, only for it to backfire. But we only heard about this late in the play, when this narrative could have built up through the hour.

I am aware that earlier today I railed against plays that talk over historical figures to attribute opinions they may or may not have held – I liked Room specifically because there’s no doubt that’s what Virginia Woolf believed. This play quite rightly give Anna May Wong the same treatment here. However, I think you can take more artistic license on someone’s hopes and aspriations. I look forward to seeing what else there is to learn about this fascinating life – but don’t be afraid to let fiction step in whre we don’t have the facts.

Thursday 19th May, 1.00 p.m.:

A look at the Rotunda

Time now for a first report on venues. The biggest change to venues is of course the disappearance of The Warren. (More on this another time, but brace yourselves.) The other notable changes is Sweet relocating its primary venue to The Poet’s in Hove, the rise of Laughing Horse and the arrival of The Rotunda. Only the Rialto and Spiegeltent have stayed as they are. Anyway, the first venue I’ve checked out is The Rotunda. It turns out I was fed duff information earlier. “Bubble” and “Squeak” are not the existing tent split into two spaces, but two rotundas. If you’re not sure which one is which, remember that squeak is the noise a mouse makes, and mice are small, and this is the smaller space.

Why two domes instead of one? It turns out they’ve been very popular for a new venue. That’s unusual – I don’t remember many pop-up spaces being oversubscribed in Englandtheir first year – but The Rotunda already has already built a reputation outside of Brighton. Buxton, of course, a few other festivals around the country, and whilst their use as a space at Edinburgh Fringe wasn’t really their programme, that must have counted in their favour. The result was that one space was hopelessly over-subscribed, so they took on a second smaller dome specifically for Brighton to keep up with demand. That, incidentally, was all before The Warren’s woes, and they were pretty much full before Warren refugees started looking for new homes.

The result of this is that, unlike Buxton which was the tent and not much else, in Brighton it’s looking more like a full venue in its own right, with the outside hoardings advertising all the events like we’re used to with Warren and Spiegeltent. However, Ross and Michelle are not trying to imitate these venues – many people criticised these two venues for being drinking spots first and arts venues second, and they don’t want to go the same way. There is currently no bar at the Rotunda, and as I understand it that’s a possibility for the future, but a low priority. There’s various complications with licensing, keeping the neighbours happy in this residential area, and staying on good terms with the nearby pub. I do hope they can find the right balance though – as I said earlier, the best venues are ones that are communities as well as performance spots.

The down-side? Apparently the wind’s been a bigger problem that everyone expected. When the Rotunda set up in Buxton, everyone made jokes about the tent blowing away. That turned out to never be a problem. But, for some reason, Regency Square is acting as a bit of a wind tunnel. It’s all be fine now, but it was hard work securing all of this.

Anyway, so far, so good. And depending on how events go elsewhere, The Rotunda has arrived when Brighton needs it most.

Thursday 19th May, 10.30 a.m. – Room:

Review of Room

Enough commentary, let’s get started with the reviews. It’s Room, which is going to be an unusual one to review. Heather Alexander has adapted A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf. What she didn’t mention is that this text is not – as is the case with every other adaptation since time memorial – a novel, or a short story, or any kind of story at all, save for a recollection of a visit to an unspecified Oxbridge college. This is an essay. In the same same that George Orwell’s essays are so highly regarded they form part of his literary canon, A Room of One’s Own does too.

There is a good reason for this. A Room of One’s Own was pretty on point for its day. Originally delivered as a lecture delivered twice to the only two women’s colleges that existed at Cambridge University, it began with an observation that women’s colleges in Oxbridge, step in the right direction though they may be, were still a second-rate service compared to the men’s world. The focus, however, is the position of women in literature, as characters in story but more notably as the authors, or rather lack of them. She was one of the first to observe the era from Austen to the Brontës, women normally wrote anonymously. It wasn’t so much that society disapproved (indeed the only bit of her identity that Austen disclosed on her first book was that she was a lady novelist), but the expected repercussions, real or perceived, from those who’d have no wife/daughter/sister of theirs taking up writing.

However, this is a review. We are not here to discuss the arguments of Virginia Woolf’s non-fiction essay, we are here to discuss the theatrical performance of it. To be honest, we’re at a bit of a blank page here. I guess the first question is to ask what a stage adaptation offers that the text doesn’t. Why not just read the essay? The obvious thing: perform it as Virginia Woolf, with the passion and conviction the real Virginia Woolf would have had – that is without a doubt Heather Alexander’s strong point the give this play its mark. The play is mostly delivered as Woolf giving the lecture, but it’s not an exact reproduction, but, it’s face it, standing still at a lectern for an hour would get a bit boring. Instead, the performance is done more as solo play, with the same liberties taken on moving through time and location as we’re used to in standard solo plays, which works here.

It is normal to rate plays against others of the same genre and format. Here, it’s closer to say Heather Alexander has invented a new genre and format. It’s probably fair to say that you’re best off going into this play understanding what this is an adaptation of, but I managed to work out what was going on so I wouldn’t worry about that too much.

What I will say is this: there’s a trend amongst some in theatre that annoys me. For all the talk about giving a voice to writers, usually women, some try to use this to attribute their own views to a respected historical figure who’d probably never heard of these issues. I remember one adaption attempting to give Mary Shelley a voice on what she’d have thought about Brexit and Trump. To be honest, the end result was incomprehensible, but even if there had been a clear message – so what? That’s not Mary Shelley’s voice, that a writer and director talking over a woman who can’t answer back. This is the right way to do this, and I recommend this play as something different which respects the voice of an influential figure the right way.

Wednesday 18th May, 10.30 p.m.:

Weekdays versus mid-week

So that’s the end of Day 1. Been chatting to people at two venues and there’s quite a lot of food for thought. For now, I’ll stick with a simple one on business.

It does look like there’s a sharp contrast in business between the beginning of the week and the end of the week. Monday-Wednesday has so far been quiet, but Friday-Sunday has been quite good. (Thursday also seems to pick up business, but we only have one Thursday to go on so far.) In fact, at least one venue is disputing the description from Paul Levy of FringeReview of a quiet opening weekend. That does seem to be different to pre-2020. Weekends have always been busier than weekdays, but there does seem to be a more marked difference than before.

Still getting to grips with how Fringe 2022 difference from Fringe 2019. Seems the dust has not settled just yet.

And that’s all for today. Join me tomorrow when I get on to business and write my first review.

Wednesday 18th May, 5.30 p.m.:

My first look at the daily diary

I’m here. My first press ticket is in 45 minutes so this will have to be quick, but I’ve pick up my Daily Diary. I’m currently playing around with QR codes and I will report back to you on that later.

However, there is something I’ve noticed from the Daily Diary that wasn’t clear from the website. There was a time when Brighton Fringe was a weekend-centric festival. Everything happened after 6 on a weekday and all day weekends because, we presume, a lot of the potential audience are locals who work during the day. In the 2010s as the fringe noticeable expanded, the start times started drifting earlier, and afternoon slots were perfectly feasible.

Suddenly, we’re back to 6 p.m. starts on weekdays. And it’s not clear why. It’s difficult to do a venue-by-venue comparison from 2019 because most of the venues are very different from 2019 in one way or another. The one thing I’d rule out as a cause is The Warren pulling out at the last moment, because almost all of the programming would have been done before the other venues knew this was going to happen. Other than that, I’m puzzled. I will try to see how individual venues have handled timings, but there’s no way I’m going to try speculating.

Wednesday 18th May, 2.30 p.m.:

Daily Diary: the story so far

One thing I intend to check out sooner rather than later is this Brighton Fringe “Daily Diary”.

Last year, none of the main fringes did conventional programmes. Brighton and Edinburgh were out of the question, giving how last-minute the programme was. Buxton Fringe, I believe, was uhmming and ahhing about this but eventually decided there was took much risk of late changes to make it worthwhile. Anyway, having worked out the hard way how to run a fringe without a programme, the question arose of whether this should be made permanent. After all, paper programmes came into being before you could look up shows online. And – especially in the case of Edinburgh – the printing costs of the programme were swiftly become the most expensive bit of the fringe.

The argument against? Relying on the website alone turned out to be a bigger faff than anyone expected. Information which we’d got used to scanning down the page in a paper programme required a hell of a lot of clicks to locate the same information online. From the perspective of my day job, Brighton and Edinburgh Fringes should have done some usability testing. A mistake made by countless organisations is to design a website assuming – on paper – that people will use it exactly the way they expected. That mistake is forgivable – what is less forgivable is the web designers angrily doubling down on the design when it becomes when it’s not living up to reality. But that’s a moot point now. No-one is sticking to web-only in 2022. The surprise is which one of the three didn’t stick to the status quo.

There was never any doubt that Buxton would revert to a paper programme – it’s not a big or costly programme, and apparently a lot of regulars are adamant that’s their preferred medium. Edinburgh, however, has reverted to the paper programme too, even though theirs costs way more. This might have something to do with wanting the full works for their 75th anniversary – I suspect they also want the message that the fringe is back to business after a cancelled 2020 and a severely depleted 2021. Whether they’ll still want to stick with in in 2023 remains to be seen.

It is Brighton, not Edinburgh, who has broken ranks. They has a “Daily Diary” which lists when shows are performing by time. It’s fair to say this is the most used part of the paper programme – it’s no big deal to look up details of a show online, but if you want a quick decision on what to see today, there’s no substitute for a list of what’s on today sorted by time. (In fact, this applies even more to Edinburgh, which is why I think scrapped their daily guide in the late 2000s was a mistake.) Apparently there’s a QR code next to each entry to allow you to look things up online.

That’s the theory, anyway. Will this work in practice? I hope to have an answer in the next few days.

Wednesday 18th May, 11.45 a.m.:

A rule change for who I review

And a warm hello from somewhere on the Selby Diversion line between York and Doncaster. I am running to schedule and expect to be around some time 4 p.m. I could have arrived earlier, but contrary to what Andy Burnham seems to think, most of us don’t wilfully travel at the most expensive time of the day so we can screech about how expensive it was.

Now, before we get stuck in I have a housekeeping announcement about reviews. For the last few years, I’ve had a rule in place for Edinburgh that I generally don’t consider for review: stand-up comedy, dance and – more recently added to the list – classic theatre (which roughly means anything earlier than Wilde/Shaw). It’s not that I dislike these – on the contrary, I’ve loved some of these event – but more that I don’t go to enough of these things and/or understand them well enough to do a proper job of reviewing. Outside of Edinburgh, I’ve been more relaxed with the rules, but at the Edinburgh Fringe, where my schedule is jam-packed, every show I see for review means another show not seen and not getting a review. I wish I could review everything I was asked to but I can’t, so I use the time I have to review the things where I think I can deliver the most benefit.

Well, the time has finally come for Brighton. Until last year, only a minority of plays were seen on press tickets, and I was comfortably able to accommodate pretty much everything, just so long as it was running on the right days. This time, however, I have had loads of requests and had to be a lot more organised. I’m not sure exactly what it is since 2019 that changed things, but I suspect it has something to do with me being one of the few people who carried on reviewing in what was left of the 2020 fringe. Once again, I am hugely grateful to everyone who has shown interest, because it motivates me a lot to know what I have to say is valued. It’s just a shame I have to respond to this by saying “no” more often.

Okay, we are past Doncaster. Will drop in again when I’m approaching Brighton.

Tuesday 17th May:

The future of Arts Council England and content warnings

Almost time. This time tomorrow I will be joining you.

Before then, there have been some jitters over yesterday’s announcement by the government to review “arm’s length” bodies, specifically Arts Council England. This has led to a panic that the government’s about to pull funding on the arts. I don’t think that’s likely – if the government wanted to kill off the arts, it had more than enough chances in the last two years. All they had to do was sit on their hands as finances went down the pan.

No, what they are considering doing is even worse. The review consider whether the functions of the body are appropriately taken by the body under review. And we know from experience that this particular government doesn’t independent public bodies making decisions that don’t go its way. I could easily see them replacing Arts Council England with another body that’s the same except that it’s run by yes-men, who then allocate the lion’s share of the funding to more yes-men. And, unfortunately, I fear that the theatre world has already handed to them several excuses they’re looking for. I am racking my brains for the best why to respond to this – I was say more when I have some ideas.

Now that you’re all feeling depressed, let’s change the subject. In 2019 Brighton Fringe introduced content warnings on its web listing. There were impossible to not view if you wanted to know when a play was on, and sometimes the content warning gave away what they play was about. This time, they have move more to Edinburgh’s system of less specific content warnings in categories (so it might have “triggering content” without saying exactly that content is). I have separate reservations with this.

I have my own dilemma. I have an online play coming with with an absolutely massive content warning attached to it, but it would not be possible to tell you what it is without giving away the whole plot in advance. Well, I think I’ve got the answer on how we should handle content warnings, and the source of my inspiration is an unlikely one: a website called “Does the Dog Die?” Yes, I’m serious. Curious as to what I’m on about. Come to this blog post.

Monday 16th May:

What’s coming up in week 2

Welcome to week 2. In two day’s time, I will be joining you. Until then, once more, let’s see what’s coming up.

Out of all the plays I’ve seen before, the headliner has to be Jekyll and Hyde: A One-Woman Show. This went down very well in the last two years and is back for another encore. Heather-Rose Andrew is the perfect female Jekyll/Hyde and indeed the play was written specifically for her. It might not be quite what you think though. A lot of these gender-swap stories try to stand out by focusing on what makes a female character different; here, it stands out by how much is the same, including the bits of the original that you wouldn’t expect to be workable the other way round. You need to concentrate on this, but it’s worth it alone for the transformation. Starts today and runs until Sunday.7.30 p.m. at Sweet at the Poet’s.

Whilst we’re on the subject of Sweet at the Poet’s, in case you haven’t already noted so, be aware this is in Hove. Not the definition of Hove we’ve got used to for Brighton Fringe which meant slightly west of the Brighton Town Centre (west of the angel peace statue, to be precise) – this is Hove Hove, near the station of that name. There’s an interesting wider pattern of decentralisation of the fringe that I will explore another time, but for now, do not make the mistake of assuming you can be easily pop from central Brighton in the venue in 10 minutes.

Later in the week, we’ve got a couple of notable plays at the Rotunda. Michelle Yim’s other play, The Unforgettable Anna May Wong starts on Wednesday. I previously saw The Empress and Me and the notable thing about these biopic plays is that you can’t try predicting them in advance. Real life is complicated, and a life story always has something in it that’s counter-intuitive. The Wednesday performance is at 7.45 p.m., and there’s two more on Saturday and Sunday at 6.15 p.m. Meanwhile, The Formidable Lizzie Boone from Selena Helliwell runs Thursday, Friday and Saturday at 7.45, 6.15 and 3.15 respectively. It’s a play about with burlesque in but apparently not a burlesque show as such. In intrigued, but everyone was raving about this at Greater Manchester Fringe which looks promising.

And finally, on Thursday and Friday, you can see Alasdair Beckett-King’s work-in-progress comedy Nevermore. Probably easiest to just link you to the video to see his humour (usually parody, pedanticism, or a delightful hybrid of both) so enjoy watching ever Scandi-noir thriller ever, as crimes are solved by detective Bjårn Hjuredessönssönssönssönssön, or something like that.

Right, 1.45. See you in 50 hours.

Sunday 15th May:

Accommodation problems at Edinburgh

I will at some point be looking ahead to fringes other than the big two. I don’t have much unexpected to say about Buxton Fringe, but I may shortly have something interesting to say about Durham Fringe. On this occasion, there is something I know that I’m not telling you yet, but I should be able to reveal soon.

However, before I get into the thick of Brighton, I’m going to take a second look at a headache facing Edinburgh. There has already been a row over workers’ rights and alleged exploitation of volunteers; I’ve already given my thoughts on the latest situation back in April (short answer: there is no short answer – there’s a lot of complicated issues to unpick). However, there’s possibly a bigger problem emerging, and that is accommodation. I’ve long said that the cost of festivals is heavily influenced by supply and demand, and it doesn’t pay to try to disregard this. Unfortunately, this is exactly what a lot of landlords are doing and I think this is going to end in tears.

One problem with Edinburgh Fringe is there simply isn’t enough city to accommodate all the acts who want to take part. The Festival Fringe Society has pledged to find more affordable accommodation, but in the meantime some landlords have taking it on themselves to acquire properties for the sole purpose of letting out over August, with anyone else who wants to live there having to make do with an 11-month let. Needless to say, that does not go down well with locals. However, business of course crashed through the floor in 2020 and 2021. We are now hearing reports of such landlords chasing their losses and ramping up fees in 2022. And, so far, many acts have responded by saying “fuck this” and not taking part.

For what it’s worth, the worst thing that the Festival Fringe Society could do would be to appease this. I hope the advice given to acts is to either find reasonably-priced accommodation (which at least some of the venues are trying to do), or just not take part. The best defence I can offer for these landlords? A lot of people who buy property have this as their only reliable source of income and may well be facing hardship after two years of no business through no fault of their own. I almost sympathise, but there’s no getting round the fact that the people they’re trying to get money from are also facing hardship after two years of no business through no fault of their own. The last thing we want is Edinburgh accommodation operating as a cartel where they name their price and everyone else has no option but to cough up.

I am sceptical the Festival Fringe Society can deliver the affordable accommodation it wants to, but they might. If they don’t, this might be the thing that causes the endless growth bubble to finally burst. I can easily see this being the thing that finally prompts artist and the arts industry and the arts press to realise that Edinburgh Fringe is not the be all and end all and you don’t have to let landlords name their price. This could get really ugly. I could easily see landlords digging their heels in, and let properties go empty rather than give in to groups offering less than the asking price. It might cause Edinburgh Fringe’s size to crash for a few years. There might even be a property market crash in Edinburgh for a few years. If I was on Edinburgh City Council I would be worried about this.

If we absolutely must have a landlord bailout to avoid something this drastic, it had better come with a lot of conditions on rent controls in future years. But, to be honest, if it does come to the catastrophic scenario I’ve hypothesised, I won’t complain too much.The Edinburgh Fringe will adapt and survive. And if the landlords go bankrupt, I’m afraid that’s a price I’m prepared for them to pay.

Saturday 14th May:

The strange reappearance of The Warren

Small but strange observation: the Electric Arcade is running events after all – just not as part of Brighton Fringe. What is going on here?

The context: Electric Arcade is supposed to be The Warren’s year-round venue. Just like the Rialto runs year-round and Sweet runs at least one of its venues year-round (currently The Poets), this was supposed to be The Warren’s way of sticking around outside of a big pop-up venue in May. It was also going to serve as a couple of spaces at Brighton Fringe. So far, this hasn’t happened – in 2020 the Warren ran independently of Brighton Fringe with The Warren Outdoors, and in 2021 those two small spaces were probably a bad idea. 2022 might have been Electric Arcades debut but we know what happened there. Except it is running after all.

Now, it is only fair to remind everyone that Brighton Fringe is not the government of Brighton culture. The may be able to set rules of codes of conduct for venues, but they most certainly do not (and absolutely should not) have the power to ban venues from operating without their say-so. Even so, wasn’t The Warren supposed to be taking time out to get its finances in order? Also, the Electric Arcade’s programme is called “EA in May” which I don’t believe is a coincidence. On the other hand, a year-round venue doesn’t stop costing you money if you halt operations and you might need income. I’m also wondering if this was doing used as a refuge from homeless Warren acts who, let’s be fair, didn’t get much chance to find new homes when Brighton Fringe didn’t budge from their deadline.

I guess what I’m really interested in is what’s been going on. For the record, I do sometimes have inside information given to me in confidence on what the goss is with venues, but in the case of The Warren, I assure you I am just as much in the dark on this is you are. There is nothing I know that I’m not telling you. In particular, whose decision was it really to pull the plug on Warren 2022? Otherplace Productions or Brighton Fringe? The latter would set an important (and potentially very messy) precedent for the Edinburgh Fringe where the issue of worker rights is way more controversial. I’ll see what I can find out that’s a) verifiable, and b) doesn’t betray confidentiality. But, boy, we may not have heard the last of this.

Friday 13th May:

Weekend 2 and a look at online fringe

We’re approaching weekend 2, so it’s time for another look at what’s coming up. Nothing new from the theatre section this week, but we do have a couple of new comedy entries on my radar. Biscuit Barrel come to the Rialto theatre for their hyperactive sketch show. I hosted this troupe at Durham Fringe and it was one of the highlights in the closing phases of the festival. 9.45 tonight and tomorrow, and I’m hoping this will include the Mickey Mouse Smoothie. We also have the return of Privates who I last saw doing a war movie but with sperms. This is the more family-friendly Great Ideas by Geniuses at the Spiegeltent/ Saturday and Sunday at 4.00 in the Spiegeltent.

We also have the return of 80s pop diva Yasmine Day’s stunning comeback / embarrassing failure (delete as applicable) with Songs in the Key of Me (9.00 p.m. Junkyard Dogs tonight) and a final performance from Crime Scene Improvisation (5.30p.m. Sunday, Laughing Horse @ The Walrus). Apologies for the content warning on CSI, by the way: “we cannot predict the input of live audience members.” I think that might have been me.

As well an Eleanor Conway’s ongoing Talk Dirty to Me, we also have Blue Devil’s The Tragedy of Dorian Gray online. If you didn’t catch it last year I recommend catching up on this, as it’s a clever retelling of the Oscar Wilde story, told in the way he way well liked to have told it but couldn’t. However, as whole, the online section of the programme is pretty small compared to last year. Online theatre at festival fringes has persisted a lot longer than many of us predicted, forming a substantial part of the programmes for Edinburgh and Brighton. However, I sensed the writing was on the wall at both these fringes when the overwhelming mood was that it was good to be back to the real thing. Neither did the sales figures help, especially at Edinburgh. Sales for the few in-person shows were excellent (albeit inflated persisted by an audience being shared amongst a small number of shows), but online was typically only attracting 30 or so views.

I’m not ruling out the complete disappearance of online shows though. Living Record, who formed a large part of Brighton Fringe’s online programme, might not be taking part this year but still had its own festival in January and February. There’s still a lot of things online theatre can potentially do that in-person can’t. We saw that – evening with the controversially high registration fees – online provided a much cheaper option than in-person for Brighton and Edinburgh. Small fringes such as Buxton are also cheap, but perhaps online is a different entry-level option. There also the back catalogue of old fringe shows – much as I loved some of them, no-one can tour the country indefinitely, whilst a recorded play has longevity. Finally, there’s the option for online theatre to do things in-person can’t. Pedantically you can argue that’s not really theatre. But it’s a performing art and there’s no reason why theatre makers should be confined to just theatre.

My forecast is that online theatre’s role in festival fringes will decline further. Most fringegoers have firmly made online their plan B. It will eventually be just the occasional production that the big venues use to complement in-person programmes with something different that can’t be done on live stages. (I suspect Summerhall will be keen on this.) However, I can see online having a future separately from the fringes with its own online communities. Exactly what this will look like is up in the air and it will take a lot of trial and error, but don’t close this chapter just yet.

Thursday 12th May:

A look towards Sweet @ the Poets and The Rotunda

We haven’t yet talked about the elephant in the room. That is, of course, the shitshow that led to the disappearance of The Warren. If you haven’t done so already, you can read it in the opening of my preview. I intend to check this further: primarily what happened to all the acts supposed to perform there, and also – if my spies are really on the ball – what went wrong in the first place.

But that can come later. Right now, I want to focus on some positives with new venues. One thing we don’t consider much is whether a venue is more than a performance space. The primary job of any venue is somewhere to perform and see performances, but do people stick around before and after performances? Is there a sense of community? The big socialising areas provided by Spiegeltent (and, until this year, The Warren) are a great way to show Brighton Fringe is here, but that’s not quite the same thing. You do have performers and punters mingling, but this is diluted by the multitude of people who come for drinking and partying.

For this reason, I’m actually quite excited by Sweet Brighton’s new home. Sweet have actually got back to me about their move to the Poets, and whilst the circumstances for moving may have been out of their hands, they’re quite upbeat about the result. My own reason for feeling positive? I miss the Dukebox. That venue with the Iron Duke was a nice little hub that had exactly the kind of community built up I was talking about. Sweet did their best with Werks Central (and the coffee bar normally used for creative businesses was a very handy thing to have there), but it was never quite the same. I have yet to see what Sweet @ The Poets is like, but it looks set up ideally to work how the Dukebox did, both in its immediate role as a performance space and its wider place as part of a fringe community.

I’m also interested to see how the Rotunda takes to Brighton. I now have confirmation that “Bubble” and “Squeak” does indeed mean the Rotunda has been spilt into two spaces. The Rotunda never really tried being anything other than performance space at Buxton Fringe, but to be fair there wasn’t really much of a point to that – The Old Clubhouse was a stone’s throw away, already functioning as a hub for the entire fringe. However, Regency Square is a location the Rotunda has all to itself. I will be interested to see how they respond to think. Stick with what works or aim for something more?

Anyway, that’s the theory, how does this work in practice? I will be seeing this for myself next week.

Wednesday 11th May:

Latest news on Edinburgh’s size

It’s not just Brighton Fringe I am commentating on – I will also be looking ahead to the other fringes, plus anything else important that happens during this time. The big news, of course, is what’s going on with Edinburgh. Last year the prospects for Edinburgh Fringe looked alarming and bleak, thanks to a highly questionable decision by the Scottish Government to set absurdly prohibitive social distancing rules for theatres but not pubs. They backed down to a sane compromise very late in the day, by which time it was too late for many acts to make plans. However, against the odds (and, to be fair, with some financial support from the Scottish government), Edinburgh Fringe pulled together at the last moment and managed a token presence.

And so Edinburgh Fringe 2022 is on course to return to some sort of normality. Unlike Brighton Fringe, however, there’s little appetite to go completely back to how things were before. There’s an all-round consensus that 3,800 acts was too many – few people say a limit should be enforced, but nobody’s encouraging a repeat of 2019. However, for the time being this looks like a moot point. When the first batch of tickets went on sale in March, there were only 300 shows. Then it went up to 800 in April and last week went up to 2,000. There is one final batch coming up on June 7th, and whilst it is not impossible to get another 1,800, this seems unlikely, as all the major venues have done most of their programming and are now filling in gaps.

The current mood is that we’re heading for a 2022 fringe size comparable to the mid-2000s. If that is the case, one would think that would relieve considerable pressure on the city of Edinburgh. In the case of accommodation, it might not be so simple – I will come back to that another day as it’s an issue in its own right. From an audience point of view, however, it might feel similar to before. The Birghton Fringe of 2017-2019 was visibly a much larger event than a few years before when it was half the size. But even though my first Edinburgh Fringe in 2006 was only about half the size of the 2019 peak – that didn’t feel much different. I guess if it’s fringe fringe and more fringe as far as the eye can see, the overall size doesn’t make much difference as to the (perceived) experience.

However, there is one footnote to this that might be worth considering. In years gone by, it was normal for acts to run the entire festival, and deemed all but compulsory if you wanted to be noticed. Acts that ran for a shorter time were either beginners who were more interested in dipping their toe in Edinburgh than being noticed, and highly established acts who don’t need noticing any further. This time, however, I’d say only about half of the acts are running the full fringe. Please treat my observation with caution, because I have not done any proper analysis to confirm this is the case – indeed, the media notoriously formed this consensus in a previous fringe that turned out to be completely wrong. But if this is correct, this will matter. Do you really need to run the full length of the fringe? If we discover the two-week runs perform as well as the four-week runs (with half the accommodation expense), that will turn things on its head.

Tuesday 10th May:

Early news of ticket sales

And we have our first bit of news from Brighton. And it’s not great. This has come via Paul Levy of FringeReview, who in turn is basing this off anecdotal accounts from the venues, but if he is right, the opening weekend on Brighton Fringe has been, in his words, “quiet” as far as ticket sales are concerned. There are plenty of signs of activity in the venues, but the most visible parts are drinking, eating, and socialising. This is apparently not translating into selling tickets. We haven’t yet heard anything from Brighton Fringe itself, but there is a tendency of fringes in general to shout from the rooftops when sales are going well and keep quiet the rest of the time.

Does this matter? Few people go into a fringe expecting to make a profit. I advise anyone who’s new to Fringe to budget with a projected income of zero. It’s never that bad, but if gives you a worse-case baseline that your finances should be able to withstand. Of course, it’s nicer to perform to a big audience than a small one, but as I like to remind everyone, I got my first professional break off the back of a Brighton Fringe performance to an audience of three. However, a lot of more experienced acts know what sort of ticket income they can rely of on what’s worthwhile. Disappointing news of ticket sales one year raises questions over whether projects are worthwhile the next. Perhaps you can run a fringe entirely on beginners with zero expectations of sales, but without more experienced groups being part of the community it would be a different experience.

A little more concerning is what happens with venues. No-one’s under threat of going bust. Nevertheless, ticket sales one year is an indication on whether it’s worth upsizing or downsizing next year. Whilst there’s no rules against doing a fringe play in a community hall you hired yourself, the combined capacity of the managed venues does have a lot of influence of how big a fringe is (with many acts preferring to give up if there’s no slots at managed venues going, if Buxton’s experience is anything to go by). The counter-argument is that actually ticket sales don’t matter that much, because in the ancillary income such as bar sales which really count. That, however, carries its own concerns. There’s already worries that the big venues at Edinburgh and Brighton are becoming drinking establishments first and performing arts venues second. The last thing we want is programming based on who draws in the most drinkers.

As far as I can tell, we’re not at any sort of crisis point. Another time, I will have a think about why this has happened. I confident we will get to the end of this fringe with everyone having a good time (or a stress-induced panic-fest, which many of us consider the same thing). But it might have implications for next year’s fringe. But what implications? And will they be a good thing or a bad thing? At the moment, it’s anyone’s guess.

Monday 9th May:

Coming up in week one

It’s the start of week one, and with that time for our first look at what’s on mid-week.

Long-standing fringe stalwarts Pretty Villain have started their run of The God of Carnage. This is written by Yasmina Resa, best known for Art. This time, instead of an argument over a stupid painting we have a confrontation between parents over one child attacking another, but it looks like once again the showdown will say more about the people arguing over the issue than the issue itself. The first performance was yesterday afternoon, but there’s another three from Tuesday to Saturday at 8.00 p.m. at the Rialto Theatre.

Meanwhile, over at the Rotunda we have most of the performances of The Ballad of Mulan, promised to be an undisneyfied version of the Chinese legend. If you’re wondering why Ross Ericson and Michelle Yim have so many shows on this year, it’s because they’ve brought along their own venue. There will be a lot of other opportunities to see numerous plays of theirs at the Rotunda, but we can get started with this one, running Tuesday to Thursday at 7.45 p.m. I will be keeping a keen eye on the Rotunda because this could be a game-changer for the fringe circuit, but this can keep you busy for now.

There is one other fringe listing that’s notable. You don’t need to rush here, and the reason you don’t is the reason it’s notable. Eleanor Conway’s show Talk Dirty to Me is running the entire fringe. That’s unprecedented. It’s was normal for Edinburgh Fringe shows to run the entire festival, but the only show I’ve seen do this before is The Lady Boys of Bangkok. That, however, is practically a venue/festival in its own right. The conventional wisdom has always been that – whilst the ever-changing visiting audience at Edinburgh can sustain an audience for a month – Brighton’s audience is local and after a week everyone who is thinking of seeing it will have gone. Is Eleanor Conway about to turn conventional wisdom on its head.

Whatever the outcome, she’s earned a plug. Eleanor Conway’s routine is heavily themed about sex positivity and why it’s okay to be over 40 and childless if that’s what you want. I really don’t understand why so many people have exact views on what other people should be doing with life decisions such as this one, but for some reason they are are obsessed with it. This runs at Laughing Horse at the Walrus, either 9.15 p.m. or 9.30 p.m. depending on the dates, and on some days she does a matinee too. Bold move, so good luck.

Incidentally, the conventional wisdom about running a full festival at Edinburgh has been thrown into question this year, but that is a topic for another day.

Sunday 8th May:

Looking ahead to ticket sales and housekeeping

One of the earliest things to look out for is how the ticket sales for the opening weekend went. This is especially important in years where the size of a festival fringe has radically grown or shrunk. We might know how the size of the fringe as changed, but how has the size of the audience changed? Does it sustain the new size.

No info on the bigger picture yet, but one interesting tidbit I picked up is that one show (Reach for the Lasers) sold out its opening night. Sell-outs aren’t that unusual if the name already has a big following or if word-of-mouth publicity boosts sales during the run – but it’s unusual to do this in advance of the run. Anyone who gets a sell-out is doing something right, but it’s an early sign that there’s plenty of audience to go round. If and when I have any more reliable figures, I will come back to this.

And now, one housekeeping notice. I have received A LOT of review requests for this fringe. I will do by best to accommodate these, but this is likely to come down largely to luck. I will be at Brighton in person on the 15th-19th May and again on the 27th-28th (plus, at a push, the earlier half of the 20th). In the meantime, I have sent acknowledgements to everyone who sent a review request prior to the start of the fringe. (Sorry I can’t reply personally to everyone, but this is the only way I can keep up.) If you have not received an acknowledgement, please get in touch now, because this probably means I never got your request.

And, yet again, I really appreciate this. I have never actively pursued press requests, but back home it can sometimes feel like the in crowd considers you to not be a “proper” reviewer. And yes, I know I haven’t exactly made many friends by saying what I think instead of saying everything’s awesome, but it can get dispiriting sometimes. It’s these gestures that make me feel valued. So please don’t feel you’re wasting my time – I just wish I could do more in return.

Saturday 7th May:

My recommendations for Brighton Fringe 2022

As for the rest of the fringe, I have my light of highlights completed. You can come over to What’s worth watching: Brighton Fringe 2022 to see what I rate, or look at the quick list here. (No particular ranking: apologies to anyone getting excited over being listed first.)

Safe choice:

Testament of Yootha
Under Milk Wood: Semi-Skimmed
God of Carnage
The Tragedy of Dorian Gray [Online]

Bold choice:

The Ballad of Mulan
Yasmine Day: Songs in the key of me
Jekyll and Hyde: A one-woman show
The Last
Underdogs

You might like …

Betsy: Wisdom of a Brighton Whore
The Event
Lionhouse Cabaret

Wildcards:

Fragile
The Formidable Lizzie Boone

From the comedy:

Crime Scene Improvisation
Biscuit Barrel: No time to digestive
Privates: Great Ideas by Geniuses
Alasdair Beckett-King: Nevermore
Aidan Goatley: Tenacious

Also of note:

Elanor Conway: Talk Dirty to Me (more about this shortly)

But remember: this is a preview, not a shortlist. At every fringe, some of the best things I’ve seen are plays I’ve never seen before by groups I’ve never heard of. Who will be rated a pick of the fringe that I don’t yet know about?

Stay with me for the next month to find out.

Friday 6th May:

Coming up in weekend 1 …

Before my arrival on the 15th May, I will be monitoring Brighton Fringe from afar. In particular, I am interested to hear how Brighton Fringe fares without its centrepiece venue. Before that, however, let’s take a look at what’s coming up in the first weekend.

My highlight starting tonight is your first of three Fridays to see Yasmine Day: Songs in the Key of Me. I saw Jay Bennet’s creation of this deluded power-ballad diva-wannabe at her launch in Buxton Fringe 2018, but behind the comedy of her ridiculous grandiose ideas is a somewhat tragic tale of a washed-up singer – and as this has developed, we’ve been getting a darker story where Yasmine is her own worst enemy, unable to let go of lifelong grudges. 9.00 p.m. at Junkyard Dogs at the Round Georges.

Starting tomorrow is Betsy: Wisdom of a Brighton Whore, probably the all-time most successful play from Jonathan Brown. If you are a regular Brighton visitor it is worth catching up on some point and the strange history of the town – a lot of what makes Brighton unique today can be traced back to the era of George VI – and this play is a good way of learning about it. Runs this Saturday and Sunday at Brighton Fishing museum, and don’t worry, that’s not in sticks, but right next to the pier.

And on Sunday we have the first of two performances from Crime Scene Improvisation. I’ve been learning a lot about improv comedy over the last year and been impressed by the high standard, but thing I’ve noticed about this group is, when they make a mistake, not only do they make it funny, they also make it part of the rest of the show. Sadly I don’t have time to explain why Molly-Molly-Shoe-Shoe was such a funny joke last year. This is at Laughing Horse @ The Walrus at 4 p.m. Be advised through, this is a much smaller venue than The Warren where they performed last year, so you might want to book this early to be on the safe side.

However, the bad news is that Wired Theatre are not performing this weekend, or any weekend, due to a member of cast withdrawing from the production. This is indeed a shame, considering how determined they are the put on something every year. Anyway, for those of you already at Brighton, enjoy yourselves and keep me informed.

Thursday 5th May:

Welcome!

It’s the eve of Brighton Fringe 2022, and welcome to my live coverage. I won’t be coming to Brighton until the 18th May, but until then I will be keeping track of how England’s largest fringe is unfolding from afar.

After a 2020 fringe that struggled on against all odds, and an impressive 2021 fringe that looked set to catapult Brighton Fringe back to full strength, the 2022 fringe was all set to be back to full strength. There was even a moment when it was possible it might overtake Edinburgh. However, just when it looked like everything was going Brighton’s way, there was a big setback. As a result, we have a third consecutive fringe that is going to look very different from what we were used to.

You can read all about what went wrong in my Brighton Fringe preview. But you can also read about all the acts I am looking forward to. For now, let’s put this setback to the side and get busy with all the acts and venues that are here.

Edinburgh Fringe 2021 – as it happens

Friday 3rd September:

Hold it! Hold it! Hold it! Before you go, one small but crucial stat. I don’t know how The Stage managed to get hold of this when no-one else seems to have the numbers, but it looks like there are fringe-wide figures for ticket sales after all. And, crucially, they separate in-person and online.

So, it’s 381,192 tickets for 528 in-person productions, compared to 3,012,490 in 3,841 productions in 2019. This means the fringe is 12.6% the size of 2019 if we’re going on ticket sales, or 13.7% in terms of number of in-person registrations. We were expecting both figures to be hammered, so there’s little surprise there. The important figure, however, is sales per production. That’s 722 per production in 2021, slightly down from 784 per production in 2019.

But but but but but but but but – almost all productions in 2021 didn’t run the full festival, which in 2019 most did. A lot of them ran for half the festival. We don’t appear to have the number of performances, but I think we can conclude, beyond reasonable doubt, that sales per performance were a lot higher. This might be offset by a lot of the venues being big ones (30 sales per performance in a 35-seater is much better news than 30 in a 350-seater), but with every performances I saw being way over half occupancy, I’ll still wager those numbers are good.

Online sales, for what it’s worth, are 14,500 for 414 shows on the Fringe Player platform, averaging 35 per production. Obviously there’s no equivalent numbers to compare this to from 2019. Not all shows were on the fringe player platform, other platforms may skew the figures, but if we assume this was representative, this suggests that online is a much cheaper option, but gets much less reach. If you’re serious about getting an audience, it seems in-person remains the way to go.

There’s a lot of nuance around these figures that I’ve already discussed, but I think we can safely stick with the earlier conclusion that these are as excellent as a fringe under these circumstances could be.

And with that, I really am signing off. Thanks to everyone who over the month. Join me next May when we do it all over again, starting with Brighton.

Thursday 2nd September:

And that’s it, folks. This brings us to the end of coverage of the Edinburgh Fringe that nearly never was. We aren’t quite finished with fringes, because Greater Manchester Fringe is running in September instead of July this year (tied in, I understand, to the reopening plans of most of their venues). This had 60-ish registrations, so their recovery is comparable to that of Brighton or Buxton, as far as this city-wide fringe can be compared to the big three.

The summary of Edinburgh 2021 is as follows:

• Edinburgh Fringe has gone ahead at a fraction of its normal size, mainly due to some very late decisions from the Scottish government on what would and wouldn’t be allowed. Supporters say this late decision was a necessary move by an administration taking the threat of the virus seriously, whilst other people say it was an act of hypocrisy by a bunch of clueless cretins with ridiculous double-standards such as more relaxed rules for pubs even though they knew perfectly well the risk of transmission is far greater, and if you think they’re any more supportive of performing arts than the other bunch of clueless cretins over the border you’ve got another thing coming. As you can see, I’m sitting on the fence here.
• As a result, the feel of this Edinburgh Fringe is very different from a normal year. Within the core area of George Square and Bristo Square, is does feel a bit more like a festival. Outside of a core hub, it doesn’t feel like there’s a fringe on – even on the Royal Mile.
• The fact that the Fringe only went ahead as a fraction of its normal size hasn’t stopped the nimbys coming out in force. Most notorious this month has been the Cockburn Association, who so obviously are against the fringe for the reason that they don’t like it therefore no-one else should. Their objections are textbook nimbyism, where they raise issues they would never have given two hoots were they not trying to make the fringe bad. The most outlandish claim was that the Fringe was putting Edinburgh’s status as a UNESCO World Heritage Site under threat. UNESCO eventually said that wasn’t true, but the fact this rubbish was repeated often enough to prompt them to intervene is shocking.
• The good news is that, for the few acts that did go ahead amidst all the uncertainty, ticket sales have been excellent. Audience numbers have been massacred, but with the number of acts massacred even more, the sales per performance have improved. A lot of acts who shied away from taking part must be wishing they had now. Myself included.
• One notable absence this year has been second-tier venues. Nothing from C Venues, Greenside or Sweet, and the only presence of Zoo being a four-way collaboration with a temporary joint venue. This means that The Space has risen in prominence this year, taking a lot of acts that otherwise would have gone to the second tier. Big question now over what The Space does next. (See 24th August for possibilities.)
• Online theatre has also managed a reasonable presence, in spite of early scepticism over registration fees being off-putting. In fact, so far the online medium has persisted longer than most people expected, as in-person shows are returning across the board. I wasn’t seriously expecting this to become a permanent feature of fringes, but having surprised us this far, maybe it can surprise us further.
• The web-only booking system has proven troublesome are all sorts of logistical reasons, and the lack of a paper programme has compounded this. Although the paper programmes are one of the Festival |Fringe Society’s most expensive operations, it looks like fringe land is not yet ready to go fully paperless just yet. (That said, paperless ticketing seems to have worked – that is something that I expect to remain in place.)
• Shona McCarthy has stated for the first time on the record that Edinburgh Fringe is no longer judging its success by size. It’s been quietly backing away from bigger is better for a few years, but this is the first time it’s been made official.

All in all, the Edinburgh Fringe is in a strong position to begin a proper recovery next year. But do not underestimate the mountain they have to claim. It’s one thing for Brighton and Buxton to build on half-size fringes, but Edinburgh is more like tenth-size. There are aspirations to rebuild in a sustainable way without it being clear how that will be achieved, but perhaps the easiest way to do it is if demand never returns to the levels it was in the 2010s.

Edinburgh Fringe’s mission this year was to survive, and they have succeeded. The job of rebuilding the fringe, however, has only just started.

Wednesday 1st September:

We now have the stats of ticket sales – or some of them, anyway. Edinburgh Fringe has chosen not to release sales figures like it usually does. The reason given by Shona McCarthy is that she wishes to “stop defining success by scale”. A cynical interpretation is that Edinburgh Fringe is really holding back the figures because they’re not good, but I think this is unlikely because 1) all the anecdotal evidence was that the figures were as good as could be for a fringe this size; and 2) under Shona McCarthy the Festival Fringe Society has been quietly stepping away from “bigger is better” for a few years now. However, it does make it harder to assess how this have gone based on proper stats.

Some of the individual venues have nonetheless released their own figures, which Chortle has summed up, but I’ve not managed to work out out anything beyond what I knew already. The two big sticking points are: most of the stats do not separate sales for online and in-person; and the prevalence of large high-capacity venues (even after social distancing) against lots of small spaces in 2019. Between them, it makes a like-for-like comparison difficult. As such, I don’t think we can on anything better than percentage occupancy, where we still only have the 78% reported by The Space. I still think the Big Four’s performance was similar based on my observations, but if anyone can draw some better conclusions from number-crunching, I’d be happy to hear it.

It might be helpful, however, to stick to first principles and consider why these stats matter. For a fringe to grow – and whatever the FFS society may say, they’re desperate to grow past their 2021 size – ticket sales per act need to be high enough to make people think it’s worthwhile the following year. I think there can be little doubt that sales around the three-quarters mark will do the job. The other questions is whether the venues think it’s worthwhile to expand. Again, three-quarters occupancy should be encouraging, but the venues get to see all the data and there might be something out of view that’s more off-putting. Regardless, the big unknown factor is public funding. It’s one thing putting together a stop-gap fringe to prevent a total collapse, but another thing to support a fringe at anything near its normal size. Will they get the backing they need to expand? If not, how far dare they go without?

Those questions, folks, are unlikely to be answered until next year.

One other bit of breaking news: after all the hints that Brighton Fringe might decide to stick with its enforced three-week postponement for good – they’ve decided to stick with May after all. Bit surprised, seeing as everyone who’d expressed an opinion on this seems to back the change, but I was a little sceptical about this – I’m not convinced blazing hot weather at the seaside is good for ticket sales. No reason given as yet, but I expect I’ll find out the thinking in due course.

What that means for Edinburgh is that they keep their status as only viable fringe for student productions. May clashes with most students’ exams, but June is better, and with even a large student cast sharing expenses getting prohibitively expensive, that might have might Brighton a tempting alternative. Whether that would have been good or bad for Edinburgh Fringe is another question, but now that’s a hypothetical debate. What is does mean is that I can go back to covering fringe season over four months – four fringes in three months got somewhat back-breaking.

Tuesday 31st August:

So it’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for. Who has made my pick of the fringe? Here it goes. With all categories ordered in the sequence I saw them:

Pick of the Fringe:

Zumba Gold
Sintara Raw
Under Milk Wood: Semi-Skimmed
Shook
Northanger Abbey
Skank (based on Vault 2020)

Online Pick of the Fringe:

Mustard
Fow
The Little Glass Slipper performed by the Queen of France and her friends
Mimi’s Suitcase

Honourable mention:

Myra’s Story
The Event
Madhouse
Patricia Gets Ready (for a date with a man who used to hit her)
Fear of Roses
Brave Face
On Your Bike

Observant readers will notice that everything in-person I have reviewed here gets honourable mention or higher. This is intentional: anyone who have braved the odds to come to the Edinburgh Fringe this year has my eternal respect. It wasn’t automatic though: there was one pretty major performance I saw that I didn’t review because I thought it fell way short of expectations – everyone on this list gets the honour of doing better than this unspecified major performance. (I also didn’t review a music event, a tour, and a magic show but only because they were too far removed from theatre for me to make a meaningful assessment.)

Don’t go away just yet though. I have been tipped off of a piece of news coming tomorrow that could be significant for Edinburgh.

Monday 30th August:

And that’s it, the last day. Time to wind up coverage. We’re possibly waiting for news on fringe-wide ticket sales (we currently only have word from The Space) and we may also get some news from Brighton Fringe this week that might affect Edinburgh – in a good way, in my opinion.

But before then, let’s complete the online theatre reviews with a second and last batch:

Till Love Do Us Part: There are two halves to this play. The first half starts with a new couple saying goodnight on the start of a very successful first date. By the next scene, they’ve already moved in together, and for the next half-hour it’s practically a checklist of a relationship progressing like a dream: engagement, marriage, deciding to have kids together. Sadly, the conception ends in a miscarriage (the worst kind: the one where a scan predicts a doomed foetus will continue to grow but miscarry at a later time), but surely Jen and Simon’s love can survive this, right? Wrong.

The second half is what the play is really about. Nature is cruel and nature has decided a second conception isn’t going to be anywhere near as easy as the first. Jen’s desire to become a mother becomes an obsession. News of friends having their children without any effort only depresses her. Jen and Simon now only have sex for the purposes on conception. Until, finally, this puts a bigger strain on their lives than the original miscarriage.

It’s an informative play, but I wouldn’t have given half of it over the exposition. Whilst the time-frame over the length of the relationship is a temptingly tidy one, by the time we reached to meat of the story I was getting needlessly bored. Off-hand I’d have given a maximum of 10 minutes to bring us up to speed on life before. That I think would have given a tighter play; there may be further opportunities to explore to ups and downs in this fateful period. What this does achieve, however, is drawing attention to an issue that seems to attract little attention. It does that well, so credit for that.

Cash Point Meet: An Irish play that takes a look at the world of Sex Work it titled after one particular strand. A “Cash Point Meet” actually is a thing (look it up if you don’t believe me) involving men who, for some reason, find it a real turn on to be humiliated by a pair of women who take his money off him at a cash point. When Emma and Sinead are unexpectedly offered the chance to do this via a weird request on Tinder, it proves too tempting: all the money you get from sex work without actually having to do the sex bit. However, it turns out it’s not as easy as one imagines to separate this unexpectedly lucrative line of work from the rest of their lives. Like it or not, they are in it with all the other sex workers when it comes to their own safety.

The most obvious weakness of the play is a slow-moving plot. I would have cut the first 20 minutes completely – the exposition of two close friends on the breadline with no boyfriends could easily have been covered in the rest of the play. The play also digresses into issues such as mental health and Dublin’s notorious housing market that drag the pace down further. Nevertheless, once the play gets into the nuances of the complex situation around the sex work trade things get interesting. At the forefront, commentary on controversial the sex work laws on Ireland, with writer Niamh Murphy arguing the case that making paying for sex illegal for the punter only making life more dangerous for the sex workers. With one friend wanting out and the other friend wanting to campaign for her fellow workers, that’s where I think the real story lies.

The Little Glass Slipper as Performed by the Queen of France and Her Friends: And now, another unexpected gem. This was one of the stranger concepts: Marie Antionette, famous for being wife of Louis XVI and saying “let them eat cake” (which she probably never actually said), is putting on a play for the cream of Parisian aristocracy. She has cast herself into the most glamorous role of Cinderella, or, seeing as this is France, Cendrillon.At first glance, Marie comes across as the world first hipster. The kind who think it’s cool to spend an obscene amount of wealth of looking poor because looking poor is trendy. The kind you’d want to punch if you met them.

But tonight is the night the Bastille is being stormed, and as news reaches the Queen and friends must decide whether to flee to safety or stick with their sovereign, we see what she’s really like: in this play, she is defined by her naivety. She has no idea why this event is a big deal to France, and doesn’t seem to have any idea of the danger she’s in. She does, however, sense that so many people hate her, when all she does is to be liked by everyone. She is woefully out of touch – but it’s hard to see what chance she had to know any better.

It is not without its flaws. The role of Prince Charming is hastily taken up by a revolutionary intend on killing her are claiming the price on her head. He ends up pitying her – but the explanation for why he agrees to help the show go on is vague at best. But I am still hopeful that this can come to Edinburgh fringe for real. Some changes will have to be made – it is hard to see how the play as it stands could be performed on the smaller stages at the fringe – but this has a lot going for it. This is a beautiful portrayal with equal measures of comedy and tragedy – I hope the Miles Sisters can make the journey from America.

Sunday 29th August – Shook:

Before we go into the last in-person review, one bit of breaking news. We have our first report of ticket sales from The Space. They are reporting 64,000 ticket sales, down from 120,000 in 2019, but with the programme merely at 65 shown down from 445, that’s a lot more to go round. Seat occupancy is reported as 78%, which is in line with my observations across the fringe. I can see many would-be acts wishing they’d taken the plunge.

So let’s close with on the The Space’s most high-profile shows: Shook. Big coup for New Celts Productions to get performing rights for this, because this is a very recent winner of a major playwriting competition (Papatango). Samuel Bailey’s play is set in a prison where three young offenders are either fathers now or due to become fathers soon. Cain and Ryan begin the play with masculine bravado. As anyone who’s a man or has hung around with men knows, at least 60% of masculine bravado is bullshit, but in a prison that figure is more like 90%. Jonjo is a third quieter inmate, who looks like he needs help more than he needs prison, but when you hear what he was pushed into doing you see why he’s in prison. Can Grace give them one last chance to appreciate life as fathers.

Most drama set in prison are harrowing, either through the brutality of the inmates or the brutality of the people who locked them up, so it is refreshing to see a play that offers hope for a change. Cain, a traveller who spends time in and out of the nick makes a good point: the politicians who pledge to be tough on criminals like him hate him for who he is rather than what he’s done. Grace succeeds in getting Jonjo out of his shell where everyone else failed. Even Ryan – who comes across at the beginning as a bully at best and a misogynistic bully at worst – calms down for a while. Against the odds, Grace bring hope for almost everybody. Almost.

But how does this production fare? A lot to live up to with the fully professional premiere not that long ago. However, this young company does an excellent job of it, with the London setting successfully transplanted to Scotland. The only real limitations was the fringe environment such as the small stage, but they handle this. One thing that particularly impressed me is how much was achieved when actors aren’t speaking. In one moment where Grace is listening to Cain’s bullshit, Ryan – still in his masculine bravado phase – is sprawled out trying to dominate the room, whilst Jojno is cradling the doll of a baby even though he doesn’t need to.

The only shortcoming is one perhaps unavoidable to fringe conditions. It is normal for full-length plays to be shortened to fit in the programme – and most of them time, if you don’t know better, you can succeed in making it look like this is how it was written all along. This time, however, it would appear that something major about Ryan’s backstory was cut. When he snaps, there’s very little to tell us why, other than an unclear grudge against the person he lashed out at. But with the only thing I have to fault out of their hands, everything else is positive. The best was to get performing rights to a play written so recently is to persaude the writer you know what you’re doing. I hope Samuel Bailey and Papatango were proud out this.

Saturday 28th August – On Your Bike:

Now for a rare foray into musicals. I was drawn to this one by a very promising preview at The Space’s press launch. On Your Bike is a musical about one of the most recent additions to life: the takeaway delivery cyclist. The good news is that delivering takeaways by bicycle is much more environmentally friendly than driving everywhere by car. The bad news is that this often goes hand-in-hand with another not-so-welcome recent arrival: the casualisation of labour, where zero-hour contracts and/or so-called self-employed status are used as workarounds to evade employment protections that apply to everyone else.

The showcase song, however, has nothing to do with cycling or takeaways. “Where do we get to the bit where it all goes wrong?” as a song on a first date where everything is going right. Can this promising standard apply to the rest of the songs. Yes they do. Writing songs for musicals is tricky – if either the words or the music doesn’t work out, it falls flat. The music in these songs, however, is consistently good and consistently catchy. The lyrics are also impressive. Even people who have no trouble letting the words flow in regular prose can struggle when setting it to music, but the words are crafted exceedingly well here. In the opening we learn Gemma is doing this because she’s had 77 consecutive rejection letters using every platitude know to man (increasing to 78 by the time the song finishes), and her living arrangements is even more precarious than her job than her job. Aidan is a little more secure with his arrangement, fitting his art around these irregular hours, but that too is going to come under pressure.

The story, however, isn’t quite as strong as the music. The brilliantly catchy “Where do we get to the bit where it all goes wrong?” loses its edge a little when you notice the two people getting together don’t really seem to have anything in common. No soon has Aidan started his whirlwind romance with a social media marketing-obsessed middle manager, she’s already badgering him to quit his art aspirations and join her in faceless middle management, which makes we wonder what they saw in each other in the first place. The play starts off making some intelligent comment about the culture around casual labour, where maximum flexibility to stakeholders is pushed at the expense of any real security or dignity, but too many of the resolutions are contrived. Yes, there are are ethical questions around animal welfare and takeaways, but a takeaway manger have a change of heart and converting to a vegan falafel restaurant after reading one leaflet from an animal rights group? Come on.

Despite these limitations, this is a good start from a student ensemble for what I think is the most difficult form of writing. Songwriting gets a lot more complicated when you are supporting a story, story-telling gets a lot more complicated when you’re mixing in music and lyrics. The ensemble of four give a strong performance, and the musical standard remains high from start to finish. Four year ago the same society came up with Six, and we know how that’s going. Good job from their successors in keeping the flag flying.

Friday 27th August:

A break from the reviews now to look at the end-of-fringe news. By now, I think everyone is confident that the Edinburgh Fringe has done enough to put itself on a firm footing to recover. Now they have launched a Save the Fringe campaign aiming to raise £7.5 million. As anyone’s who’s manage to successfully book a ticket through the fringe website how, the donations page has been asking for support for 2022 which they are now eyeing up as their relaunch year, coinciding with their 75th anniversary. This campaign, however, is a long-term one one aiming to raise money over 3-5 years, according to The Stage. At present, we don’t have details of what the Edinburgh Fringe plans to do with this £7.5m that it couldn’t do without, but we do have a list of seven principles they aspire to.

However, I think there is another factor that needs to be considered. When I previously wrote about 7 possible futures for the Edinburgh Fringe when the situation looked the bleakest, I considered scenarios from “phoenix from the ashes” to “meltdown”. The danger of the meltdown scenario is now receding, but instead we should now consider a scenario at the opposite extreme: the Fringe recovers too well, and all the problems of a large fringe that came to a head in 2019 come back. It might even go beyond 2019 and hit breaking point. Edinburgh Fringe stopped cheerleading year-on-year growth a few years back, but with the festival open to all, they can’t stop the same people doing it all over again.

So does these seven principles address this? Debatable. The most relevant principle is number 2, which says: “Break down barriers to participation in the Fringe”. Money isn’t the only barrier, but it’s by the far the biggest one, and there’s no escaping the fact that the bigger the fringe gets, the more it costs to do it. However, whilst no-one would object to the principles, the devil is in the detail, or rather the lack of it: there is so far no information on exactly how the Edinburgh Fringe intends to break down barriers.

This ties into the wider issue of the great reset. Every man and his dog is currently taking about this year being the great fringe reset. Everybody agrees that the fringe is too expensive and needs to be kinder, and most people agree that the fringe got too big, but few people are proposing a solution, and amongst those who have, there’s next to no consensus. The only thing everybody can seem to agree on is that other people who are responsible for making the fringe too big. If 2019 mustn’t be repeated, who shouldn’t go? Never themselves, that’s for sure.

My current feeling is that whilst the aspiration to make the fringe a better place might be there, the drive isn’t. Few people are coming up with ideas, fewer still are prepared to compromise for the greater good. If the fringe does reform, it’s more likely to be market forces. It does look a lot of freelancers who have left the arts won’t be coming back, and with all fringes so dependent on freelancing, that could reduce uptake a lot. This is also the year that alternative festivals rose in prominence, and potentially will start taking people who would otherwise have gone for Edinburgh or bust. Edinburgh’s problem has been supply and demand – it looks like the cut in demand may be permanent.

There is will time for the Festival Fringe society, venues, arts industry and public bodies to get their heads together and make a plan, but at the moment there seems little will to even attempt to do this. If a recovered Edinburgh Fringe has fewer barriers and is more sustainable, it may not to because of the efforts to reform, but in spite of the lack of effort. If you want to to prove me wrong -well, that’s in your hands.

Thursday 26th August – Brave Face:

It truly pains me to say this, but although Brave Face is a story with huge potential and so much to say, it fails the “What’s going on?” test. The message that writer/performer Everleigh Brenner gives at the end of the play is that there are many women who have suffered sexual violence who put on a brave face, and few if any of the people there would disagree with that. But the play sets out to say more than that. Her character em becomes, in her words “a woman the world fears” are resort of some extreme measure. Clearly a powerful statement is being made here, but I’m completely lost as to what statement was being made.

Based on what I can piece together (spoiler alert if you haven’t seen the play but I don’t know how else to summarise this): Em was raped seven years ago, and wants revenge. But with proven rapists hard to identify, Em has widened her net to exact her vengeance on adulterers, philanderers, misogynists and lecherous wankers in general. After she sees her fuck-buddy cop off with another woman, something prompts her to take action, although it’s not clear whether the trigger was that incident or a video shown after of what appears to be an attack – is this a flashback to an earlier event or something that’s just happened? Either way, she starts blackmailing the other men she’s been having affairs with and attacking some of her pick-ups with anaesthetic she took from her dental job. Her number one target, however, is a touring DJ, although it’s not clear whether his crime is being her rapist or simply liking photos of hot women on Instagram. She meets him, intending to lure him to bed for an unclear ulterior motive. And she succeeds, but not before he behaves like a gentleman and she discovers she has feelings for him (and if he is indeed her rapist that confuses me further). But in bed he doesn’t understand stop and she retaliates in the most extreme way possible.

I think I can conclude, beyond reasonable doubt, I have missed something vital that’s supposed to explain what’s happening and why. I don’t have many rules for playwriting, but one of the ones I swear by is that the more out of the ordinary a character behaves, the harder you have to work to show what made him or her do this. I’m not interested in her multi-partnered sex life – there is no normal way to respond to rape – but the revenge she dishes out is as far removed from normal as can be. I’m pretty sure Brenner has a very good idea for why Em is doing this, but I don’t, and when I discussed this with another member of the audience, she floated another theory. It was a good one that never crossed my mind, I admit, but when a play is intended to sent a message loud and clear, the last thing you want is multiple interpretations of what the play was actually about.

The thing is, apart from that, I think this play has all the ingredients of a great one. Even without fully understanding Em’s motivations, Brenner gives a articulate, confident and often emotive performance. I was also particularly impressed by the technical achievement. This kind of multimedia approach usually falls foul of one of two things: either not really adding to the story, or getting out of their depth. Neither applies here This is a story heavily interlaced with the online world, where real life blends with everything from diary organisers to social media containing all sorts of casual bigotry and nastiness. And performer and tech blend seamlessly.

So here’s what I would do next. This play is currently 40 minutes along, but fringe productions typically run 60. 20 minutes should be more than enough to flesh out any unclear plot points, but more importantly, go into the depth that’s needed to explain why she’s done what she’s done. Brenner understands Em better than anyone else,so there’s little else I can suggest on who to do it, other than the obvious principle of “show, don’t tell”. And that’s it. That, I reckon, is all that’s needed to get this play to have its full reach and live to its full potential. And this has bags of potential. Don’t sell it short.

Wednesday 25th August – Fear of Roses:

This play is described as a pulp thriller, but at first glance it looks more of a play about character relationships and office politics. Nicollette works as PA for Tabby aka Tabitha, expected to be imminently promoted with Tabitha expected to be promoted along with her. Tabby is a rising star, and in a victory for gender equality proves that women are just as good as men at going to strip joints on managers’ nights out and discussing it inappropriately at work the next day. That aside, the opening is actually quite interesting. At first, it looks like the two are old friends, but as time goes on hints are dropped that Tabby is actually quite self-obsessed. In particular, Nicollette has been forced to take on a night shift to make ends meet, and Tabby is wilfully oblivious to the circumstances of her supposed old friend.

However, the balance of power is about to shift noticeably. It turns out Tabby’s career path to date has not been entirely above board, and this has attracted the attention of Keely who’s come to visit. It is never specified exactly what skeletons are in Tabby’s cupboard, but it is enough to make her agree to a sum of half a million in 48 hours. And the only way she can get that amount of money in that short a length of a time is to rob her own bank overnight. If only there was a soft target in security – wait a mo …

The plot continues at a satisfying pace as more secrets are revealed and more things turn out to not be what they seem, but this play does suffer a little from a few plot points that don’t quite stack up. Nothing is serious and it doesn’t get to the point where the entire premise ceases to make sense, but there still a few questions that bugged me afterwards. In particular, why was blackmailing Keeley so unrelenting on a 48-hour deadline once it was clear Tabby couldn’t deliver the goods in time? Surely it’s better to get the money late than not at all. There is a twist at the end which I won’t spoil. but if you’re going to do that you need to make sure the story continues to stack up in light of what’s been revealed.

In spite of this, however, it’s a decent comedy-thriller that covers bases of social comment and character relations. This show has been overshadowed somewhat by their other production, Press, which seems to be going down very well, but as long as you can resist the temptation to nit-pick too hard you shouldn’t be disappointed with this.

Tuesday 24th August, 9.45 p.m. – Patricia Gets Ready (for a date with a man that use to hit her)

I must apologise that I cannot cover this next play with my normal impartiality. If I was part of a reviewing publication I would ask someone else to do this, but as sole reviewer of chrisontheatre I don’t have this option. The thing that attracted me to this play was the subject of long-term trauma – in the case of Patricia, the aftermath of a violent relationship. She has long rehearsed the words she intend to she if she ever sees the bastard again – but when the bastard shows up out of the blue, she instead resorts to small talk, and when he suggests going out to dinner for the evening, she forgets how to say no.

Why would anyone agree to do that? If you’re hoping there’s somehow some sort of of remorse on the part of her ex, forget it. There’s barely any time between falling head over heels with the bad-boy man of her dreams, and the violence that follows. This is based on playwright Martha Watson Allpress’s own personal experience, but it falls into a depressingly predictable pattern: from the outset exact ideas about how a woman should behave down to choice of drinks; resorting to the fist at the first sign of disagreement; and ludicrous amounts of paranoia and jealousy over matters as trivial as dancing with a gay best friend. That’s not to say the play doesn’t bring new insights – it is recounted here how the tension in anticipation of being hit becomes almost as bad as the violence itself. At one point, a gut-wrenching phone call is played as Patricia finally tells her mother what’s been going on all this time, begging her not to cry.

However, there was one thing in this that didn’t ring true – to me. This is where I need to tread carefully. There’s few things I hate more than reviewers or whoever using someone else’s traumatic experience and making it all about themselves, so I will say this on a need-to-know basis only. My interest was long-term trauma is a personal one. You don’t need to know what – if you want to know I’ve talked about it extensively elsewhere – but before you ask: not an abusive relationship; not anything nearly as bad as Patricia’s story. Even so, it took me eight years before I was comfortable going into all the details of what happened to me. One year after the event, I was still making excuses for my gaslighters.

So here’s what doesn’t ring true for me. Patricia narrates a very convincing and harrowing account of two years’ abuse in a composed and articulate manner. But if I was in no such state to recount my experience one year after the event, I just can’t believe it would be any easier for someone who’s been though much much worse. The Patricia speaking to us is a fully recovered strong Patricia who now sees the scumbag for every despicable thing he is – but the Patricia talking to her ex, or even anybody else when going into her story, is a very different Patricia. The first Patricia struck me as someone who would have no trouble telling her ex to go fuck himself.

The message at the end, however, is an important one: there is no typical battered partner. If it was me, I would consider doing most of Patricia’s story in third person – there is enough artistic license to do this. The other option would be to write this in the mind of post-trauma Patricia; that would be a much harder thing to do if she’s reluctant to go into the worst of what happened, even though she must. But similar things have been done, and they’re very effective when done right.

Reality trumps character assessment, of course – if anyone is ready to talk about every detail of a violent relationship within a year of the event, please say so. I would love to proven wrong here. I guess, in the end, I was looking for something I can personally can relate to: that you can get on with your life and be resilient, but still shut down when made to recount a traumatic memory – the two are not exclusive. If that wasn’t the point of this personal story, fair enough. What I hope we can agree on is the fallacy of the phrase “But it was a long time ago.”

Tuesday 24th August, 5.00 p.m.:

We are currently in what’s going to be a very Space-heavy section of reviews, so now’s a good time to look at this venue. The Space has had an interesting year, and is now at a crossroads.

Historically, the Space has differed from other venues is that it runs entirely on first-come-first-served. In practice, this gives almost everybody a place to perform at the Edinburgh Fringe even if no other venue will have you. One easy criticism to make is that this makes The Space home for all the acts that aren’t good enough to be taken by anyone else, but that’s not entirely fair. Whilst it’s true to say The Space has more than its fair share of godawful plays, no venue is immune from this and The Space has also hosted some very successful plays. I am strongly of the view that it is better to allow an untested artist to try and fail than to prevent an untested artist from trying and succeeding, and The Space performs this important job.

This year, however, it’s been a bit difference. With the near-total absence of second-tier venues, The Space have taken on a lot of acts that would otherwise have gone to Zoo, Sweet or Greenside. But the other development is that The Space has pushed an online platform more strongly than any Edinburgh Venue. They ran an online programme last August when most venues shut down completely, and carried on running this after Edinburgh time finished. The third season was done for Brighton Fringe, which Space had never had any association with before. They are still running an online programme this time, which is less newsworthy as most venues are running some sort of online platform, but they have been one of the key drivers with this rise of online fringe.

So, what happens next? I honestly don’t know, but let’s sketch out four scenarios, any of which might exist in combinations:

• Back to before: We still don’t know the long-term future of “online fringe”. Certain a lot of online fans acquired over 2020 have said how good it is to be back to the real thing. Should interest fade, the Space could return to its original role of entry-level tier.
• Online platform persists: One of the arguments in favour of keeping an online fringe platform is that it gives artists the chance to get things out there in an environment where people take a punt on unknowns, but without the expense associated with coming to Edinburgh. It might run parallel with the fringes, it might also be moves to its own festival (maybe winter) as some people have suggested. Either way, I think it’s a safe bet that if there’s an online fringe of any standing, The Space will want to be part of it.
• Moving up the league: If The Space have taken acts who would normally go elsewhere, it may hang on to them. If they are really lucky, the good reputation of these more experienced acts will up the reputation as the place where the good stuff is, which in turn attract other notable acts. The snag? That might spell the end of The Space as an open-access venue. I’ve seen this happen to other venues that forgot their ideal to provide a space to perform the moment everybody wanted to go there.
• Less focus on Edinburgh: Is Edinburgh Fringe the right fringe for entry-level acts anyway? You can certainly get started a lot more cheaply at fringes other than Edinburgh. Who knows, now that The Space has been part of Brighton Fringe’s online programme, they might decide it also suits them to be part of their in-person programme. Sweet has shown the running at two fringes can work, so might The Space go for three?

As always, we’ll see.

Pages: 1 2 3

Brighton Fringe 2021 – as it happens

Saturday 3rd July:

And that’s all from me, folk. Extended Brighton Fringe continues until the 11th July, but we’ve seen enough to know how this is going – and every indication is that the 2021 Brighton Fringe, intended as a relaunch after the tiny and postponed 2020 fringe, has gone like a dream.

To summarise what we’ve learned:

• Patronage of Brighton Fringe has been excellent. Targets of ticket sales for the entire fringe were surpassed in the first week. My own observations is that the big venues were as busy as they’ve always been, and where venues operated at reduced capacity they were mostly sell-outs or close to that. The only times that ticket sales looked weak was during the day when the weather was hot, but that’s the same in normal fringes.
• The pop-up venues have adapted well to social distancing, perhaps helped along by last year’s Warren Outdoors showing how this could be done. I have a more mixed reaction to indoor venues: some handled this well, but others I felt were more sloppy. It would only have taken one outbreak linked to a venue for the naysayers to say “I told you so” and reinstate extra restrictions on theatres – luckily, that didn’t happen.
• Crucially, The Railto is back in business. This venue didn’t reopen for the October Fringe and when it didn’t get Cultural Recovery Fund money, there were a lot of worries they might close for good. Thankfully, they have weather the storm, thanks in part to support from a crowdfunder. Had they closed, I believe it would have done a lot of cultural damge, not just to Brighton but the whole country.
• The reviewers have also come back in force for Brighton Fringe 2021, and they stayed the course. This might not seem like a big deal to those who prefer word of mouth, but a good review is valuable for those who want their play to have a life beyond the fringe.
• The mood around the changes to Brighton Fringe 2021 varies. There has been a surprisingly high amount of support for making the temporary move to June permanent – turns out most poeple like this, so this will probably happen. However, the online-only programme, whilst necessary, has not been popular. Whilst there are ways to do this better, the consensus seems to be that Brighton is not ready to dispence with the brochure just yet.
• Although in-person performances have been the focus, the online programme is persisting longer than anyone imagined, with four online platforms taking part this year. One option being considered is moving this to a seperate festival, possibly during the winter when in-person fringing is less appealing.
• This fringe has been very comedy-heavy – if anything, it’s dominated the fringe even more than it dominated Edinburgh. It’s not too surpising it happened during this fringe when 1) a lot of peple would appreciate some comedy, and 2) comedy is generally easier to get going at short notice. We don’t yet know whether this is a long-term change, and if so, whether it shold be a cause for concern.
• And finally, Brighton Fringe’s good fortune is a sharp contrast to Edinburgh’s misfortunes. Based on initial lists of shows, Edinburgh Fringe 2021 could be smaller than Brighton. The Scottish Government has given some support late in the day, but a lot of people still blame them for unfairly singling out live perfomance with more stringent rules for no good reason. But that’s a story for another day.

So now I sign off, but don’t go away. Buxton Fringe starts next week. I’d better get a move on with my recommendations.

Friday 2nd July:

[Sorry for the backdated post – I’ve been without internet for most of the last 24 hours.]

And now, here’s the remainder of the online reviews:

The Importance of Being … Earnest?: Technically this was not part of Brighton Fringe’s online season – it was supposed to be live-streamed at one point, but that didn’t work out. But with me unable to make it to the live performance at The Warren, and having already agreed to review it online, I instead reviewed a recording from an old pre-lockdown performance. The first thing I will say about this is: don’t watch this online, watch it live, because this is a very heavily interactive show where you really need to be in the audience to experience this. But, that said, I’d rate this as the strongest of the six online pieces I saw.

The premise starts off quite simply: Algernon and Lane are doing the opening for Oscar Wilde’s masterpiece, when the door opens and in walks Earnest aka Jack – except that he’s not turned up to the play. How can the show go on? The answer, of course, is to get a random member of the audience to step in. Say It Again Sorry also play fast and loose with the original script, so Lady Bracknell now asks Earnest/Jack/audience member to rate on a scale of 1-10 his ability to give Gwendolynn a good seeing-to, and there’s also a swasbuckling swordfight added in (just because). But why settle for one stand-in when you can have more stand-ins for alcoholic Gwendolynn, and Lady Bracknell who refuses to work with amateurs, half a dozen hastily-added butlers, and – eventually – the entire remaining audience as wedding guests (just because). You get the idea. But this madcap play works tightly and deals with unpredictable audience interact well to make it a lot of fun. But if you see it, see it in person.

A red square: This one is, without a doubt, the most different of all the online entries I’ve seen – and possibly the entire fringe. Everything else has a video or audio of some sort of performance. This, however, is an animation that is not only created in Powerpoint but viewed in Powerpoint. The lead character is a red square who falls in love with another red (slightly more maroon) square, and they adopt a baby red square together. But after maroon square drowns in a beach accident, Red Square must bring up his child alone. (I’m not sure if red squares have genders, but Liam Neeson eventually plays Red Square in the film adaptation, I’m guessing it’s a he.) But when child square drifts away in a helium balloon floating incident, Daddy Red Square must get his child back. And in the course of the investigation, Red Square find a portal to the computer desktop his world was made in.

With this being so far out from what I normally review, there’s little I can compare this to. One thing I will say fro the perspective of someone who does a day job in IT is that I wouldn’t have sent out powerpoint files to viewers. Although it is fitting poetically to view a Powerpoint-based play in Powerpoint, and it allowed for some customisations not possible elsewhere (such as Julian Caddy appearing in this Brighton Fringe edition), it was I think more throuble than it was worth. I found it a faff to get it to work, and 220MB files do not play nicely with a lot of computers. Whilst less adventurous, I would have used the video format like the trailer did, which I found quite effective, and more versatile for sound. Other than that, the play is highly surrealistic, sometimes as naturalistic as a red square family can be, at other times highly absurd – I just wondered if sometimes I miss something because of an in-joke. But I can recommend this for being as a different as a fringe entry can be.

Head or Tails: The last one is a return to filming of a conventional stage play, this one through the Living Record platform. This time, however, the filming is a lot more “talking heads” style which suits a monologue of this format. Steph (Skye Hallem), who died aged 25, has been given 40 minutes to return to the land of the living to tell us about what it’s like in the afterlife. In this gentle-paced speech over five parts, she tells us how much more relaxed and contented things are in eternity, in a bit to encourage those on us on earth to take heed and make the most of our time on this side.

What the play had an irritating habit of, however, was bringing up some of the big subjects but never resolving them. We hear that God is aware of all the questions of why such an all-powerful entity would allow Donald Trump and Coronavirus and millennia of wars, and we hear that God has low points and accepts there were screw-ups – but Steph changes the subject before going further. Another promising lead is when Steph starts to broach the subject of her own death, but switches to general life advice before resolving this. It is only in the last fifth of the play where things start to get really interesting and emotive. In earth, people eventually forget the departed, but the memories Steph has of the living stay with her forever. That, I think, is where the real story lies.

Thursday 1st July:

Sorry, remainder of online reviews will have to wait until tomorrow. Having a bit a of a crisis here.

What I will report is that the first Edinburgh fringe tickets have gone on sale. I said less that Sunday that anything under 350 entries (the equivalent number when Brighton opened sales) would be a jaw-dropper. Well, it’s 180. Almost half. Jaws have officially dropped.

There is some mitigating news though. The only major venues to have put tickets on sale straight away are Space and Summerhall. We are still expecting more entries from the Big Four, C Venues, Zoo Venues, and the two Free Fringe venues. Edinburgh will need to quadruple its numbers if it’s to move ahead of Brighton, but I still think that’s achievable. But the fact that Brighton is even in the running for UK’s largest fringe this year is absolutely gob-smacking.

Wednesday 30th June:

Before I sign off, I did a late catch-up with online theatre I was asked to review. I’m maybe not the best judge of online work, because I focus in a theatre in a way I never really to in front of a computer screen. As such, I’ll keep the feedback concise – as always, anyone who wants further feedback is welcome to ask.

What did strike me about this overall, however, was the sheer variety of how “online” is being done. Out of everything I’ve seen so far, each one took a different approach to the medium. Here’s a review of three; I’ll do the other three tomorrow.

The Old House: Out of all the online pieces I saw, this was the closest to an in-person performance. Originally meant for Brighton Fringe 2020, it was performed as a conventional play for streaming, first for the Actor’s Centre on Demand season and now for Brighton Fringe. A solo play written and performed by Kate Maravan, she plays both daughter and mother. Daughter is driving her mother to “The Old House”, one-time a holiday home they used to go to – but when she has to explain repeatedly where they’re going, along with every other aspect of the journey. The mother has Dementia, and this journey is an attempt to bring some memories she can relate to. The daughter also has some difficult memories of her own to deal with.

Maravan has based this on her experiences with her own mother, and she knows her stuff. Much has been made of her playing both characters, and she plays them both well and seamless switches between the two. However, tin doing this, I feel this has missed out on something important – this is the sort of play where it’s not just about delivering your lines; it’s also about how you react to other character’s lines. The moment when she realises here mother no longer knows her daughter’s name or age is heartbreaking – but we don’t get to see the impact at the vital moment. I may be in the minority here, as lots of people seem to like this solo format, but if Kate Maravan would consider a two-hander, I’d be happy.

… And Helen: Whilst most online performances have gone for some sort of streamed video, the Coily Dart Theatre Company has gone for an audio production. There is a case for doing this. Simply filming a stage performance can feel like a substitute for the real thing, but doing something more like a screenplay puts you in competition with people who do better. However, audio plays are relatively easy to do to a comparable production standard as Radio 4. This is a musical in the style about Gilbert and Sullivan about a name few remember. D’Oyly Carte is known for the opera company who brought G&S to the world, but amongst the historians, Helen Black holds an important part of history. Originally a secretary to Richard D’Oyly Carte and eventually his wife, she’s a prime example that – for all the stupid barriers put in the way of women in the 19^th century – you could still achieve great things by making yourself indispensable.

I do think, however, Coily Dart underestimated how difficult the task is they set themselves. Writing play about Helen would have been easy enough, but writing anything in the style of Gilbert and Sullivan – as they are doing here – is a huge challenge. The songs are done well and suit the style, both in terms of music and lyrics, but to really pull it off, the dialogue needs to match the style too. Someone, you’d have to find a way to tell Helen’s story with late Victorian prose without sacrificing clarity, and surely you have to take up the opportunity to lampoon civil service bureaucracy. I really like the concept of this, but there’s work to be done to give Helen the tribute she deserves.

Devil’s food cake: This one took an approach I’ve not any group do before. It’s one of the online plays done on Zoom or something similar, but rather than just read out the lines, or reframe the play as a chat over Zoom/Skype/etc, Putney Theatre Company tries to make a conventional play out of it. With a cast of five, with three living in one house, they pull a few tricks to make two or more different locations look like the same place. Conversations between mother and daughter take place through doors (in real life two different houses), and 18th birthday bunting in put over two scenes to make it look like a family of four sitting round a table. Some techniques worked less well though: having a parent and a psychologist sitting sideways in two different rooms to make it look like they’re talking to each other is a bit much to believe. I would have just done that as a normal Zoom call – I think we have a valid enough reason why the doctor wouldn’t want people turning up in person at the moment.

I won’t dwell on that too much though – this approach, innovative though it is, will at some point become redundant. What we hope last longer is the play. Presumably written originally as a conventional stage play, it’s about a teenager who’s teetering into anorexia, and the effect is has not just on her but her family. It was nearly ten years ago that I saw the excellent Mess, but already things have changed – now there’s a whole load of websites telling you why it’s good to anorexic, and how to hide it from people who want to help you. However, I do feel this play falls foul of the common mistake of writing lines to be read. There’s a of details – and correct – technical information in the play, but in real life people don’t normally talk that way. One good scene is when Dad stumbles across said pro-anorexia sites when trying to find the opposite, thanks to irresponsible algorithms on social media – but you don’t need to the other daughter to spell out how this works. My advice would be not to underestimate your audience – they are better at picking things up than you think. Concentrate instead on developing the characters, and that will convey the message with a lot more power.

That’s me halfway. Hope to complete this tomorrow.

Tuesday 29th June:

Should probably sound one other note of caution about Edinburgh Fringe. Not wishing to stoke up too much panic, but the Coronavirus case rates in Edinburgh are pretty horrendous at the moment, and, worse, they seem to be doubling every week with no sign of a let-up. At the moment, the Scottish Government’s position seems to be that there’s nothing to worry about as vaccination will get things under control. I am used to this kind of complacency from Boris Johnson, but I’m surprised to get this attitude from Nicola Sturgeon, whose careful-careful approach earned her a lot of respect. I hope I’m wrong, but I worry that these two have suddenly gone into a contest of boasting over whose vaccination programme is the most awesomest.

The counter-argument is that’s it’s only cases that are skyrocketing and it’s we’re okay as long as hospitalisation and deaths numbers stay low, but that feels like a risky assumption to me. I still think the health risk is bearable, but the problem with a complacent approach is that complacency is easily replaced with panic. The knee-jerk reaction to ban travel to Scotland from Manchester – even though Edinburgh has a way higher infection rate – suggests that politics is taking still taking precedence over pragmatism, and it would be really easy to issue euqally knee-jerk reactions against the Edinburgh Fringe to be seen to be doing something. Suffice to say if I was running a venue, I would really not be comfortable with committing to Edinburgh right now.

Changing the subject, I’ve started going through the online theatre review requests. I’ve seen most of them, got a couple to go, and hope to write up a few thoughts on each of them over the next couple of days. What I can say in general though is that I see what people mean about online being difficult to operate. The combination of ticketing and viewing over multiple different platforms does seem to be getting confusing. Can’t think of an obvious solution to this, and there’s 101 little issue to sort out rather than a few big ones, but it’s something to think about should online become a permanent addition.

Monday 28th June:

So as we go into extra time, let’s take a look at what’s coming up one last time. All of these are at The Warren.

My hot pick of extended fringe has to be Skank. This is one of the big success stories of the Greater Manchester Fringe, and one of the finest examples that you can come out of nowhere with a play everyone loves on the fringe circuit. Skank is a sort-of female Peep Show, but there is a twist to this. Mark and Jeremy will never change, but something happens in this to change things for Kate. 6.30 this Thursday and Friday.

We also have a return of The Indecent Musings of Miss Doncaster 2007 (Wednesday next week, 10.00 p.m.) and Crime Scene Improvisation (Closing Sat/Sun next week, 4.15 p.m.) And running pretty much continuously at 9.30 p.m. from now on is Shit-Faced Shakespeare, who pretty much carried The Warren Outdoors as a viable venture last summer.

And, of course, Warren on the Beach is coming soon. Still no announcement of the line-up, but surely can’t be long.

Sunday 27th June:

And so we’re at the end of “core” fringe. I’m going to close this shortly; I’m not expecting anything particularly sensational to happen in the extended two weeks. However, I’m going to keep running a little longer to see what size Edinburgh Fringe we’re looking at. Tickets are now going on sale July 1st.

Three big caveats to mention here. Firstly, registrations numbers alone don’t tell everything. Prior to 2020, there was little doubt that Edinburgh Fringe was much bigger than Brighton Fringe, which in turn was much bigger than all the other fringes, no matter what measurement you use. If the numbers are close, however, it might make a difference. The other thing to be ware is that the numbers will increase after July 1st; Brighton Fringe’s numbers almost doubled between opening of ticket sales and opening of the fringe. Also, there’s in-person and online to consider – some people would argue that online doesn’t count.

I’m not going to try to unpick these factors until we have some info. But the baseline in 3,841 entries in 2019. Here’s what the numbers on Thursday might mean.

Over 1,500: Cause for celebration, under the circumstances. 1,500 is a 60% reduction, which was the forecast last summer, before the outlook got much much worse. If they surpass this figure, we’re looking at an impressive turnaround.

1,000 – 1,500: Edinburgh Fringe remains the undisputed king of the fringe circuit. Brighton gets close to 1,000 in a normal year, so if it clears this hurdle they will have a convincing lead.

650 – 1,000: Edinburgh Fringe remains in the lead, but with Brighton Fringe snapping at its heels, even if there’s no push to expand. They’ll have to count on regaining lost ground in 2022.

350-650: Edinburgh’s title is in trouble. They are below Brighton 2021’s eventual numbers – they will have to count on late registrations in the last month if they want to gain ground.

Under 350: A jaw-dropper. Below Brighton at the start of their ticket sales, would need a surge in last-minute registrations to get ahead. Edinburgh may still be ahead in terms of ticket sales or performances, but the fact it is behind on any measure would be a bombshell. That doesn’t necessarily mean it’s game over for Edinburgh, but it will throw things wide open.

So yes, Thursday’s a big news day.

Saturday 26th June:

So, we’ve had a very different Brighton Fringe – but must all these changes be temporary? it’s entirely possible that Brighton Fringe might decide it likes some of the changes made out of necessity and stick with it.

For this exercise, I am ignoring the possibility of Covid restrictions continuing into 2022 and instead looking at changes that may persist without. The possibilities I can think of are:

Brighton fringe in June – likely: I honestly wasn’t expecting this to stick – whilst attendance in this June fringe was a success, I did notice that hot afternoons and England matches did have an adverse effect on those shows on at the wrong time. But at the Future of Brighton Fringe online meeting that I dropped into, apparently the vast majority of people who have an opinion on this decided they liked it. The main reason is that most people think May is too crowded, with Brighton Festival and The Great Escape on at the same time; it was also noted that June is a better time for student participation. There was a consensus that May half term should remain part of the fringe, but as the first week rather than the last one.

Warren on the beach – too early to say: We’ll have to wait and see how a second summer does before making any predictions here. But the one-off pop-up venue has already become a two-off. I suspect a lot of this will depend on the national trend for summer alternatives to the Edinburgh Fringe. If big names decide they prefer Assembly Garden and Underbelly Festival to the Edinburgh Fringe, my guess is The Warren outdoors will have the same fortunes.

Extended fringe – too early to say: Whilst there was a lot of enthusiasm for a June fringe, there was little mention of carrying on six-week runs at Warren and Spiegeltent. However, if Warren on the Beach becomes permanent, it might make sense to carry on running the pop-up venues until then. Which would raise the question: how would the other venues feel about that? But I’ll wait for an answer to the previous question before speculating too much.

Web-only programme – unlikely (in the short term): Whilst everyone agrees the decision to dispense with the paper programme was a necessary one, it’s not been a welcome one. There have been multiple complaints over the website not being as easy to use as the Daily Guide in the programme. That could be addressed, but the other issue is some people simply not being used to online brochures at all. It’s not a “no, never”, but the strong consensus is that Brighton Fringe is not ready to run without the paper programme, in spite of the expense.

Big pop-up outdoor venues – probably not: I have no inside knowledge over this one, but I can’t see the McElderry and the Oil Shed continuing any more than they need to. If it was me, I’d want to get back the multitide of smaller spaces and lighting capability as soon as possible. Warren on the Beach will probably remain outdoors though, should it go ahead. The performances against the sunset is something special.

Online programme – maybe: Strictly speaking, online theatre has never been disallowed – it’s just that Brighton (along with most other fringes) made it easier to integrate online streaming, either directly through the website, or through third parties. However, online theatre has persisted longer than most people expected, with three platforms (SpaceUK, Living Record and Sweetstream) emerging to host online work. One possibilty that’s been floated is a separate online festival (probably in winter) when there can be an online focus. This will probably depend on the overall future of online – that is still up in the air – but if it prevails, Brighton will probably be part of it.

Relocated Fringe City – maybe: I admit I’m the only person I kno who’s pondered this, but I think Jubillee Street might be a better location than New Road just to the south. There was a time when it made sense to put Fringe City on the busiest street to get attention, but if you’re flyering it’s a pain to waork out who is and isn’t there for the fringe. A self-contained hub might make more sense now.

Snapping at Edinburgh’s heels – no: Depending on how much damage has been done to Edinburgh Fringe 2021 through dithering, Brighton might come close to being the UK’s largest fringe, or even overtake. However, this has barely registered with Brighton. There was a big – and successful – push to expand Brighton up to 2016, but there’s zero interest in pushing further. As far as they’re concerned, Brighton Fringe may expand further if more people want to take part, but don’t expect any more proactive pushes.

Or I might get this catastrophically wrong again. You have my permission to take copies of this and laugh and point it the opposite of my predictions comes true.

Friday 25th June:

So as we approach the end of “core” fringe, time for a second look at review coverage. When I last looks at review coverage, at the start, I noticed that initial coverage was good, but the question remained over whether Broadway Baby, Fringe Review and Reviews Hub would stay the course. Review publications have tailed off in mid-fringe before, might that happen this time. Well, the answer appears to be no. I haven’t done much number crunching here, but reviews appear to have come out at an even pace throughout the fringe.

One other caveat I didn’t mention but nonetheless needs considering is how generous the reviews are. It became an open secret last year, when live theatre productions were far and few between, that reviewers were being a lot more supportive than usual – some people even did the analysis and noted that hardly any one- or two-star ratings were given. Well, there’s no obvious sign of this happening here. I don’t remember seeing any one-stars, but I’ve seen a fair number of twos. That doesn’t necessarily mean there’s no leniency – it might just not be so blatant this time – but it does mean you can take the good reviews more seriously than a participation prize.

I haven’t monitored other reviews that music precisely because of the uncertainty over reliability. However, there is one thing that stands out: Jekyll and Hyde: A one-woman show is doing exceptionally well. A five-star from Broadway Baby, and an “Outstanding” from FringeReview (whose ratings are confusing, but Outstanding is still considered an equivalent to five stars). I will hopefully get to see for myself in Buxton shortly, but this could be a front runner for best reviewed new play.

Thursday 24th June – Police Cops: badass be thy name:

Before I come into this review, a regrettable entry in the chrisontheatre corrections corner. When I had previously covered the lastest in the Police Cops trilogy, it was incorrectly suggested that our hero, a 90s raver from Madchester, teams up with a samurai to slay vampires. It has now come to my attention that the vampire slayer is not a samaurai but a vampire-slaying priests. That was an unacceptable oversight as everyone knows priests in horror movies make a living out of this sort of thing. The person responsible for this shoddy journalism has been sacked.

Anyway, on with business. Police Cops: Badass Be Thy Name continues the Pretend Men’s format of trying to condense as many cliches as possible into a single hour, this time going for as many tropes involving vampires and unlikely mentor/apprentice pairings – only this time, the hero the opposite of the trope, our aforementioned raver. Stuck in his monotonous dead-end job, he suddenly sees vampires, and a mysterious vampire slaying priest (not samurai) slaying them. How come he see them when no-one else can? Will this tie in with the unexplained disappearance of his father? Will the priest have a surname of “Badass” in order create an incredibly corny double-meaning of the title of this play?

It is fair to note this trio’s performance was a little rusty, but if anyone can be forgiven for a slightly rusty performance, it’s them. This was easily the complex high-energy devised performance out of everything I saw, and I’m sure they’ll be back at Edinburgh Fringe Pleasance Dome standard in no time. It was also a little unlucky that they had an outdoor venue, because this did have a few scenes which were designed with a dark lighting plot in mind. Luckily, both of this disadvantages can be spun into advantages. As Police Cops fans will know, their longest running joke is their use of crummy props to recreate whatever effects a big-budget movie would do with expensive CGI. Early visual gags such as insides of coats forming vending machines and ping-pong balls for drug-induced eyeballs bring the house down, so when someone forgets to stand in the right place or a hidden figure meant to take us by surprise shows up in broad daylight, qupis and swift recoveries at to the humour.

There is only one worry I have about this, and it follows on from the same observation with Police Cops in Space. The Pretend Men are excellent at getting laughs, but sometimes I wonder if they pursue laughs for the sake of it. Yes, I know it’s a comedy, and a silly comedy designed for laugh-a-minute, but even these stories benefit from consistent characters. Even if the character is a movie cliche. Perhaps I’ve been overdosed on arses – this is Brighton after all – but I have the Devil pulling a moony in mind as an example; that, I feel, undermined an opportunity for a conclusion to the funnier threads about how Lucifer was only evil because the other angels picked on him and pulled to lady angels he fancied. Sometimes it’s better to sacrifice one laugh and get something better elsewhere.

But, hey, who am I to care? No-one’s marking this on character development, they’re marking this on fun, and this is exactly what it delivers. The socially distanced version of The Warren might not be the best venue for this show, but I’m sure they’ll be back indoors in no time and make the best of this again.

Wednesday 23rd June:

One quick note from Brighton. I dropped on the virtual “Future of Brighton Fringe” meeting on Tuesday. Will look at this in more detail when I’m less busy, but in the meantime: one notable detail:

As we all know by now, Brighton Fringe moved back three weeks on the bet (a correct bet, as it turned out) that you would be allowed to perform by the end of May. Until now, I’d assumed this would be temporary and would change back for next year. A June fringe out of necessity was one thing, but hot afternoons and football between them seemed to be denting audiences in some performances.

But wait … it turns out the overwhelming consensus is that most people like the new dates. There is a mood that the late May bank holiday should stay in the fringe dates, but they’d be happy for the rest to stay as it is.

Expect an 80%+ chance of this happening. And expect an even busier summer for those of us who do both Brighton and Edinburgh.

Tuesday 22nd June:

Finally, we have a decision from the Scottish Government – and it’s not too bad. I might be only saying this because my expectations were already at rock bottom, but if we ignore for a moment the questions over how much sooner this decision could have been taken and just look at the announcement in isolation, it’s broadly good news.

So, “Freedom Day” in Scotland is now down as August 9th, down, so the Scottish Government claims, to the success of their vaccine programme. I have some issues with that claim, but this is a theatre blog and not a politics blog so let’s move on. That would allow most of the Edinburgh Fringe to go ahead without restrictions. Before then, however, the stupid rule over 2 metres for performing arts gets changed to 1 metre on July 19th. That is important. There is no guarantee that the August 9th date will stick (and certainly not in Edinburgh where the figures are currently quite concerning). A two week slippage that causes Edinburgh to have to stick with one metre is manageable – after all, Brighton and Buxton are managing with a slippage at this very moment. But an unexpected change from 0m to 2m would be a disaster. I would not have been happy going ahead without this buffer.

However, accompanying this is finally some news of meaningful financial support. I previously said that support for the festival fringe society is not enough – you also need support for the venues. Well, they have gone for support of some outdoor events, in conjunction with the Big Four and a few of the more artsy ones such as Summerhall. Of course, something organised at this short notice doesn’t apply to all venues, so expect grumbles from those who haven’t been supported. The bigger frustration, however is why this took so long. With outdoor events the one thing that was never in doubt, this support could have be arranged two months ago, and done more fairly. Suffice to say that whilst the venues see this as a positive move, they aren’t exactly queuing up to thank Nicola Sturgeon with tears in their eyes.

Too little too late? Probably not are far as “too little” goes – the changes in rules and the support should make a meaningful difference. But as for “too late”? Maybe. Is six weeks really enough time to turn things round? We will find out shortly.

Monday 21st June:

I’m on a sound job for the next three days, so coverage is going to be minimal, but there’s a couple more recommendations I plain forgot about.

Firstly, I forgot Rebel Boob for Speak Up act Out. This was inspired by the artistic director’s own battle with breast cancer, but it looks at the journey to recovery and restarting a life put on hold rather than the fight against cancer itself. Their last Brighton Fringe work, Between You and Me, was very perceptive, so lots of promise here. Brighton Girls’ School, Thursday and Saturday, 7.30.

However, the play I completely missed and would have gone straight to Safe Choice had I seen it is You, a two-hander play about adoption, that tells the story from all perspectives: the birth parents, the adaptive parents, and the child himself. Acclaimed for being moving, it started tonight. After that, it runs tomorrow, Wednesday and Sunday at 7.30 at The Warren.

So apologies for lateness there. Tomorrow, however, is the big day. Exactly what sort of Edinburgh Fringe 2021 are we going to see?

Pages: 1 2 3 4

Brighton Fringe 2020 – at it happens

Sunday 1st November: At that brings to an end my coverage. Technically there are a few Brighton Fringe events still running, but they are mainly online performances, which is just as well all things considered.

To wind up, here’s the scores on the doors:

• Outdoor theatre – both official Brighton Fringe events and unofficial affiliate The Warren Outdoors – has had an excellent season, with ticket sales looking very pleasing for most of the events I checked out. Admittedly the October events had a lot of luck on their side, avoiding most of the bad weather, but that won’t be such a problem in May.
• Less clear what the state is for indoor theatre. Some performances I saw had tiny audiences, but I hear others sold out (albeit a sell-out on severely reduced capacity). I guess the big question will be how well dual live/streamed performances go, or whether there will still be a cause to take this up next May.
• Larger-scale performances in Brighton have been less fortunate – Circus of Horrors was the big casualty, with permission to perform reduced with days’ notice. That’s going to be a big dampener on prospective large-scale acts.
• Warren offshoot Electric Arcade joins Brighton’s line-up of year-round venues, but there’s serious worries over the future of The Rialto. You should be worried about this too – I believe the loss of the Rialto would have repercussions far beyond Brighton.
• Brighton Fringe itself is now being run by The Pebble Trust in return for a bailout, but The Pebble Trust looks like it means business, with risk-sharing models being considered for Fringe 2021.

That’s all from me, and as it happens, all from theatre in general for a bit. Thanks for following this and goodbye.

Saturday 31st October: Ho Hum, Brighton Fringe has been insanely lucky with the wider course of events. Today’s news two weeks earlier would have been a disaster.

But what’s been has been, and amongst what’s already been output are three performances I’ve seen online: one online only, and two live plus online. One important caveat for all of these reviews: I’ve never entirely bought into digital theatre myself, and my concentration in my living room never really matches the undivided attention I give in an auditorium. All three of these plays were complex, so it is entirely possible that had I watched this live – as all three were meant to be done – I may have picked up some things I missed.

First up is Muse 90401. The Warren may have been a big player for Brighton Fringe in everything but name, but this is their sole contribution to official Brighton Fringe, as producer of Fadik Sevin Atasoy’s solo play. The credit this doubtless gets is that, out of all the things I saw at this year’s fringe, this has by far the most ambitious storyline, including Savage Beauty. This is set in a world where there’s a whole army of muses, with, as far as I can gather, at least 90400 other Muses in the same business. This particular one, however, have got the attention of the Muse authorities and is standing for Muse trial for her influence in Tolstoy, Shakespeare and da Vinci’s depictions of Anna Karenina, Cleopatra and the Mona Lisa respectively. Throughout the play, this Muse tells the story of those three women and how she influenced them for the better.

But, try as I might, I just cannot overcome the mind-boggling complexity of this setting. I gather that all Muses ha a Muse Map and use their Muse Magic, but the way they do their Muse stuff seems to arbitrarily vary, from whispering into the artist’s ear to going into a painting the alter a facial expression. In addition, there seems to be a confusingly ad-hoc system of Muse law, and I still can’t work out what she was supposed to have done to attract the wrath of the Muse judge – one would have thought three smash hits under her belt were a good thing, surely? There’s a hell of a lot to take in over 70 minutes, let alone conventional aspects such as characterisation.

Now, I should note that this is heavily based on Turkish folklore (indeed, this play has been performed in both Turkish and English), namely the storytelling form of “Meddah”. So it may well be that someone more used to this style may pick up what I didn’t, and if that’s the target audience, then by all means carry on what you’re doing. But for a wider audience, I cannot see any way round simplifying this somehow. Fadik Sevin Atasoy is clearly a formidable performer, and the most promising story thread I picked up was how none of the great artists she helped remember her. There may be some painful decision ahead on what to keep and explain, and what to leave out, but a more accessible version of this concept could go a lot further.

Next on my list is Make-Up from NoLogo Productions. Out of the three play, I’d say this is the safest, and therefore the most accessible. Much-loved drag queen Lady Christina has just left the stage and is now going back to being Chris. It begins with some frustrations over his career, how he seems to be a novelty for metrosexual men to prove their confidence in their sexuality, but it’s only ten minutes in where Chris notes the lack of a birthday card from his father, that we get to the real subject of the story. Chris’s working-class Irish father, seemingly the butt of too many Irish jokes, coped by deflecting on to other targets of jokes, such as the gays, Jews and Blacks – and when his son comes out, his father would rather save face and cut ties. Disowning his father is easy – the hard bit is keeping in touch with his mother.

It’s a well-written monologue that I suspect too many people will relate to, but the one thing I felt we didn’t hear enough about is, quite paradoxically, Lady Christina herself. The one thing we do hear about the link between the two is the story Chris made up for Lady Christina’s father: something fantastical, but more importantly, everything his real father was not. That was a bit of a missed opportunity, I felt – there could have been so much about how Chris built his later ego as a personal alternative to reality. Make-Up does its job as a tale as coping with family rejection – but be a bit bolder, and this could achieve more.

And finally, Unquiet Slumbers from Different Theatre, perhaps the biggest rising star of Brighton Fringe. Emily Bronte is dying, and in the final few days of her life she is visited by her greatest fictional creation, Cathy from Wuthering Heights. Condemned by her creator to forever wander her ghostly body on the moors, she wishes to discuss her author’s choices. Over Emily’s final week, there will be a lot of dissection of her literary worlds.

I will own up here: I don’t actually know any details of Wuthering Heights outside the Kate Bush song (I saw an Edinburgh Fringe play a few years back that I enjoyed, but it was far too concertinaed to squeeze into under an hour), and as such, I don’t think I picked up on some of the finer references. I therefore get the impression that this is in a similar position to Toby Belch is Unwell, where you really needed a detailed knowledge to Twelfth Night to follow what was going on. My guess is that anyone who knows Cathy Earnshaw well will get the most out of this play.

However, whilst Toby Belch very much belongs as a niche interest, I’m not sure that’s the right philosophy here. There’s plenty of real-life intrigue in the lives of the Bronte sisters, the most well-known being the initial decision to write under male pseudonyms, but Jane Austen openly wrote as a “lady novelist” thirty years earlier. And yet, in the three years that her book was published under the name of Ellis Bell, many critics were convinced the author must be male because of the depiction of cruelty. I’d love to know what Sam Chittenden’s take on this is, because she is very good at making the point in an understated way, but who knows, perhaps on this occasion it was a little too understated.

Friday 30th October: And to complete a roundup of who’s getting going, a quick look at who’s making moves in the north-east:

• Newcastle Theatre Royal, as is now well-known, is going ahead with a big-scale pantomime thanks to a National Lottery grant. However the good news has already been soured by taking on front of house staff from an external agency instead of using their own staff. I will return to this another time.
• Northern Stage, as I have already mentioned, has its first live performance at Christmas, with local favourites Kitchen Zoo doing a small-scale production (details coming Monday). They have also been doing various live performances in Byker, but so far only Byker locals have had the chance to see this live.
• No word from Live Theatre yet, but they have been doing their entry-level writing event 10 Minutes To … for an online audience – normally a low-key affair, this has been very heavily publicised.
• Alphabetti Theatre, having previously hinted there would be no re-opening until next year, have no just announced they are doing a Christmas production after all. This is probably the most innovative ideas, with 50-minute immersive performances to one household bubble of up to 5 staggered to start every 10 minutes.
• The Gala Theatre is definitely not opening until next year as they’ve decided to do some refurbishment now whilst there’s not much trade. However, they are running an audio play Sunset on Tantobie, written by Alphabetti stalwart Gary Kitching and directed by Jake Murray from Durham Newcomers Elysium Theatre.
• Not everybody is pushing forwards, however. In North and South Shields, the respective theatres of The Exchange and Customs House started reopening but then closed again.
• The boldest theatre of all has to be Middlesbrough, who are adamantly going ahead with in indoor performance Dracula on Thursday next week. Middlesbrough pushed ahead with outdoor performances in the summer, so I’m not surprised they are taking the lead now.

Brighton peeps, don’t go away. I have been watching some online Brighton Fringe plays, and I have three reviews coming tomorrow.

Edinburgh Fringe 2019 – as it happens

Wednesday 28th August: So here it is: my pick of the fringe and honourable mentions.

This time round, it was fairly easy to come up with a pick of the fringe, but the borderline between honourable mention and the rest. All the plays I’ve reviewed here had things about them I really liked, even if work needed to be done on the play as a whole. In a less competitive fringe, I would have been happy to rate any of these plays an an honourable mention. In the end, I had to decide based on the state of the play at the moment. Normally I allow the potential of the play to carry more weight, but with all plays having potential I’m using the state now as a tie-breaker.

There’s one title I’m excluding from this list, and that’s From Judy to Bette which I didn’t count as theatre in the end – that, as i said earlier, is more of a musical celebration. But amongst the others, here’s the moment of truth:

Pick of the fringe

The Big Bite-Size Breakfast Show
Great Grimm Tales
Green Knight*
The Rebirth of Meadow Rain
The Red
The Red Hourglass
Sary*
Testament of Yootha
Trainspotting Live*
Will, or Eight Lost years in Shakespeare’s Life

Honourable mention

An Audience with Yasmine Day*
Bad Girls Upset by the Truth
The Grandmothers Grimm*
Ladybones*
Moby Dick
Myra
Princess Party
Ritch Bitch
Showstopper
Stanley
Taboo*

Both categories are listed in alphabetical order, * indicates a production I saw this year prior to the Edinburgh Fringe that was performing in Edinburgh.

So that’s it, the end of my live coverage. Thank you for following this over the course of a month. The roundup will come in due course. Before then, a rest. We all need a rest.

Tuesday 27th August: I know I said I was going to choose pick of the fringe today, but it turns out I need to update yesterday’s info. Turns out you can’t assume a calculation is correct just because it’s in Chortle. The Stage is reporting an 8% increase, and All Edinburgh Theatre is reporting 6%. I’m minded to go with 6%, because this is roughly in line with my own calculation (note to self: yesterday’s “Chortle says 12% and I can’t be bothered to check if they’re right” wasn’t such a good idea after all),  and also that is a number that came from someone from the Festival Fringe Society itself.

The changes for Pleasance and Underbelly of +1% and -1% are still correct as far as I’m aware, but a new figure that’s emerged is a whopping 30% reported by Assembly. I wonder if the New Town is making a comeback, which may or may not be linked to the increased patronage from locals (if they choose to avoid the busiest areas) – even so, it’s difficult to see how that alone could account for a rise that dramatic. But with the Big Four offering similar kins of programmes, what else can explain such a difference in fortunes? That rise accounts for about three-quarters of the fringe-wide increase in sales (although you can expect a lot of ups and downs with other venues, so that’s a simplistic figure).

One possibility this rules out is the suspicion that the rise is is entirely down to more tickets sales for the biggest acts. Had that been the case, you would expect – since most of the biggest names are with the Big Four in the biggest spaces – the Big Four’s sales to be growing across the board. It’s still possible this could be happening in conjunction with other factors that are making these figures so confusing, but if big names are succeeding at the expense of the small names, it will be part of a complicated pattern rather than a simple one.

There is one other notable observation All Edinburgh Theatre has picked up on, which is that the Festival Fringe Society hasn’t actually made a big thing of this; their own story leads with the record number of Edinburgh locals, and you have to read to the final paragraph to see anything about sales. A similar thing happened with the unexpected growth, with prominence given to the number of international performers with the actual growth buried at the bottom of the press release. Previously the Edinburgh Fringe has shouted figures like this from the rooftops, so this year it’s conspicuous by its absence. It seems that whilst the Festival Fringe Society is not discouraging further growth on the fringe, it has stopped encouraging it. And that is interesting

And what does this all mean for the future of Edinburgh Fringe – do you think I’m going to stick my neck out with a prediction for this?

Brighton Fringe 2019 – as it happens

REVIEWS: Skip to: Taboo, How disabled are you?, Ross and Rachel, Freak, Shit Scripts, I Am a Camera, Sary, Wolf Tamer

Wednesday 5th June: And the answer is … 3,841. That is in “Whoah” territory. This is up 293 from 2018’s figure of 3,548. That works out at an 8.3% increase, slightly under yesterday’s indication of 9.5% but still a dramatic increase. Two years ago it looked like Brighton might catch up with Edinburgh. Little chance of this now.

Of course, the harder to answer question is whether a rise of 293 is good or bad. This will depend a lot on what these extra 293 acts consists of. The ideal scenario is that the Festival Fringe Society’s hard work to make the fringe has paid off and more people are able to go. But it could also be that these efforts have got nowhere and the extra 293 are people who are made of money.

There is one oddity in all of this: the Festival Fringe Society have been strangely quiet about this record-breaking fringe. Normally this kind of news is shouted from the rooftops. And this looks like a conscious choice too – Edinburgh Fringe’s own press release gives the number of participating countries as its headline figure, with the size of the fringe little more than a footnote. Make of that what you will.

But we are going to have to leave it there because that is the end of this coverage. I haven’t quite finished with the Brighton Fringe because I will be getting some numbers from Brighton later, and of course I have to put all the reviews into a roundup, but that can all come later. Thank you all for sticking with me over the month, and join me in August when we do the same for Edinburgh.

Tuesday 4th June: I was going to fill the gap before tomorrow with some news that broke about a former Edinburgh Fringe performer that broke during May, but I’ve decided to hold this off for later. This is big news, and it deserves something better than a chaotic mention in an article about another festival.

So instead, a look ahead until tomorrow. The fringe numbers are Edinburgh are a closely-guarded secret and I don’t have any advance information – but we can try to speculate from the registrations so far. There have been several rounds of early bird going out, and on the eve of the final number, there are 3477 listings on the website. One important clarification about this number is that, unlike the paper programme, any shows that are on at two different venues appear twice. Consequently, there will be a bit of double-counting, and you can’t directly compare this to registrations. But you can compare this to the eve-of-programme figure last year, which was 3179.

At face value, this amounts to 9.5%, which one could expect to mean an increase of around this level when the final number comes out tomorrow, if – and this is the big if – the 3477 vs 3179 figure is a valid life-for-like comparison. We know from Buxton that early figures can make things look more sensational than they really are – at one point Buxton’s figures this year were a 73% ahead of the figures the same time a year before ending up with a less dramatic 21%. Part of the reason for the inflation of the early figures was the discounted early bird fee encouraging earlier registering; therefore, we must consider the possibility that this figure is also artificially inflated by earlier registration. Or the 9.5% really could be the shape of things to come. Even with seasoned journalists used to Edinburgh’s figures defying all predictions of peak fringe, a rise of this scale after all the hoo-ha about the cost of the fringe would be a big turn of events.

The other figure that will be of note is Brighton Fringe ticket sales. Unlike Edinburgh, where sales figures always come at the end of the fringe, Brighton is sporadic about whether it gives the figures quickly, or slowly, or not at all – and they have been known to be slow to announce figures that I’d have expected them to shout from the rooftops. However, Julian Caddy kindly offered to supply me with various fringe figures once things have calmed down a bit, so when I have the numbers, I will have comprehensive numbers.

So now we wait for tomorrow. Exciting, isn’t it?

Monday 3rd June: So, here it is, my pick of the fringe.

First of all, this is a theatre blog so my pick of the fringe and honourable mentions are intended for theatre. I have previously included comedy when there’s been enough crossover with theatre to judge is as a comedy theatre piece, but this time everything in the way of comedy has been more like stand-up or sketches. One other omission from this list is How Disabled Are You? – not because it’s any better or worse than the other plays, but because this was too different to the conventional theatre to draw a meaningful comparison.

Out of the eleven left, there were three duds (none of which I chose to review in the end). So out of the remaining eight, here is the list:

Pick of the Fringe

Wolf Tamer
Sary
I Am A Camera
Freak
Ross and Rachel

Special pick of the fringe:

Here We Are Again

Honourable Mention:

Bright Raven
Taboo

As you may notice, this is a bit top-heavy on pick of the fringe, but there has been a good standard of theatre amongst what i saw this year.

All of these will be collated when I get round to doing the roundup, although don’t hold your breath. I have been known to not complete this until after the Edinburgh Fringe – I’ll try to avoid anything that embarrassing this time, but that will depend what’s going on with my life.

Not quite done, yet. We have Edinburgh Fringe’s numbers to cover before we’re done. But it’s almost done now.

Sunday 2nd June: Before going into the awards, a quick digression to some breaking news concerning Edinburgh. There’s been yet another review publication trying to establish itself as a pay-for-review publication. It’s called The Mumble, and the early indication is that it’s trying to use the same arguments that edfringereviews.com tried two years ago. That’s the mild version of events. I’ve also heard allegations they’re specifically targetting groups who don’t know any better. And I’ve heard worse allegations still. However, I’m going to hang fire on repeating the most serious allegations until I’ve had a chance to investigate this better and The Mumble has had a fair chance to respond.

In the meantime – and the reason I’ve brought this up now – I want to say something for any fringe newbies reading this: have nothing to do with any publication that wants payment for a review. Even if you have no ethical qualms over this practice, paid for reviews are worthless. Anybody who’s anybody in the theatre business knows which publications only said nice things about a play because the theatre company paid them to do that. Even the general public are probably going to smell a rat sooner rather than later. Yes, if you’re a new company it’s a struggle to get any kind of review at all, and yes, it sucks if you get no reviews, but trust me, a paid-for review is worse than useless. So steer clear.

Right, back to the awards. Some interesting ones here. Last year there was not name I recognised in the awards, but this time there’s too. Quintessence got the FringeReview Award for Outstanding Theatre – this was not a big surprise because this was already one of the top reviewed plays on FringeGuru and Emily Carding already has an excellent reputation in Brighton. So a little more significant is the New Writing South Award, which went to Sam Chittenden with Clean. As I reported yesterday, she’s already been getting good reviews for all three of her plays – with this added, she looks set to be one of the most looked out-for names next year.

Audience choice of venue wasn’t what I expected – but this might be significant too. It’s gone to Nether Regions, which isn’t a normal venue as such – instead, it’s a pop-up location for one theatre company doing two site-specific/immersive pieces. It’s not even clear if this venue will exist next year. But it does mean that the theatre company behind it is doing something right. That company is 2headedpigeon, who apparently are Brighton regulars. So it looks like it’s worth checking out what they do next year, either in Nether Regions again or another site-specific space. This review is worth a read for some idea of what they do with the space – another group to watch out for next year.

But you want to hear what my pick of the fringe is, don’t you? Come back tomorrow, and I’ll have a decision.

Saturday 1st June: So, here’s the schedule of the remainder of the fringe coverage. Tomorrow (I think) is the fringe awards. After that, I will announce my pick of the fringe. But I’m going to keep the coverage going until Wednesday for one last announcement of indirect relevance to Brighton but major relevance for anyone following festival fringes: Edinburgh Fringe announces its programme- and with that, the number of registrations. There has been a lot of talk over whether Edinburgh has reached its limit, but so far, all predictions of that fringe finally hitting its ceiling have been wrong. Will the prominent discussion of the cost of Edinburgh make things different this time?

Before then, let’s get back to something I’ve not been looking at for ages, and that’s reviews. I’ve given my verdict, but what do other people think. I won’t look again at plays I’ve already checked for reviews (if you want to know my previous findings and can’t wait for the roundup, you know how to use Ctrl-F), and I don’t pay much attention to reviews where they don’t matter (such as shows with long-standing fanbases who will succeed whatever the reviewer think). Eliminating all of that, there’s one thing that’s stands out, and that’s Sam Chittenden’s plays.

She directed Sary and Clean for Different Theatre, and Ross and Rachel for Pretty Villain. Getting a reliable pattern over Brighton is difficult – you’ll rarely have more than two reviews to go on for a single play – but overall the reviews have been pretty good. With one exception, the reviews across the plays have been four or five stars (or, in the case of FringeReview’s ratings system, ratings that imply four or five). In the interests on completeness, I do need to mention there was a two-star review on Ross and Rachel from Broadway Baby, which appears to be mainly about the use of a single actor for both halves of a couple. However, given the level of success the same script had at Edinburgh Fringe for its original run, my guess is this is an outlier – still a valid view, but an outlying one. What is does mean is that Sam Chittenden has probably secured her place as one of Brighton’s best-known names for future fringes.

How Disabled Are You? also seems to be doing well in the reviews, although the caveat that applies to all political theatre is that it’s difficult to tell whether the good review is approval of the play or the cause the play is promoting. The most interesting read is from Disability Arts – this covers both the play and the issue, so it’s only a sort-of review, but it’s a thoughtful examination of both that is worth the time. This could a front-runner in the awards tomorrow, so this is the one to watch out for.

Next update will be after the awards are announced.

Friday 31st May: There’s only one thing at Brighton left to look out for during the fringe, and that’s the awards. The significance can vary from year to year – often it comes down to chance whether I’ve heard about the winners. One thing that may be of interest is the winner of best venue. Junkyard Dogs expanded to a three-space venue after winning the award two years running. Will this award this year be a forerunner of the next emerging venue? Or will Junkyard Dogs make it a hat trick.

But it’s time to turn my attention back to the north-east. I need to have a look at what’s coming up, and over this weekend I hope to get the next season’s recommendations written up. But the thing that is on now is A Thousand Splendid Suns at Northern Stage. This story is one of two very famous novels by Khaled Hosseini (set in Afghanistan, much of it under the rule of the Taleban. I don’t know this story but I do know The Kite Runner, which is excellent, so I’m confident the same astute observations will work here. Northern Stage’s new writing is about as hit-and-miss and you’d expect any new writing theatre to be, but Northern Stage has an excellent track record with adaptations on the main stage, whether producing along, or co-producing as it is i with Birmingham Rep this time. This runs until the 15th June

The other thing coming up soon, however, has just been to Brighton, and it’s #BeMoreMartyn. The tribute to Martin Hett comes to Live Theatre from Thursday to Saturday next week. I have a rule that tours that take in Brighton are still eligible for the Brighton Fringe roundup if I catch it elsewhere on the tour, so maybe this will be joining the roundup.

Speaking of which, I’d better start deciding on my own pick of the fringe. No decision yet – expect a lot of deliberating tomorrow.

Edinburgh Fringe 2018 – as it happens

This page will be added to over the course of the Edinburgh Fringe. Keep returning here for more updates, at least once per day.

REVIEWS: Skip to: Eight, Narcissist in the Mirror, Sexy Sweaty Party Party, House of Edgar, My Brother’s Drug, Por Favor, Maz and Bricks, All Out of Time, Hunch, Bite–Size, Kin, Year Without Summer, Build a Rocket, Notflix, Match, The Fetch Wilson, You’re a Good Man Charlie Brown, This Is Just Who I Am, Proxy, Neverwant, Vivian’s Music, 1969

Sunday 2nd September: And that bring us to the end of the Edinburgh Fringe live coverage. It’s not quite the end of all things Edinburgh, because there’s still the fallout of a few events at the end of the fringe to be reckoned with, such as the allegations over behaviour of venues and the stats for growth, but this will rumble on way beyond August.

Thank you to everyone who stuck with this through the month. In the end all the reviews will go into a roundup, but before then I have a backlog to clear going back to July. Thanks to everyone who invited me to review their shows, and to everyone who made the effort to make this fringe what it is. If I couldn’t see you, my apologies, there’s only a limit to what I can see. If you’re determined to see me, ask again, because I value polite persistence.

I will now join you in a month-long hibernation. Thank you and goodnight.

Saturday 1st September: And this is it. I have made my decision on what to put in Pick of the Fringe. For those of you who have been following this regularly, a reminder that I am a lot more choosy at Edinburgh than I am at Brighton or Buxton. Previously, shows that made it to pick of the fringe at one of these festivals have only made it to honourable mention. If you are not on the list, that does not mean I hated your show – merely that it’s a fiercely contested list and not everyone can be a winner.

As before, shows marked in (brackets) are shows I saw in the past year prior to Edinburgh. In general, I don’t have time to see plays I’ve seen earlier in the year, but in order to give them a fair chance they are eligible to be in the list if they performed at Edinburgh. Only shows I particularly liked get this treatment – if I was less enthusiastic, it’s only fair to wipe the slate clean, and start again.

So, here we go …

Pick of the Fringe:

Vivian’s Music, 1969
The Fetch Wilson
Proxy
Build a Rocket
Big Bite-Size Breakfast Show
Maz and Bricks
House of Edgar
Eight
(Margaret Thatcher Queen of Soho)

Honourable mention:

Hunch
Neverwant
Por Favor
My Brother’s Drug
(Antigone na h’Eireann)
(One-Woman Alien)
(Elsa)
(Doktor James’s Bad Skemes)

Full details will come in the roundup (whenever I get round to it). You can stop the drum roll now.