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Sawdust Symphony Zoo Southside   “Sawdust Symphony” appears at Edinburgh Fringe as part of the Made in Germany showcase.  This is an incredibly unique production, made with incredible skill and love and it is definitely in my top ten shows of the Fringe. Ever. It has been performed over 100 times already, so it is slick, elegant and witty. Three men Michael Zandl, David Eisele and Kolja Huneck take to the stage with a heap of wood, power drill, hammers, lathe and a bucket of strange looking goop to present this hard to classify but absolutely unmissable hour of clowning-circus-theatre-dance and a lot of sawdust. The three are circus performers from Rotterdam and have worked together many times.  Here they share their obvious love of creating in a number of ways. On an elevated stage of wooden floorboards, a host of tools, timber and elements to support the crazy antics are hidden from sight until needed.   They call it a symphony but for my money this has the scale of an opera.  The show begins with the gents competing with each other to build what becomes a small chair each using three very different methods. Drill, nails or wood glue.  Then they attempt to sit on these chairs. This is humorous and eases the audience into the show that become increasingly bizarre.  Trap doors, surprise entrances and incredible feats of catch and juggling ensue. Oversized nails pop up through the floorboards.  Hammers are juggled. A spinning top is whittled and then becomes part of a mechanism of something much larger. One artist who wears a dress-like costume over his pants becomes a whirling dervish with a Cyr wheel – the activities are hypnotic and beautiful. And serve to move away from the prosaic to the poetic.   The lighting is superbly golden and highlights the wood textures and colour. An evocative and eclectic soundscape underscores the non-verbal action. I would hate to be part of the team who have to clean up afterwards.  I am sure sawdust is found in the oddest of places long after the season has finished.   This is a celebration of DIY, or working at a human scale and of finding the joy in success and failure. On the company website we are told “This piece talks about the human desire to create: the process from vision to construction, the tragedy of work and the relationship between tools and humans. Obsessed characters discover and transform their space and themselves to take the spectator into a unique DIY experience. “Sawdust Symphony” is an intense dialogue between satisfaction, frustration and the smell of gasoline.”   This is a must-see for anyone in Edinburgh.  It’s family friendly and showtime is 10am.  Start your day on a high because this show hits the nail on the head. Literally! Kate Gaul

My Mother’s Funeral: The Show Roundabout   Kelly Jones’ play for Plaines Plough asks what happens if a loved one dies, and you can’t afford to pay for the funeral? Abigail is an emerging playwright under commission for a new play. She is anxious about the reception of her newest submission, “ Gay Termites in Space”.  Literary manager, Darren, assures her that her play is good, but he wants something different from a writer with her background. He urges her to write about what he thinks she knows best. And he wants it gritty, challenging and written from the perspective of someone who lives in a housing estate. The play begins as a satire on how the theatre industry treats working-class writers and the way it often gatekeeps the kinds of stories they can tell. The three actors in “My Mother’s Funeral: The Show” relish this story line and knowing laughs and groans from the audience suggest – sadly - the experience is not unique!   Abigail reluctantly delivers. The theatre company will pay a fee. You see, her mother has just passed away and Abigail and her brother can’t afford to pay for an oak coffin with brass handles like her mother always wanted; she can’t even afford to pay for the most basic funeral package. As an emerging playwright, however, she can turn her trauma into theatre in the hopes of acquiring a commission that will help her meet the funeral costs. It’s a bit of a long shot but no one is thinking clearly at this major life moment. Kelly Jones has created a touching portrait of the brother and sister around the loss of their mother. Abigail has taken control of organising a funeral while her brother smarts from the fact that he believes he was always second in his mother’s affections. Grief is on hold as Abigail desperately meets deadline after deadline from the literary manager and the actor on board to play the mum.  It is a funny play that has a strong emotional throughline. From playwright Kelly Jones: “Like most of my work My Mother’s Funeral: The Show” is inspired by something true; a relative passed away and we couldn’t afford a funeral. Naively, I hadn’t realised we don’t all get treated the same when we die. I’d been brought up with the old adage that death is the leveller between the classes. That is not true: dignity comes at a high cost and those with the least (as always) have to pay the most” Abigail is played by an energy fuelled Nicole Sawyerr. Her increasingly frenetic trajectory is both engaging and terrifying. Samuel Armfield is both the toffy literary manager and her brother. It is such a beautiful contrast in this double and with the change of a jacket and stance it is delightful to see Armfield’s work.  Debra Baker plays Abigail’s mum with grace.  She then doubles an actress who will play the mum in the showing. Baker gives us a masterclass.  This is a tight three hander plays seamlessly in the round.  Like all great plays we laugh and cry as it reveals many truths about the theatre industry, grief and the business of dying. Review by Kate Gaul

Gilbert and Sullivan's Improbable New Musical: ...and Helen theSpaceTriplex I have always been curious about the Coily Darts – an amateur company from Loughborough (UK) – who perform for a very short run in Edinburgh every year.  So, at 9.45am one morning I attended “Gilbert and Sullivan's Improbable New Musical: ...and Helen”.  It’s a terrific idea – telling the largely unknown story of the Helen Lenoir who is behind much of the success of G&S and the Savoy operas.   In an afterlife, Gilbert and Sullivan decide to acknowledge Helen Carte’s contribution to their legacy. They create a new comic operetta based upon her life, though Gilbert insists on adding a few plot twists! Helen Carte Boulter also known as Helen Lenoir, was a Scottish businesswoman known for her diplomatic skills and grasp of detail. Beginning as his secretary, and later marrying, impresario and hotelier Richard D'Oyly Carte, she is best remembered for her stewardship of the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company and Savoy Hotel from the end of the 19th century into the early 20th century. She was a visionary who also believed in the power of ensemble and insisted that chorus members have a voice at board level. She attended the University of London from 1871 to 1874 and pursued brief teaching and acting careers. In 1877 she obtained employment with Richard D'Oyly Carte and became his assistant and, later, business manager. She helped to produce the Gilbert and Sullivan and other Savoy Operas, beginning with “The Sorcerer” in 1877 and helped Carte with all his business interests. One of her principal assignments was to superintend arrangements for American productions and tours of the Gilbert and Sullivan operas. She married Richard in 1888. During the 1890s, with her husband's health declining, Helen assumed increasing responsibility for the businesses, taking full control upon his death in 1901. Although the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company's operations decreased after Richard's death, Helen staged successful repertory seasons in London from 1906 to 1909, establishing that the Gilbert and Sullivan operas could continue to be revived profitably; the company continued to operate continuously until 1982. “Gilbert and Sullivan's Improbable New Musical: ...and Helen” highlights Helen’s diplomacy (appeasing their many arguments), her sharp business acumen (ensuring the operettas’ longevity) and her vision in shaping modern theatre. Remarkable achievements for a Victorian woman and much to celebrate. The Coily Darts are not really writers, and the clunky release of information is an excuse to find appropriate songs from the repertoire to complete the story. A cast of 8 plus MD make for a good enough sound and the ensemble get to show off their energetic choreography even if it leaves many breathless at times. Occasionally the text is muffled, and the company needs reminding that attention to those consonants is essential.    Mutton chops abound.  Of course, it would be great to see these 4 central characters rendered in a more contemporaneous way but that’s not Coily Dart’s jam either. Being in an audience of G&S natives was a unique experience for this Australian.  You can never do better than the G&S plot twists and even in this story the baby swapping incident from  “HMS Pinafore” finds its place. Kate Gaul

Taiwan Season: Palingenesis Assembly Dance Base   “Palingenesis” by the Taiwanese D_Antidote Production is unlike anything I have ever seen.  From the press release: “Founded in 2022, D_Antidote Production is an aesthetically multi-disciplinary company dedicated to making work that isn't limited by form but for which the body is often the best vessel or vehicle for ideas and feelings. Drawing inspiration from both societal life and imaginative landscapes, the company wants to construct a creative mirror in which spectators might seek their own life remedies. The ultimate aspiration is to unite people and be a source of warmth.”    Three masked male bodies morph in and out of incredible shapes that are intertwined. Are they a primordial or intergalactic organism?  A waking dream? Or is this a meditation of the themes of rebirth and life cycle? Almost four years in the making, “Palingenesis” is inspired by the phenomenon of “rat kings”. When a group of rodents hibernates, their tails can become knotted together by blood, ice or faeces, so that, on waking, they must function as a single entity. Choreographed by Taiwanese Chuang Po-Hsiang this is an undeniable event and one that resonates long afterwards.   The masks stretch over the face completely. Large eyes cover the dancers’ features. Deprived of their senses, the three figures see, smell, hear and taste through skin, the collective skin of the beings they create from movement to movement. This show dismantles human shapes to create a greater one, made of individuals bound to each other like the ‘rat king’. Despite their identities being eroded by their masks and collective movements, some moments remain where individuality finds its way to emerge in the performance. Nonetheless, only together can the bodies move: choreographer Po-Hsiang Chuang suggests a reflection on individualistic societies and on the importance of community, which is possibly the only chance towards evolution and metamorphosis.   “Palingenesis” means regeneration and there’s a cyclical nature to this work. There is clearly a parallel, too, with human behaviour, but the thrill of this piece is witnessing something that looks as if it’s arrived from another world.       The sheer amount of sweat and athleticism is incredible.  When the bodies aren’t moving sensually around each other they are slamming onto the floor – multiple times. The narrative and cohesion of these dancers is truly phenomenal.  Supported but lighting to create a shadow play and add to the dreamlike (or nightmarish) quality of the work. The Taiwanese program at Edinburgh Fringe is diverse and worth catching as much of it as possible.  “Palingenesis” is one of these. Kate Gaul

Book of Dew Zoo Playground   Produced by Tide & Foam Productions; created and performed by Sid Ahang and Connor Lifson “Book of Dew” is miniature choreography of objects and the human body in an intimately staged performance at Zoo Playground. Tide & Foam Productions creates works of “theatrical speculation” across media. We are drawn to the magic of the uncanny and the delight of the unexpected. Their website tells us “Tide & Foam Productions is based on all three coasts of the United States. With our friends and collaborators, we develop projects in New York City, New Haven, Chicago, and the Bay Area. Lightweight, flexible, and low budget, our methods prioritize adaptable production designs that fit small spaces and facilitate intimate experiences.”   The audience enter a tiny room and are confronted with a wooden wall in which various hatches can open.  It is like looking at an oversized book.  The lights dim and the magic begins.  It is the story of a Spider, the moon and the dew.  Story telling devises include recorded voice over (Anna Zheng), fabric in water behind glass, intricate cut outs, light and smoke. Music is also employed in this part children, part grown-up’s tale (Sebastian Blue Hochman). Spider loves the Dew and wants to keep its beauty for herself. She spins a web in the cosmos to trap it so the moon can never go down and the dawn will never break. The Dew, however, only wants to feel the warmth of the sun and tries to persuade spider to let the moon go free. Through the performance we follow a visually poetic path of negotiation and final resolution. “Book of Dew” weaves a spider web of fantastical fragments: water droplets, a river in the air, glistening stardust – the dew of transient experience emerges and evaporates at sunrise.   The entire presentation is very delicate, dreamlike and I wasn’t looking for logical connections.  The two performers spoke to the audience at the conclusion of the show to explain that it is very new, and they are keen to hear from audiences about what worked and what didn’t. They handed around a very beautiful postcard with their details on it and how to get in touch. This kind of thoughtfulness and openness is a lovely quality reflected in the production.   The story focuses on the importance of taking responsibility for the bigger picture and the environment, over our own self-centred needs. It’s timely and delivered in a gently, quite way that is a much-needed sanctuary from the hustle and bustle of the Edinburgh Fringe. Take some time out and experience this tiny gem.    Kate Gaul

The Flock and Moving Cloud Zoo Southside   Scottish Dance Theatre presents a double bill of very different works both in style and atmosphere- “The Flock” choreographed by Roser López Espinosa and “Moving Cloud” choreographed by Sofia Nappi.  This is a spectacular program and if one was feeling a little jaded and worn out by many so-so offerings at Edinburgh Fringe then this program entirely reinvigorates. In both pieces the mere eight dancers have us imagine there are at least twice as many on stage. Choreographed by two leading female choreographers this is work that awakens the mind touches your heart.   Inspired by the migration of birds, “The Flock” takes ideas around bird formations as the dancers form a migratory V on the stage.  Working in strict formation the work suddenly surprises as pairs start moving slightly out of sequence and then return to the strict unison once more.  It is mesmerising.  The dancers wear contemporary clothes in shades of grey and blue on a completely white floor and back wall – it’s like a cloud (costume designer Lluna Albert).  The eight dancers eventually fall only to begin again in duos and trios in work that is acrobatic with bodies thrown around the stage. To end the piece the dancers reform as a group and in an exhilarating end appear to leap from the stage into the darkened wings. It was a high to end on after the hypnotic charm that guided the main choreography. Original music by Mark Drillich and Ilia Mayer. What follows is a 15-minute interval.  Watching the mechanists strip the stage of the white surrounds is worth staying in the house for.  They also work with precision and economy and before we know it the stage is a darkened abyss once more.   “Moving Cloud” literally bursts onto the stage.  If “The Flock” is about birds, then “Moving Cloud” is a euphoric high intensity study of humanity.  Apart from the energy it is the initial burst of white costumes that grab my attention (costume designer Alison Brown).  All wear something inspired by what I think of as Scottish folk wear and a cross between something more contemporary.  All have long woolly socks. As the company builds on stage, not every costume is white – there is a mustard shirt, a grey kilt, beige pants.  Visually this really is stunning.  Movement is fluid and expressive.  Sometimes in silence.    But the music!  Played by the band TRIP it is Celtic, loud, and beyond fabulous. As soon as the piece starts something happens to the audience – they are clapping and cheering.  Clearly this music taps into the DNA of the largely Scottish audience and it’s as if we are all hypnotised. TRIP are a Glasgow based outfit and unite the kindred Celtic traditions of Scotland, Ireland and the Isle of Man.  Their trademark sound celebrates the band’s roots in tradition, whilst showcasing contemporary cross-genre flare. Alongside original music composed by Donald Shaw, the final movement in the performance features their own compositions.   The dancers move as if inspired by the elements or sometimes the gestures are idiosyncratic, whimsical, humorous. A masterful program of two very different works. Utterly dazzling! Kate Gaul

Puddles and Amazons Summerhall   “Puddles and Amazons” is a storytelling show about a boy who eats an ice lolly when he finds out his mother’s died. He freezes internally, indefinitely, sentenced to a life of hot showers and steroid moisturising creams. A decade later, he falls in love. He thaws - and it makes a terrible mess. Writer, Performer and bedroom foley artist Guy Woods tells the story of a boy’s chilly adolescence. The work features live audio mixing, audience interaction, and quite a bit of water. As we enter the Demonstration room we are confronted with a child’s paddling pool, a bucket of water and an opaque hospital type screen, and some technical equipment.  Woods enters dressed in a swimming togs and pours a bucket of water over his head.  He’s about to tell us of a family tragedy and a fictional heart condition.  The water gets a special audience warning and all those with weak bladders look at the door.  But there is no turning back and we are here to hear. Piss is mentioned – a lot. Once Woods is dried and dressed, he introduces us to his foley – basically he will make sound effects using a loop peddle and this immediately transports us to the beach, for example or a school canteen.  Often the audience is called upon to make the initial sounds which he cleverly bends and plays as a scene setting device.  It’s a fun way to involve the audience and everyone is on board. Woods is a charming storyteller, and this is the coming of age story about a boy called Simon.  More critically I would say that the setup of the soundscapes takes time and occasionally my attention wandered, and I wanted him to get on with the story. Some of the most amusing touches are the sounds of a distant seagull, or footsteps crunching on an ice cream cone. There is a strong narrative at work, and we travel with Simon from boyhood through adolescence.  Having lost his mother at an early age he must make his way in the world with a strange condition of his own (you’ll have to go see it to find out more about that!) The structure is episodic, and we meet other characters along the way.  Simon’s dad, the twitcher, is memorable as the inarticulate and not so distant human being who is always trying to connect with his son.  This relationship adds emotional truth to the story and is the one constant – if terrifying – relationship that Simon has across his life. The writing has many strong images, identifiable relationships and surreal situations. “Puddles and Amazons” is a piece about grief and love. The title is a cute take on the English children’s adventure novel “Swallows and Amazons” which also involves a lot of water in its telling. Woods has fashioned a grand adventure of his own complete with whimsical touches, flights of fancy and a metaphorical thawing when the time is right. This piece is an amusing hour, and it is interesting to contemplate where Wood’s suite of talents might take him in the future. Review by Kate Gaul

A Letter to Lyndon B Johnson or God: Whoever Reads This First theSpaceUk Drawing on their own experiences of being in military families comes this inspired two-hander about the idealised American childhood, and the boys it left behind. From Edinburgh Fringe Festival darlings (consecutive 2022 and 2023 Fringe First Award winners) New Yorkers Xhloe and Natasha in association with the SpaceUK present “A Letter to Lyndon B Johnson or God: Whoever Reads This First.” In what is surely a masterclass for the ideal fringe drama this goes straight into my top ten for this year (including their beautifully absurd “What is They Ate the Baby?”- which also explores American archetypes). A bare stage save for a large truck tyre, a soundscape of birds and insects at night, a monumentally beautiful script and adorable characters instantly transport us to a world with the feel of Huckleberry Finn, but Lyndon B Johnson is president of the USA, and the Beatles are hot. Johnson, a Silver Star-decorated Commander in the Second World War, had a presidential term that both began and ended bathed in blood. The 36th President was sworn in on Air Force One in the two hours following the assassination of John F. Kennedy. During Johnson's six-year term, he saw the number of troops deployed in Vietnam blow out to over half a million. I am assuming the title refers to civil rights leader Jackie Robinson’s letter to LBJ in 1967 of an impassioned plea to end the war in Vietnam. It is an eccentric title, but it gives a profound resonance to the work as we watch Ace (Natasha Roland) and Grasshopper (Xhloe Rice) play a pair of muddy kneed 7-year-old boy scouts in gloriously decorated costumes. They recount boyish escapades, they speak in codes, they dare each other to be great, they play soldiers, they swing rope.  Sneaking out of the house one night to the station of their small town, they eagerly await the passing of a train in which rides LBJ. In the shadow of the Vietnam war, people of the USA clung to LBJ as a figure of stability and sureness an do these two boys.  Both have absent father figures and higher powers become stand-ins for authority – God is in there too, but she/he gets less of a footprint in this play except when God is mixed up with LBJ! Ace and Grasshopper are learning to be men. To make a promise, a man must both spit and shake on it, there is nothing greater a man can be than a soldier, and never (ever) hold hands with another man (unless it’s an extreme circumstance). What is the moment that a boy becomes a man? If the American idea of masculinity -one that equates violence with strength - makes casualties out of men, then in war for what are young men dying? The Beatles tunes accompanied deftly on harmonica by the performers: “Ob-La-Di. Ob-La-Da” expresses their vitality and fizz, “I want to Hold your Hand” perhaps expressing deeper (private) feelings.  The harmonica is also an eerie instrument, and the performers use it to great effect later in the piece. I guess it’s because the era they portray just wasn’t as great in hindsight. Performed in the round the effortless choreography, overall staging and physicality is elegant and assured. The playwrighting is rigorous and wastes not a moment or a word in conveying story, character and theme. In a quotation from Broadway World: “co-writers and performers Xhloe and Natasha said, "When you're raised as a girl in America, and perhaps everywhere else too, boyhood is this mythic experience tied to nationalism and nostalgia, it made us feel like we were missing out on something. We longed to be treated like a boy, to be let into this club that had been portrayed in American Pop culture since the 30s, scraping your knees, playing ball, and being a good American Boy Scout. Part of growing up for us was realizing this desire is manufactured by the same systems that benefit from the myth that America has fallen from some former time of "greatness". We want to capture the rude awakening of realizing you might not be the good guy, the devastation of losing your religion, it's something we still grapple with ."   “A Letter to Lyndon B Johnson or God: Whoever Reads This First” is a triumph. Go see it!! Kate Gaul

James Rowland Dies at the End of the Show Summerhall    James Rowland is a Fringe Festival stalwart, and his shows are what I would describe as quintessentially fringe.  I really cannot imagine them working anywhere else (but I am sure they do) and that is exactly why “James Rowland Dies at the End of the Show” is high amongst my top ten picks of this year’s Edinburgh Fringe. Go buy tickets NOW!!!   James has been making shows on his own (with loads of friends, directors and dramaturgs) for 8 years now, he tours the UK most of the time and hangs out with his partner and cat the rest. He tells stories. And the stories are the star of the show. These stories are genuinely shared with an audience.  We feel part of them (the opposite is when storytellers speak AT you!  Ergh!!).  There is little in the way of technical support – he works with his iPhone, a speaker, and a floor light.  He is dressed in a mostly open hospital gown and a pair of pantyhose, mis-matched socks and bright red crocks. He carries notes to which he may or may not refer. “James Rowland Dies at the End of the Show” is the final part of a trilogy. There is no single narrative – rather this show finds connections through anecdotes, observations, smaller stories, music inspired by thinking of his mortality.  A visible clock counts down behind him – a visible reminder of time’s winged chariot! But it is not a sad show or a show about grief.  Rather it takes life and love by the horns and finds the joy in existence. We journey through moments in his life: his love for football, his holiday in France, his favourite art installation where papers are flying away.   One of Rowland’s first anecdotes - and one to which we return - is the remarkable story of Dr Carl Sagan and the making of the golden record sent to outer space on Voyager I and II in 1977 and how Sagan fell in love and married his colleague Ann Druyan (and a reminder that Sagan was in fact married at the time to a previous colleague – he had a type!).  The story of the golden record is one that fires the imagination and can provide a perspective on what it is to be human. Robin Hood occupies most of the piece.  With rambunctious zest Rowland inhabits many characters as he tells of Robin Hood's life, loves and conquests. Finally, we watch Rowland shoot one golden arrow across the sky towards his final resting place.   In an interview, James Rowland described his intentions with “James Rowland Dies at the End of the Show” - “I want it to be joyful, to be totally honest I want it to be riot, I'm trying to make a show that people are delighted they came to.”   Go see “James Rowland Dies at the End of the Show” for an hour of genuine joy and to witness a master storyteller at work! Kate Gaul

A Little Inquest into What We Are All Doing Here Zoo Southside   Josie Dale-Jones sits at a small table to one side of the stage. In 2022 Dale-Jones and her company were supposed to be touring a piece made for children and their parents and guardians called “The Family Sex Show”, a theatrical attempt to reimagine how children and their carers might talk openly and without shame about sex and relationships, boundaries and consent.   A Daily Mail article and online misinformation unleashed a maelstrom. Dale-Jones was dubbed a paedophile and encouraged to kill herself; someone threatened to bomb the theatres where the show was programmed. Nobody making these threats had seen the show (the hadn’t been fully finished at the time), but theatres cancelled the tour, and the Arts Council withdrew support.  All this information is presented in a series of monologues. Dale-Jones plays a section of a horrible podcast and sits listening as swearing and insults continue. A fabulous article written by Dale-Jones for the Guardian  goes into some detail about the show, its content and intentions. I encourage you to read it as the implications of the actions around the cancellation of the show have genuine resonance.   Importantly, she notes, at the time: “A relatively small media storm closed a show no one had watched. Beyond arts and culture, what does this reveal about the health and resilience of our public conversation? How does this event speak to power in the UK? Who has it, and how will they use it? Who gets to decide what on behalf of other people? I think what has happened is far more frightening than the performance. We still hope to find a home for this show. And now I am left in the position to wonder: where do we go from here?”   “A Little Inquest into What We Are All Doing Here” is a story about resilience and survival. It’s about courage and determination. How did all this happen? How did her work become hit by the spotlight (and made explicit in the opening moments of the show)?  And importantly what is the impact of our increasing inability to agree to disagree about all sorts of things effects our interactions with each other. Dale-Jones explores whether educations is keeping children safe or adults comfortable – and at what point reasonable critique becomes hate, and verbal online abuse escalates into real-life physical violence. At the end of the piece the show has become a duologue with a man. “No-one comes out of it very well,” she says, but as the man she’s talking to replies: “Maybe that’s what makes it interesting.”    I’d describe the show as at the pointy end of the scale. Its conceptual at one point when Dale-Jones takes to the stage to do a dance routine to “That’s Entertainment” dressed in a gold lamé suit.  But then her initial entrance is rolling across the stage in what looked like a sleeping bag for which I can find no explanation. Because we are participating in the work of a seasoned theatre maker there are a couple of coups de theatres involved which certainly move it away from it being a dry talking head type experience. Which is what it may sound like.  In a nutshell – a culturally significant argument delivered with panache and intelligence by a charismatic and driven artist.      Kate Gaul

Common is as Common Does Zoo Southside   Scottish company 21Common present a “dance spectacular” mashing karaoke carnage and feats of physical endurance with kick out time at the Grand Ole Oprey (Glasgow, not Nashville). Using tropes of Western movies, it explores how poverty and violence shape a man and can destroy a family.   This is an exploration into a family circle that more often resembles a bear pit. The empty stage becomes a saloon (with country classic karaoke), speakeasy and bare-knuckle boxing ring. It’s a Wild West sitting room with those who spit and those born to fight. The Wild West as analogy for a turbulent family and domestic violence is a clever one.  The violence is expected and slightly more “palatable” when framed this way.   In their work, 21Common blend iconoclastic references, pop culture and preoccupation with risk and danger to create “spectacular” dance experiences. Its key collaborators are Artistic Directors Lucy Gaizely and Gary Gardiner, Scotland’s leading learning-disabled dancer Ian Johnston.   I didn’t find this work “spectacular” as advertised and once the show began I wondered if the work is youth theatre working with professional mentors.I don’t think I was the only audience member confused. With a post show google I discovered that indeed 21 Common are a charity based in Glasgow who are known for creating work with and for their local communities. The ensemble for this show is made up of both professional and non-professional performers from Paisley, Linwood and Johnstone. I am not sure why there's nothing on the venue posters or on the Edinburgh Fringe website to support this description.  The issue being that it takes a while to work out exactly what is going on within the group onstage. And it felt weird having the older dude leading the company without context.   The dancing is in usually unison and behind the main older dude who speaks in monologues.  With a group of 12 onstage the images can be complex and quickly created and transformed.  This is strong work. The older dude is charismatic – speaking and moving with ease. Scenes are well choreographed, accompanied by video projection and titles as we go.   But it’s a tough watch. We meet The Man, The Woman, The Rascal and The Boy. Poverty, desperation and lack of opportunity just grind people down and the cost is immense. Fortunately, a few scenes as I mentioned are accompanied by upbeat music and glorious karaoke from the wild western music canon. The use of romantic contrast here is unique and resonates well for the audience. Even when the onstage action is clearly born of a domestic dispute.   The show is well conceived, rough around the edges, and a strong testimony for working with community to find a voice. Review by Kate Gaul

The History of Paper Traverse   Dundee Rep and Traverse present this lively and lovely production of “The History of Paper” by Oliver Emanuel. It’s part drama, part musical; a play with music I suppose it could be called. It started life as a radio drama; following the Scotland-based English playwright’s early death aged 43, Gareth Williams has adapted the drama into a musical love story about a relationship that blossoms following a letter of complaint. It all starts when a jilted lover (Christopher Jordan-Marshall) and a go-ahead journalist (Emma Mullen)'s exchange a note of complaint. They meet. There’s chemistry. She's new to the area and gives him her number on a scrap of paper. He is hopelessly sentimental and keeps everything yet somehow manages to lose this vital piece of paper. A postcard, origami cranes, Chinese lanterns and confetti are retrieved from a memory box to make a paper trail marking moments in a relatable and engaging story of love and loss. The medium of paper is love’s element here. Every ticket, menu, shopping list, letter and bus ticket becomes a meaningful moment in the blossoming romance between the neighbours. Everything reminds him of her, and he wants to always be reminded of her. It's a sweet story and “ A History of Paper” begins as a rom-com. “It’s a show about all the losses we go through in life, from the minor losses, like losing your keys or a piece of paper, to the greater losses,” director Kemp says. “One of the characters is writing a book called “A History of Paper”, and on a bigger scale we’re losing paper. There might come a time in the future when paper is enormously precious.” Have a think - in a world that is becoming increasingly digital, it’s remarkable how random little pieces of paper can document a life. It is a fertile theme, one that finds space for a song about George Wylie’s full-sized paper boat that set sail on the Clyde in 1989, a symbol of old industry and new imagination. Like the pages of a book, filled with emotions, insights and ideas, paper (an now digital paper-like tablets) organises our thoughts, defines us and carries us into the future. We don’t ever learn the characters names – they are just He and She.  But these characters skilfully slip in and out of character, storyteller, dramatic dialogue and duet. First romance to heart wrenching and devastating loss – when tragedy strikes the man, he loses the capacity to speak. Musical director Gavin Whitworth provides a cheery presence and accompaniment on the piano and occasionally adds to the vocals as the drama reaches its height.  The chemistry between the actors and engagement with the audience as well as the overall likeability of the production is what gives the play such a surprising and triggering twist. When it comes, audiences cry out and tears flow – I don’t think there was a dry eye in the house.  “The History of Paper” has an unexpected power with plenty of contemplate inside what at first appears as a pleasurable rom-com. Kate Gaul