SEARCH RESULTS

Forked Summerhall   “Forked” by Jo Tan is a powerful, pacy one-woman play. Jo Tan also performs the central character to Jeanette Peh. It depicts the journey of a young Singaporean woman, Jeanette, leaving her life in Singapore behind for her dreams at a drama school in the UK. Her image is all Nortting Hill, Hugh Grant, books stores and cups of tea. Based on Jo Tan’s real-life experience at renowned French clown school École Philippe Gaulier, this enthralling account fiercely captures the feeling of having to pretend when you just don’t fit in. The play’s focus on grappling with (Chinese) Singaporean identity in a global mess of a world is not new but Jo Tan’s energy, good humour and grace present it afresh.   Tan, like Peh made a hard left in life, forgoing a possible law or business career to become an actor.  Her father’s plans (and savings) for a business degree in Melbourne are scotched when Peh takes the money and runs to Notting Hill and dreams of becoming a star. This is a laugh hour loud hour in the theatre.  Tan is a gifted actor and brilliant mimic, and a larger cast of characters are given vitality and truth through phy sicality and accent. Top of the list is her extreme rendition of the French acting coach Baptiste Laroche – truth is often stranger than fiction they say, and this guy was the best – bent over his walking stick and laying down his pearls of wisdom to his class of hopefuls and demanding that they be natural and speak in their “native language” and WHY do they all choose Shakespeare for their monologues?!  Jeanette Peh (our main character) speaks with a clipped British accent (she decided as a child she would excel with English and eschew learning Mandarin); there’s the Mancunian slang of Peh’s frenemy Sophie; Yum Yum (actually, Yun Yun but no one calls her that!) whose manipulation of how everyone sees her becomes he key to success; there’s Scott the sad guy from the USA who is so obviously looking for an Asian stereotype for a girlfriend.   The production is simply presented with a selection of fold out stools that represent everything from a stage to a couture handbag.   The displacement that Jeanette experiences mirrors that of Singapore in the international arena. Jeanette finds herself resisting both the residual colonial ideas of orientalism and her cynical mainland Chinese Yum Yum’s outlook that “Chinese people should help Chinese people.” Yet, when there is a casting opportunity for a television series by a director looking for a bilingual East Asian actress, Jeanette is not beyond asking Yum Yum to coach her in Mandarin,or play up to certain stereotypes. And the experience in the casting session brings the show to its climatic moment. A terrific hour of funny and insightful writing, detailed performance with a perspective that resonates – especially as one from the Southern Hemisphere. A great privilege to see work from Singapore. Kate Gaul

Playfight Roundhouse     Multi Fringe First-winning team Julia Grogan (late year at Edinburgh Fringe “Gunter” made a strong impression), Theatre Uncut and Grace Dickson Productions present coming-of-age play “Playfight” making its debut at the fringe. And Grogan’s debut as a solo playwright.  It explores adolescent desire in a landscape of rising sexual violence. It charts the progress of three teenage girls from the age of 15 to 24 as they work out their futures in a small town where there’s not much to do and life seems to be happening somewhere else. Sounds like familiar coming-of-age territory. It is played in the round under an ancient tree represented here by a pink ladder atop a pile of woodchips from which various small props are pulled. I think the metaphor here is aspiration – to climb out of their situations as their roots grow deeper or as they become more stuck. The play begins with a dead squirrel falling from the tree – an omen of some kind or an object of curiosity?  Sex and death are linked in “Playfight” There’s Keira – who has had sex for the first time with an older boy and it’s all captured on her ‘phone and doing the rounds.  I liked Keira – she is bolshie, brash and you hope to God she will get out of this town but fear of course that she won’t. None of the characters fear talking about sex and playwright Grogan gets into some nitty grittys to the delight of the target audience.  Zainab is the brainy academic girl and Lucy is a Christian.  But these are not easy stereotypes.  The status keeps shifting across the drama as secrets, desires and failures are revealed. Zainab’s journey is one of vulnerability and sadness while Lucy sheds her naivety for something much darker and she eventually become the centre of the play. The script crackles with authentic dialogue and I imagine lots of young actors relishing this piece. Zainab is wrestling with her sexuality and Keira finds herself falling into a form of online prostitution. Lucy finds herself trapped in an increasingly abusive relationship and the circumstances of this gradually emerge. Tragedy inevitably strikes and we are left to consider the iniquities of a system which will seemingly tolerate the so-called “rough sex defence” plea. There is quite a bit that happens over the hour of this play. Terrific performances keep audiences enthralled and “Playfight” is worth seeing for the performances alone.  More critical playgoers may feel that the ultimate death and violence that led to it is all rather opaque.  As a first full length play it’s a cracker.     Kate Gaul

Deluge Summerhall   Gabriela Flarys is a London-based Brazilian actress, dancer, teacher and writer, investigating the poetical and humorous interplay between movement and   text through the body.    Her production, “Deluge”( directed by Andrea Maciel)   explores the experience of loss, based on interviews with people that have struggled to come to terms with the unexpected appearance of the end of things. After having done over 40 interviews from a social media callout the show emerged. Asking questions about how we deal with loss and who we are in the wake of loss, it’s set in a leaky house; as a woman tries to contain the overflow of her thoughts in the wake of her relationship ending, the leaks grow bigger and the water around her rises. Described as “A ‘dramedy’ which fuses theatre and comedy with physicality, text, clowning, original music and projection, this one-woman show reflects on grief, loss and letting go to fully embrace the future.” It’s a promising argument that does not develop. What drives the central narrative is a relationship break down and sudden dumping and the overwhelming deluge of thoughts that then flood the house a woman had shared with her partner. She is left alone. There are remnants of the man everywhere in the physical space, as well as within her body. It is irritating that the entire show focuses on the effect of the man who has abandoned his partner. It’s a flimsy hook that quickly goes no-where and strangely all we ever hear about is this absent man. Dressed in white pants and what looks like part of a sports chest protector (possibly for fencing?) all stained in what we learn is red jam.  The boyfriend is a jam maker. Flarys is at her best when expressing ideas through movement – the piece wants to touch on ideas for which we find language difficult.  She is an elegant and powerful mover.  She slides down a stepladder that entraps her several times or carries it on her back. I think the ladder is the embodiment of loss. The piece is interspersed with songs or snippets of songs played on an on-stage keyboard – not great.  I could buy that they might be character driven but the music is poor and the singing off key. There is also a video element some text, pictures of walls leaking sticky jam like a mould or fungus, rising water. It is interesting to meditate on how we never really know whether we are living at the end of the beginning of the beginning of the end until an end hits us, but this piece doesn’t land philosophically or emotionally, and the bland story has me asking “who cares”. Review by Kate Gaul

Divine Invention Summerhall   This was a tricky one and I’ll say upfront it was not for me. The press release tells us that “Acclaimed Franco-Uruguayan auto-fictional playwright Sergio Blanco returns to Edinburgh after his International Festival hit show “When you walk over my grave” to direct “Divine Invention”, his life-affirming new show about love, translated from Spanish and performed by his long-time collaborator, multi-award-winning director, Daniel Goldman.   Part metatheatrical performance lecture, part auto-fictional gay memoir, “Divine Invention” is a life-affirming exploration of love   that interweaves Sergio's first experiences of love as a teenager with his boxing instructor and the story of Francis Bacon's doomed romance with George Dyer with a free-wheeling journey through the history of love   in art, literature, music and science.    Across a prologue, 30 short scenes and epilogue, Sergio talks of his writing process and Superman, of musical labyrinths and Egyptian love poetry, of Tibetan meditation and Shakespeare, as he presents a radical vision of love as the technology that might save us from ourselves.”   A man sits behind a desk.  On the desk are various items – a microscope (never used during the show), a pile of books (likewise), headphones, a human bone, a sports bandage, a computer, a notebook and a postcard of a Francis Bacon painting. He tells us there will be 30 chapters and then proceeds to read them, announcing the number before each part.  This is always deadly because as an audience member I being to count.  He does not move from the table.  His gestures are repetitive, and I don’t believe this is intentional – it is just an example of the lack of awareness across the project. Variation is essential. The delivery is pompous, and it matches the writing. Thickly laced with the white male genius references.  Madam Bovary gets a mention but it’s in relation to her death. He links first experiences of love (and sex) as a teenager with his boxing instructor and the story of Francis Bacon's tragic relationship with George Dyer. We have the history of love in art, literature, music and science and from a childhood devotion to Superman, to Egyptian love poetry and from Tibetan meditation and Shakespeare. There’s the Beatles and Satie – both played for us as part of the staging.   I appreciate the simplicity of the presentation, and I love a performance-lecture.  I enjoyed the potential connections between the human bone on the desk and the bandaged hand (as in boxing).  As an attempt to say something profound about love it left me cold. Review by Kate Gaul

Chicken Summerhall   Irish theatre company Sunday’s Child presents Hildegard Ryan’s and Eva O’Connor’s “Chicken” in the intimate Women’s Locker Room.  Sunday’s Child is a new writing theatre company founded in 2010. We sit in the round and a woman (Eva O’Connor) enters wearing an eleborate chicken costume and red face paint.  This is a character called Don Murphy, a stoic rooster who has been raised as a strong Irish lad. He is nearly crushed under foot as an egg. Rescued by and Irish couple from a chicken farm he grows ups in Kerry but dreams of the big city and stardom. And so, begins the troubled tale of a chicken trying to make it in the film industry of New York City. Fame doesn’t come easy to Don and soon the allure of drugs leads him on the path of addiction.  With lights and sound accompanying the performance, Don takes his first line of ketamine and the rush of his first high before he begins to unravel. Don meets and falls for a beautiful starlit silkie from Dallas whose activist friends are taking a stand against the appalling conditions in the meat industry. But it isn’t until Don is invited home to Kerry for his role in “Chicken Run” that he begins to understand the true monstrosities that occur to animals and in particular – chickens! This is where Don can find and fill the higher purpose he has always sought. In the small room where “Chicken” plays for Edinburgh Fringe – and with a full house and no air con – the temperature rises ferociously.  The chicken makeup is running down the face to the performer and their sheer resilience to carry on surreally mirrors that of Don the chicken they play. The work has been directed to have the actor circle the stage for the entire hour.  There’s the repetitive pecking and chicken-like head movements, wing flaps and bent chicken legs are cute. I believe this is derived from bouffon clowning techniques. This is a dramatic and comedic monologue cast in and absurd vein. To the credit of the team – by the end of the hour the audience are totally empathising with Don: they are a real chicken – ah, the power of suspension of disbelief! That the play also finds inventive ways to critique the meat industry and exploitation of animals and humans is ambitious.  The jokes didn’t always land for me, and I found some of the accents employed between characters presented tricky to understand.  A combination of heat and the even tempo of playing had me struggling to stick with it.  But it’s been a hit at the fringe and is now sold out. Review by Kate Gaul

Will Pickvance: Wonky Summerhall Will Pickvance – pianist, storyteller, entertainer – presents “Wonky” combining playful performance and engaging storytelling in this Edinburgh Fringe show.  After seeing First Piano on the Moon  last year (and loving it), “Wonky” was high on my list of must see shows.   Put Will Pickvance in front of a piano and watch the extemporised fireworks explode. There’s no genre he won’t cross into or attempt to fuse with any other in a free-flowing equivalent to a musical waterfall. And “Wonky” is no exception.  Not a show for families especially (although I think young audience members couldn’t help but be charmed by Will) ‘Wonky” is an antidote to the hustle and bustle of the Edinburgh fringe streets.  A place and time to retreat, briefly, and be transported through the creative meanderings of a very talented man. We enter the darkened theatre – on an empty stage sits an upright piano covered with a canvas. A ragged stool sits nearby.  A tall lamp with fringed shade completes the picture.  Pickvance enters and clicks his fingers.  The lights snap black. He clicks his fingers again and the lights come on.  He tells us that on a first date the datees minds are made up very quickly about each other and regardless of those thoughts must enjoy or endure the next hour together.  We are a very small audience, and I wonder what he thinks of us.  He removes the canvas from the piano with a flourish and describes the life of a gigging musician when they first encounter their piano for the night in a new venue. It turns out he knows this piano very well as it is his.  And the lamp is his as is the stool.  All part of the fabric of this event about to unfold. In a lose collection of stories we learn about his childhood and playing the piano with his father. Something that his father had done with his father.  A tradition.  In doing so he deconstructs Goethe/Schubert song “Erlkönig”. “Erlkönig” dramatizes the tale of a father and his son riding home on horseback during a stormy night. The boy hears the cajoling voice of the Elf-King and attempts several times to alert his father that this evil supernatural being is attempting to take him away. As a young boy, his dad stood over the record player commentating in real-time on what it all meant; a father charging on horseback through the woods late at night with his son who is delirious. They’d perform it themselves - Will at the piano trying desperately to keep up with his dad’s theatrical rendition and uneven German. It is dramatic, gripping and alive.  I wondered at this stage whether the show was to be about fathers and sons but it’s a loose thread.  Pickvance does tell a story of visiting his grandfather in what seems like his end days and playing for him while under the influence of the drug ecstasy and his grandfather’s please for him to not let him die in hospital. The family stories are moving for all the reasons family stories are.  But that’s not all…   Pickvance, we learn, worked briefly for an Elvis tribute band, as a resident musician at Skibo Castle in Dornoch, Scotland (it’s where Madonna got married to Guy Richie).  He explains the beauty of “The Blue Danube”. He slams “Moonlight Sonata” through a jazz sieve and smashes “Like a Virgin” with a wedding march. Combining epic musical improvisation and intimate story telling are Will Pickvance’s calling card.  It’s a brilliant hour of time standing still – I hear that one performance he went 20 minutes over time simply because no one told him to stop. I really want to see and hear more around the deeper thread of fathers and sons, of growing up gifted and what it costs to realise your dreams … but for now, “Wonky” is a generous gift for all those who can hear it.  Recommended!   Kate Gaul

Precious Cargo Summerhall   How would you feel if you had grown up in a country in which you had no biological or cultural connections?   The fall of Saigon was the capture of Saigon, the capital of South Vietnam, by North Vietnam and the Viet Cong on 30 April 1975. The event marked the end of the Vietnam War and the collapse of the South Vietnamese state, leading to a transition period and the formal reunification of Vietnam into the Socialist Republic of Vietnam under communist rule on 2 July 1976.   “Operation Babylift” was the name given to the mass evacuation of children from South Vietnam to Australia and other western countries (including USA, France, West Germany, and Canada) at the end of the Vietnam War on April 3–26, 1975. By the final American flight out of South Vietnam, over 3,300 infants and children had been airlifted, although the actual number has been variously reported. Along with “Operation New Life”, over 110,000 refugees were evacuated from South Vietnam at the end of the Vietnam War. Thousands of children were airlifted from Vietnam and adopted by families around the world.   “Precious Cargo” grew out of a chance meeting in autumn 2021. Australian actor Barton Williams, a Vietnam war orphan, was visiting Lewis as one of the cast of “Silent Roar”, a feature film about Hebridean surfers. Both had been raised by white families, growing up as virtually the only Asian child in small, overwhelmingly white communities, with no connection to their Vietnamese language or heritage. Both had later travelled back to Vietnam in the hope of finding their biological families but had returned home with no answers – a common experience for adoptees, so much information having been lost in the chaos of war.   As the audience enter, we are confronted with a stage, strewn with cardboard boxes, the setting for the most extraordinary of human stories. During “Operation Babylift” infants were transported in cardboard boxes and packed onto planes.  Vintage film projected onto the boxes is haunting. Barton Williams performs this one-person documentary play which tells the story of the lives of six Vietnam war adoptees and how they were always connected. Some have discovered biological connections across the globe, many have not.  It’s a challenging story of children born into a world at war and a seering reminder of our need to know where we are from.   Barton tells his story with characteristic Australian larrikinisms; his challenge to become an Aussie nipper; the love he held for his adoptive mother in particular and her unwavering belief in him.  This is a lesser-known Australian story but it is clearly that of literally thousands. It deserves to be heard far and wide and let’s hope it makes its way back to Australia. Kate Gaul

1 in a Chameleon Summerhall A woman in a lurid and extremely well-made chameleon costume stands at the back of the theatre. It includes a full head dress and tail.  She is awkward, unsure and makes an easy connection with the audience as we share our various discomforts.  This is Narie Foster.  Who is she?  A quick google reveals: The systems engineer and former management consultant at Bain & Co. is responsible for product management and operations at M.M. LaFleur, the New York-based e-commerce company outfitting professional women with 4-6 piece 'Bento boxes' of stylish clothes. On stage Narie tells us she is Brooklynite, American, Irish, Canadian, Thai, engineer, entrepreneur, woman, theatre nerd… these are the clubs that Foster is part of, but does she belong in them? This is a piece – neither drama, essay or TED talk – that covers identity, acceptance and (literally, in this chameleon’s case) shedding one’s skin. “1 in a Chameleon” investigates the natural tension between wanting to belong and wanting to be authentically ourselves. The hour is gently comedic, heartfelt and intelligent.  Narie wants to be vulnerable with us, dance with us, laugh and cry with us. Digging into her life story she ponders the concept of belonging and how identity is shaped. It is entirely enthralling. The audience is 100% engaged and when volunteers are called for there is no hesitation from the house. The monologue is released as if thoughts are just occurring to Narie – it has a ramshackle feel that is endearing once we accept that this isn’t our “usual” comedic theatre experience.   Before she resolves the identity crisis, she is confronted with another question: “On a scale of 0 to 10, how free are you intuitively?” Foster recreates moments of her life where she had felt freedom at each value. Her genuine and emotional storytelling compels the audience to root for her that she will one day experience freedom at 10. Narie now advises early-stage startups, teaches and mentors entrepreneurs, and incubates new projects. She considers herself an expert generalist and particularly loves organizing chaos, learning about human behaviour, and solving problems that require both art and science. Outside of the business world, Narie can be found writing, running, turning lunch meetings into philosophical conversations, and helping her scientist parents build an unusual retirement house in the Pacific Northwest. When she cannot be found, it’s because she’s off exploring somewhere new. “1 in a Chameleon” feels like one of her unusual adventures in which she finds willing audiences to reflect to her where she is at. Is it theatre?  I guess we are in a deep phase of personal, intimate story telling in this space. Everyone has a story and “1 in a Chameleon” reminds us that unearthing our hidden stories is valuable.  The final images of Nari embracing her Thai heritage with full costume is both moving and revelatory.  Kate Gaul

My English Persian Kitchen Traverse Theatre “My English Persian Kitchen” is by playwright Hannah Khalil and based on a story by food writer Atoosa Sepehr. The show weaves together the story of a woman fleeing her marriage in Iran to England with the cooking of traditional Ash Reshteh, a Persian noodle soup filled with red onion, garlic, beans, chickpeas and green lentils, and fragrant with fresh herbs: mint, parsley and dill. A large kitchen counter with working hob sits centre stage and to one side a tall white fridge. As we enter the theatre actor Isabella Nefar stands at a kitchen counter, dicing and chopping.  Once the house lights go down, she explains that women in Iran pursue education and career and that they often don’t cook, or tell people they don’t, to avoid becoming overwhelmed with domestic tasks. It’s fascinating to watch someone actually wield a knife, mash garlic and measure ingredients all while performing for an audience.  And of course, the fragrances of these fresh and wonderful foods fill the auditorium. This is the present. Without warning the scenario flicks to the past and the kitchen bench and fridge is transformed in an airport, a taxi, a bedroom.  The fridge becomes a doorway, projection surface, a sanctuary or prison. Supported by a brilliant sound design (Dan Balfour) and unsettling lighting (Marty Langthorne) we are immediately transported. In December 2007, Atoosa Sepehr arrived in the UK from Iran, knowing no one, her life ahead a blank sheet. She was 30 years old, fleeing a disastrous marriage and her escape was an overnight flit. She’d packed in under an hour, was driven to Tehran at speed by her mother, bought a ticket in cash and raced through departures. In Iran, divorce wasn’t easy without a husband’s agreement, which Sepehr knew her husband would never give. He also holds the power to ban his wife from leaving the country. What has happened to our protagonist is never made explicit, but we have enough information to know that her delicate strategy for escape was indeed touch and go.  Arriving in the UK she confronts the polite and distant coldness of her neighbours as she begins her life again.  It is though the power of communal invitation to a meal that she makes change. In this story of survival, we cannot help but be moved by the challenges of hearing of a young woman doing it alone. The cooking of the meal onstage – which must proceed logically and methodically – is in contrast to the chaotic and non-linear imaginative story telling. Isabella Nefar’s restraint is a pleasure to share. The production does feel as if it meanders at times but the central idea of food, community and creating a home is powerful.  As we are brought together as community in the theatre there is no better way of concluding the production than with the shared meal.  Audiences are invited to gather around the kitchen bench to sample the Ash Reshteh and in the foyer, there is another batch to share.  It really is delicious.  Kate Gaul

BAMBILAND Zoo Southside “Bambiland” is a play by Austrian playwright and novelist Elfriede Jelinek, winner of the 2004 Nobel Prize in Literature. She was awarded for for her "musical flow of voices and counter-voices in novels and plays that with extraordinary linguistic zeal reveal the absurdity of society's clichés and their subjugating power."  At that time, “Bambiland” caused a sensation because of its protest against the Guantanamo Bay prison.  Typical Jelinek’s style, there are numerous acts of violence, both physical and sexual. It’s the kind of play that is rarely seen in performance (and never in Australia).  The text is a bold exploration of the war of words and images that shape our perception of global conflicts. It is intellectually astute and at the pointy end of theatre nerds and academics. It is quite something to see it on stage today. It is a must-see for those interested in contemporary theatre, and those keen to connect with haunting resonances of contemporary history. “Bambiland" confronts disturbing realities of war and media today. This enthralling production at Zoo Southside is best described an experience rather than “another night at the theatre”. It’s not easy. We are told “Elfriede Jelinek’s text dismantles the global media war machine as accounts of Iraq's invasion collapse into a child refugees’ memories of the Bosnian War.” This Edinburgh Fringe production is the UK premiere of “Bambiland”, an adaptation of translated by Lilian M. Banks. This solo performance, performed by Jelena Bašić, and directed by Peter Lorenz.  It is a harrowing examination of modern warfare and media representation which interweaves stark accounts of the Iraq war with Bašić's personal memories and experiences as a child refugee during the Bosnian war. As the lines between reality and illusion blur, the question arises if the possibility of peace is even still thinkable.  Jelena Bašić uses everyday objects to tell her story – tin cans, photographs, hand torch, plastic bags and a pile of toy soldiers.  Live video projects what is created by miniatures on the floor. The violent acts of representations are played back on video, and we find ourselves immersed in this battle of toy soldiers. There are incredible images created that last long after the show has ended. Now based in Edinburgh, Jelena Bašić is a regular performer with Mischief LaBas and Surge as well as running her own theatre workshops for refugees and directing “Don Quixotte Rides Again” which plays at the Scottish Storytelling Centre as part of the Edinburgh Festival Fringe.    Thought-provoking tensions between what is true and what is real on-stage leaves audiences reflecting on the violent act of representation and the cyclical nature of war owing much to the ancient Greek theatre. As Middle Eastern deserts and the siege of Sarajevo bleed into each other on stage, the distinction between “us” and “them” dissolves, presenting a powerful commentary on ongoing conflicts and the very words we have available to describe them.   In a nutshell: harrowing, intruiging, dense and performed with great charm by Jelena Bašić. Kate Gaul

It’s always a treat to see Australian artists in Edinburgh – especially when the work is of the calibre of Leah Shelton’s “Batshit”.   Leah Shelton – doyenne of the Australian theatre. From her website – “Psycho-siren Leah Shelton creates stylized, guttural, renegade feminist work soaked in cult references and dark humour. Her work has taken her from the glamour of Las Vegas to the back streets of Kings Cross, from rigorous training in Japan to live art festivals in New York.” And directed than none other than the undeniable Ursula Martinez –“Ursula Martinez fuses theatrical concepts, personal experience and popular forms to create innovative challenging, experimental theatre that is highly entertaining and reflective of our contemporary, post-modern world. At the core of the work is a commitment to exploring humour and what it is to be human.” Theatrical royalty at the Traverse Theatre.  Heaven! “Batshit” is inspired by Leah’s grandmother’s experiences of mental illness and forced medical treatment in the 1960s. It is a kind of love letter to Gwen (her grandmother) and to all women who are (mis)diagnosed with mental illness, hysteria and/or called crazy whatever the era. From ordinary housewives to world leaders, women are subject to patriarchal pathologisation, dismissed or silenced.  "Women are often framed as hysterical, irrational, mentally ill in a court of law as a way of undermining their credibility or they are seen to be imagining symptoms in a medical system. They're also twice as likely to be diagnosed with depression, anxiety, panic disorder, phobias, suicidal ideation, suicide attempts, eating disorders and PTSD, and seven times more likely to be diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, so it’s fair to say it’s a long-standing systemic problem." (Leah Shelton interview for Melbourne Fringe) “Batshit” not just female empowerment on stage this is a battle cry for change! The feel of the show is somewhere between cabaret, performance art and solo drama.  It begins in a Lynchian nightmare of seductive image, unsettling lighting, lip synched classics.  Leah Shelton moves like a dream.  The rigorous control she has over her body and other performance elements are echoed through the intelligent direction – there’s A LOT going on here, but it’s delivered with a light touch. All text is projected, and the content includes detailed medical records, song lyrics, last century and contemporary vox pops coming to us through an ancient TV, live video. Recordings of Shelton’s mother talking about Gwen are particularly moving.  Shelton begins dressed in gorgeous green cocktail mid-century cocktail frock and bits of straight jacket-like wraps; there’s a nurse uniform; a petticoat and finally as herself – vulnerable, powerful, dangerous! Oftentimes personal stories become confessional and ultimately a bit dreary.  But not “Batshit” – its distilling important issues. The canvas is large, but the story has an intimacy to it.  It is also immediate. In the modern day vox-pops both women and men are asked to describe who is crazy: Britany Spears comes up a lot. Don’t be loud, opinionated, brilliant or what to change the world.  Don’t demand things for yourself. Keep quiet.  Keep still. Are you crazy? Told with humour, honour, mountains of skill and imagination ‘Batshit” is also a bit of a tearjerker. And the notion of “taking and axe” to a problem will never be the same again. Beyond fabulous and earned a standing ovation! Kate Gaul (Image Supplied)

Singer-actor-raconteur Salty Brine in “Contents of my Head (The Annie Lennox Show)” melds a magic melange of personal influences that weave a captivating performance. There’s Annie Lennox – specifically, her 1992 solo album “Diva”; Edna, the protagonist of Kate Chopin’s feminist novel “The Awakening”; Judy Garland; the performer’s mother; and Salty Brine himself. This is cabaret but not as we know it. High camp, drama, confession and wit, you just GOT TO SEE THIS SHOW. Beyond fabulous vocals and a kick arse MD (Ben Langhorst) combine for a non-stop 90 minutes that fly by!  There is a young band of musicians – drums, bass, brass and woodwind; there are striking costumes and at the centre a gorgeous performance. Value for your GBP! Salty Brine makes shows built around a classic pop album in each edition of his “Living Record Collection” cabaret series which weaves songs into perceptive tapestries of storytelling. He’s covered Cyndi Lauper, Radiohead and the Beatles in the past. Playing Assembly Checkpoint. An unexpected pleasure to start the Edinburgh Fringe Festival viewing odyssey! Created and performed by Salty Brine Directed by Shaun Peknic Arrangements and Music Direction by Ben Langhorst Production Design by Christopher BowserCostume Design by Kate Fry   Kate Gaul