Top Six Women on the Blog, for IWD16

It's International Women's Day, and I am celebrating with Man Flu.

Seriously, it's like a tissue testing factory in here. However, I'll use this opportunity to make a list of female artists who have appeared on the Vile Blog, something that I have been meaning to do for a while. 

Feminist Theatre in Glasgow
In the tradition of my blog, here's a brief survey of feminist theatre within Glasgow, and a picture of two of my biggest at crushes. It's tentative and has the usual Vile uncertainty, but mentions some good stuff.

Fringe 2013
For some reason, I did a list of female performers at the Fringe in 2013. This is an excerpt, starring women who do comedy, Vile self-doubt and Claire Cunningham. 

Physical Theatre
This one needs to be edited properly, but is about a show called Pussy. I remember walking past the company as they offered a flyer to Joyce MacMillan. 

Speak Truth to Power
After Pussy, it had to be Fanny. This is me chatting about a spoken word piece (and more), pondering feminism, that kind of thing. 

Laura Ingram Again
A success from the most recent Fringe, and always worth another 
read.

Sex and God
Linda McLean is another one of my art crushes, even if she mocks my Man Flu on twitter.

I'll try to do another six later on today, when I stop coughing.

A Bit of A Diversion from Ben Walters (2)

It seems unfair on Ben Walters to use his intelligent provocation on 'class war' in cabaret to address concerns about the direction and development of British burlesque - he is clearly more concerned with examining an internal conflict within cabaret, and pointing out a possible resolution. However, when he replies to some short-sighted critiques of burlesque by asserting that there are 'legitimate political and aesthetic critiques to be levelled at certain aspects of burlesque, as there are critiques to be levelled at certain aspects of drag or circus or any other form of performance,' he is missing a crucial point. Burlesque has a particular history, and a particular set of concerns, some of which are not shared by circus or any other form of performance. 

The really big argument around burlesque is whether it is a post-modern form of feminism or a return to the golden age of exploitation and objectification of women. Individual circus shows might be accused of sexism. but there is no play in the idea that circus acrobatics are fundamentally sexist. Burlesque deals with the erotic, in the way that drag deals with gender identity. Simply making different art forms share similar values is avoiding the issue. 

Walters isn't worried about this issue within the remit of his speech, and that's fine. However, it's worth examining a few burlesque shows to see whether there is any basis for the criticisms that Walters dismisses.

The main complaint seems to be that the burlesque routine is purely about striptease: Armstrong refers to 'old strippers,' and the unnamed cabaret show has a song that mocks the burlesque as being fodder for sexual fantasy and nothing more. Two shows in this year's Fringe - In Flagrante and Ballesque made an effort to advertise themselves as being about more than mere titillation. In Flagrante claimed to be subverted ideas about women in uniform, and Ballesque made much of its cast's dance training (they conform perfectly to Walters' idea of artists who come from 'above' cabaret).

 photo - Kaveh Kardan

In Flagrante has the most to defend in this regard: the various routines involved a fair amount of BDSM paraphernalia, and most of the dancers spent most of the time with their breast on display. Having a poster that featured a massive bum - an icon shared with Chas Royal's Best of Burlesque - did little to suggest that their Fringe blurb, which promised subversion and feminism, was anything more than a gloss on what Broadway Baby called 'the sexiest show on the Fringe.'

Ballesque, ironically, had far more depth than its posters suggested: instead of a non-stop erotic cabaret as promised, it had a plot and characterisations and everything. There was little nudity: the topless scenes were limited to a cheeky parody of Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake (and so it was guys, not gals baring breasts), and the most explicitly erotic routine was in the style of Bob Fosse. Aside from the setting - a nightclub that was the afterlife - and the format (each scene had the shape of an act) - there was little here that connected to burlesque. 

What both of these shows did share was a limited interest in pushing the boundaries of choreography. Whether the In Flagrante troupe were posing as pony-girls, or the Ballesque girls (and they were young) were doing their Fosse number, there was no sense of originality or pushing the dancers. Like the burlesque acts in Royal's Best of Burlesque, the routines were predictable and familiar. In Flagrante  may have claimed contemporary dance as an influence, and Ballesque had a cast of trained dancers, but neither show had the hallmark of the experimental or challenging physicality.

They also lacked depth: and this is where In Flagrante  entered into dangerous territory. Having claimed to be subverting stereotypes, the obviousness of the routines is all the more disappointing. One number mocked 1950s' housewife stereotypes by sexing them up: another parodied the  'food pornography' of modern cookery programmes. Yet neither went beyond the simple concept, and could be consumed as simple erotica. It's not accurate to call it sexist - an analysis of the creative process would be necessary for that. But it falls short of 'subversion' and certainly does not represent a feminist burlesque.

Ballesque did rather a little better due to its surface glamour. Some fairly weak performances - the male lead did not convince as a lusty heterosexual chasing the female lead, although their tango was passionate to the same measure that their dialogues were limp - prevented the production from grappling with the implications of the plot. Calling one character Sadisto and packing the stage with stereotypes suggests that the plot was an excuse for the routines. 

However, in both cases, the use of burlesque tropes (corsets, tassels, vintage fashion, comedy combined

with nudity) was mirrored by the presence of exactly those problems that burlesque has come to attract. Limited choreographic imagination; titillation over the use of eroticism to provoke questions (a half-naked traffic cop is not a smart satire, it's a fantasy routine); the costume being more important than the idea and the slight humour, or pay-off, excusing a routine that lacks structure or cohesion. 

Stripped of its pretensions, In Flagrante is a solid erotic show in the tradition of the French nightclubs like The Crazy Horse. Ballesque  is a not too bad production by young performers. But neither can make any claim to being ground-breaking, unless the very idea of erotic entertainment lasting more than two minutes is subversive. 

In both cases, and this also applies to The Best of Burlesque, the erotic elements become uncomfortable because they point to nothing more than themselves. Going back to the nastily phrased accusations of Walters' anecdotal performers, this is the problem: much burlesque is preoccupied with the sexual, but not in transforming it into aesthetic quality.

This is not the same problem as circus - and it is not the same problem as Live Art (which has a much bigger issue with self-indulgence). And it is unfair to label one art form as 'worse' because it deals with a particular area.

Of course, The Wau Wau Sisters were at The Fringe this year, with their 'sequel' to The Last Supper. While it might lack the scatter-shot ferocity of The Last Supper, Naked As The Day... retains that particular energy and attitude that defines what feminist burlesque would look like. 

A Response to Ben Walters (1)

Over at Time Out - London's free arts and listings magazine, which educated me in the ways of performance and clubbing during my teenage years, Ben Walters has posted a transcript of his talk given at Edinburgh's Fringe Central on August 21, 2013. It's intriguing stuff: the deliberately provocative title (Is Cabaret Heading for a Class War), the obvious insider knowledge he displays and the generous attitude towards an art form that is often marginalised combine to make it a bold step forward, both for thinking about cabaret and the role of the critic.

Looking over Walters' reviews of the 2013 Edinburgh Fringe, it's pretty clear that he has adopted a position: he is a defender of cabaret, burlesque and neo-vaudeville (or whatever name the revival is calling itself in what must be its second decade). He has a detailed knowledge of the acts, and his star ratings are consistent. It's easy to understand why, in the context of his other reviews, he gave Dusty Limits five stars and Titty Bar Ha Ha one. Alongside his sensitivity to the audience response, this makes Walters one of the most useful critics in the UK - that he is working in cabaret ought to be a matter of pride to the genre.

Walters deals with several issues that are crucial within cabaret. First of all, he argues for its importance as an art form. This is not a given ('I've defended grass-roots cabaret against misconceived criticism that it is cheap and vulgar,' he notes). He surveys the influx of performers from a more 'conventional cultural establishment' (that is, artists coming in from outside the traditional cabaret community). He also addresses the common assumption that cabaret is dogged by vast amounts of 'bad burlesque.'

The strength of Walters' article is that he is both generous and honest in his assessment of cabaret's current state. While he acknowledges his subjectivity - 'You’ll notice a London bias to my observations, I'm afraid,' he confesses, he clarifies his terms of reference before drawing a broad optimistic conclusion. It's exciting stuff, showing how a critic can bring far more to the arts than a series of short reviews and providing star ratings to cover posters. 

He begins with a few anecdotal observations, coming from artists who are entering the cabaret scene from a different background. Walters names this background as 'above, if you’ll pardon the somewhat loaded term.' That is, artists 'enjoying a level of mainstream celebrity, or having connections to widely respected institutions and the financial support and professional credibility that can come with that... recent drama graduates, ballet performers, trained opera singers and so on.' They reveal an attitude that he sees as popular - and wrong. 

What started me thinking in these terms was actually a couple of comments ... from classically trained performers. One of them said she wanted “to make a difference of asserting cabaret as a good art form …not nipple tassels, bad burlesque.


There’s another début show by performers from ‘above’... which opens with a song that invites burlesque performers to 'see yourself for what you are – you’re just a pretty piece of meat parading round in your bra. Yes yes, you shake those tassels, yes yes, go on – yawn. Well done you, up on stage, giving desperos the horn.'

Former sketch comedian, now quiz show host 

And this in turn reminded me of the comments Alexander Armstrong, the TV comedian. 'I'm convinced that cabaret is set to return,' Armstrong told the Evening Standard. “People said it about burlesque and they weren't wrong. A whole load of old strippers bought themselves pompoms and souped up their sets and are calling themselves burlesque.' [Armstrong later apologised for the comments.]

If anything, Walters is too moderate in his response to these comments: these kinds of attack on burlesque are often couched in terms that are possibly sexist - the assumption that any display of female sexuality is necessarily pornographic - while Armstrong's recent comedy output gives him little foundation to be nasty about anyone relying on old glories. His suggestion that cabaret is about to return suggests he hasn't spent the last decade noticing anything outside of his limited TV world (a hypothesis that can be supported by a look at the diminishing returns of his sketch shows). 

Walters does admit that there are problems with some burlesque - he says they are the same problems faced by other art forms, like circus - and makes a lively defence of the medium. He points out that it created the audience that now enjoy cabaret. His final enjoinder ('they’re patronising attacks that are rooted in ignorance, intended to belittle, and suggestive of hypocrisy and insecurity) is spot on. What he doesn't do is consider why burlesque has this reputation, or whether the words of a hypocrite can contain a measure of truth...

An excuse for the repeats

The sudden appearance of old articles on this blog isn't just a sardonic response to the number of performances that seem to come around again and again during the Fringe. It is also an expression of my laziness, and coasting on work that I completed years ago.

It is also interesting to look back on my predictions. I am gearing up to write a piece about cabaret again, reflecting on how it has changed - or not - in the last three years. This has been prompted by Ben Walters' comments on how cabaret might cope as it goes mainstream. My first feeling on reading his provocation was that he had made it three years too late: the high water mark of the cabaret revival was just before it received its own section in the Fringe brochure.

Then I remembered, Walters works in London, and I probably ought to shut my mouth and check out what is happening down there before I make fatuous comments.

My last week of the Fringe was supposed to be all about checking out cabaret acts (and youth theatre, but that's the other article I need to write). Perhaps some anti-burlesque protester attacked my knee as I slept - I didn't get around to seeing as much as I would have liked. But a post-match survey of the Fringe brochure, and a great many of the names that I mentioned in 2011 are still doing shows, at about the same scale. A few names had a year off (Des O'Connor is very low profile these days, given that he was doing three shows a day a few years back). But I don't get the impression that a great deal has changed since I was an enthusiast for cabaret.

Anyway - here's to the joy of being a critic: if my article is ill-informed, we'll call it a provocation.

From the past: Scottee at the Fringe

Look, the Fringe was full of repeats this year: Beats came back  - albeit with a new master on the wheels of steel, as DJ Hushpuppy took over from DJ Whoop - and The Trench lost out on a review when I checked the archives. The Tron took Ulysses east, the NTS restaged Claire Cunningham's Ménage. 

So I am reprinting a few of my old pieces. This one is to get everyone in the mood for Glasgay! It is about Scottee... formerly published in The Skinny.

Would you like a side order of Live Art with your vaudeville?

FEATURE BY GARETH K VILE.

PUBLISHED 15 AUGUST 2010

Like cabaret's wilful younger sister, Eat Your Heart out is determined to reject the trappings of the neo-burlesque revival - or whatever we are calling that this week. Host Scottee kicks off by mocking Edinburgh's apparent ukulele obsession, rotating through a series of increasingly absurd and glamorous costume changes. Veering from acerbic stand up to taut contemporary dance, Eat is late night feast of off-kilter vaudeville.

The adverts may claim no burlesque, but the show has the awkwardly hewn satirical edge of the best burlesque. Scottee is an amiable host, seeming to know his audience by name, offering prizes and wandering on and off stage at will. Co-host Myra Dubois is a little stereotypical, rocking the aging northern drag queen look and condemning racism in a rather too worthy monologue. The token striptease is superb: Queen Elizabeth strips down to a modern football hooligan in a routine that remembers burlesque is actually about making a funny point.

The atmosphere is uneven, and Scottee's shout outs to Live Art are not misplaced. When a man eats an onion and leaps into the audience, or Dubois manages an incoherent and improvised sing-along, the slip into incoherence is reminiscent of performance artists trying their hand at vaudeville. There's also a slightly hectoring tone - Miss Annabel Sings forces the crowd on stage. It's a change from pandering, even if it can be uncomfortable.

This is, at least, a real alternative cabaret. Never quite going full tilt at the politics, moments of brilliance - Masumi Tipsy is astonishing, and Helen Noir's introverted opera is elegant and disturbing -alternate with shambolic self-indulgence, Eat Your Heart Out is a guilty, mixed pleasure for anyone who finds the cabaret scene too polished and respectable.

If you have been missing me...

Argghh.

If I can just move this...

Hang on, sitting down might be better... no, that doesn't help.

It is the time of year... let me just adjust my leg... when every email I receive begins with a cheerful... I am going to stretch it out, see if that helps... with a cheerful 'hope you are recovered from the fringe.'

I am not. The image for this page is both a shout out to an artist who is doing an event with Screen Bandita this month and a clue as to why... I don't think I ought to have walked into the office today...

I have so much to say on matters relating to the Fringe: the sharp pains shooting up my right arm are encouraging an especially bitter perspective. In brief, I was disappointed. I saw plenty of interesting work, but very little that deserved extravagant praise. Certain venues seemed to be presenting an idea of themselves - all very curated and considered - without remembering that they were part of a performance festival, not a university lecture programme.

I won't name names until the injury has healed. Sometimes, perspective is important.

I am sorry that nothing came close to Red Bastard, especially since he was in the comedy section. But I could only accept his lack of awards at the end of the Fringe because one of the Wau Wau sisters won something.

I did enjoy the play about swearing.

I think I might be doing a bit of that... I thought that freezing the leg was the right thing to do?

Drumming Up The Past (Giants in the Forest 5.3)

Drum Castle is the first home of the Giants in which I spend as much time wandering around the location as I do communing with the Grand Heads. It might be the effort of the cycle (only an hour, but I have learnt something about my levels of fitness), or the attraction of being in a place that looks like it has seen a fair slice of history.

It's more likely that I am charmed by the discovery of a secret room. The romance of a hidden chamber gets my sentimental view of the past, and the possibility that it has its own guarderobe appeals to my grubby sense of humour. 

I am greeted by Laura Paterson, my contact and a senior assistant for the National Trust. We have a lovely cup of tea in the old kitchen (The National Trust are good at hospitality, as I noticed when my mother insisted no summer holiday was complete with a visit to a stately home), and Laura talked with enthusiasm about the impact of the Giants. The full interview will be online soon - including my typical radio voice and shout outs to The Vile Arts - but the impression is that Drum Castle is a centre for all sorts of intriguing projects.

The Giants have been evolving thanks to the ministrations of local groups - not just children - and when Laura guides me along the path to the Might Three, the evidence surrounds us. An artist has been weaving - the wonderful recursive shape that makes up shells and spiral galaxies is very much in evidence - and there are a selection of wood and wool works that are part obscure ritual objects and part playtime fun with craft.

The most striking feature is that these Giants are not in a circle, or a glade, but on a lineal path and are ripe for being the final point of a procession. Laura confides in me some of the details for the Dark Wood event, and I won't spoil them - except to say they piqued my anticipation for an awesome event.

And when I say awesome, I am not being gnarly, dude. Drum Castle is opening me up to the old school idea of awe. The sense of scale hinted at by the Giants is matched by the beauty of the location, and the history contained in the house. I am starting to understand why I am on this trail, and what the Giants might be hinting at, what stories they bring and how their locations embody a certain mystery...

Frankly, the NTS website can do a better job of explaining the castle's history than I can. I shall admit that the possibility of hiring it for a wedding did make me wonder whether my unmarried state was fortuitous, as now I know where I want my marriage to happen, and I might have come across rather childishly to the helpful museum guide when I started banging on about the iconography of Greek Gods on a reproduction of a porcelain tray (it's a blue willow style copy of a tray cast in metal by a Roman emperor)...

I was quietly reverential when I read about the history of the family who had once owned the estate, before bequeathing it to the trust. For all my egalitarianism and wild eyed anarchism, I am fascinated by the apth of the aristocratic families, who have been involved in wars and great events and all added to the history of the country.

Still seeking, still excited, I unlock my bike and ease on down the road back towards Aberdeen.

Are You Calling Me Soft?

Over at The Guardian, Lyn Gardner has got a new idea. I would say something about how it seems to take a

trip to Scotland for English critics to get new material, but since I copy most of my Big Concepts from them, I can't. I might even add a general disparaging remark about The Guardian's liberalism - although I'll have to see whether that fits in with my theme.

The original post that had me fuming was a suggestion that Scottish critics were 'soft' on Scottish work. Apart from revealing her lack of knowledge of Glasgow vernacular (on the West Coast, calling someone soft translates as 'I would like to engage you in a duel of fisticuffs to protect my impugned honour'), her conclusions are rightly corrected by various responses on the site. The slightly patronising tone suggests that it is 'nice' for the locals to have critics who understand their work - no doubt performed in a dialect, and about issues that only matter north of the border, like poverty and social exclusion.

Knowing most of the critics that Gardner alludes to, I doubt 'soft' is quite the right word for them. As a group, Scottish critics are pugnacious, and have distinctive tastes to the point that finding any other adjective that fits all of them is difficult. Admittedly, the size of Scotland's theatre community ensures that every critic's profile is well known, which has the advantage of allowing the artists and audience to put a review in  a wider context. But the Scottish critics have demonstrated, in their reviews of the EIF's Leaving Planet Earth, that they rarely speak with a single voice.

I actually take offence at the idea of 'Scottish critics': nothing links us except our nationality, which, like gender or race or religion, doesn't shed much light on the individual's identity. I'm reading Nick Cohen again, and somewhere in his arguments against liberalism, he points out that the kind of thinking that groups people by national identity is either patronising or racist. I might not go that far - not least because Cohen's latest book is all about how the libel laws in  the UK are easily marshalled. But I don't think that grouping critics is helpful.

This also plugs into the debate about star rating...

Unfortunately, I can't discuss that because I died of boredom typing the words.

Anyway, all these things fail to recognise that criticism is subjective. It's part of a dialogue... while I usually like a bit of banter on this, I am going to move on: the job of the critic is to talk about theatre, not get too self-referential about their process.

Insert appropriate ironic exclamation at the audacity of that statement on this blog...

TS DRAMA THEATRE COMPANY PRESENTS ‘JOURNEY TO X’

Regular followers of my blog (that is to say, hello mum and yes, I am still alive) may be aware that I often wax sentimental about the West Country. Those who are aware of my work as a teacher will know that I can bore for the United Kingdom about the problems of assessing theatre made by young people.

The TS Drama Theatre Company allow me to do both. Next week, they return to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival for the third year running with Journey to X. Not only are they are a sixth form group of drama students (young people's theatre is my enthusiasm, after his Majesty RB and my time at the NFYT in Falkland), they come from Taunton. Taunton is one of my favourite towns in the world, up there with parts of Arran (more villages, I guess)... but anyway...

TS have done pretty well without a Vile shout out before - they had  a Sell Out Fringe run in 2011 and did Patrick Marber’s The Musicians in 2012. I'm impressed to see a young company take on Maber - he's one of those neo-brutalists that I love, and he was on Alan Partridge in the old days.

Here's some plot, press release and details. They did have some good quotes from previous years, but I cut them on the grounds that they came from rival publications. Petty? Me?

In Journey to X, a group of friends have formed a new band. Now all they have to do is raise the money to get to London to audition for the world’s biggest talent contest. However, not everything is a glamorous as it seems, as their journey for fame and fortune is really for something far less dazzling.

In a culture of instant fame and talent show stories, we see the importance of life and friendship. A tale about companionship, a journey and the risks that teenagers take when plunged into an adult world.

Journey to X was written by Nancy Harris as a brand new play for young actors and was commissioned by The National Theatre Connections and was premiered at the National Theatre by MorePies Productions in June 2012.

The TS Drama Theatre Company are derived from Taunton School’s sixth form drama students (aged 17-19) and perform primarily in Somerset. At the Edinburgh Festival, this is our third year performing, after 2011’s Sold Out ‘Dial H! for Hitchcock’ and last years ‘The Musicians’. In Somerset, we performed the English premier of 'Phantom of the Opera' licensed for amateur groups. Recently, we also won the NDFA British All Winners Final 2013 with Derek Bowskill’s ‘Burnup’, becoming British Champions in the category of One Act play.

 TheSpaceUK (TheSpace @ Surgeon’s Hall) Venue 53
19th-24th August, 13:10 (45 minutes)

Red Bastard (1)

I am pinning my colours to the mast, and they are the colour of blood and desire. Red Bastard is the most important artist working in the Fringe this year. That's not to say that there aren't shows other people would enjoy more, or are as good. But as someone who spends his life in the business of criticism, a performance that is a critique of laziness and fear is going to press my buttons. And I don't usually take pleasure in being the submissive.

I've mentioned in the past how I like the Fringe because it is a rare chance for a review to actually make a difference - I think that is naive, as the success of a performance depends more on word of mouth, or celebrity, or the weather than my star rating. I really like the Fringe because it might start off some interesting conversations. There was a half-way decent effort last year with a Facebook group about star ratings - although the hypocrisy of those who bemoaned it while plastering their posters with ratings was hilarious. Now that we have twitter and bulletin boards, the conversations are littering the internet like bacon sandwich wrappers around the Royal Mile.

Red Bastard is going to be the foundation of any conversations I have. He points out, pretty clearly, that the worth of the show is not what goes on in the front, but what happens in the mind of the audience. It's the commitment of the spectator that makes the quality shine. Other factors - like whether the guy leaping about in the big suit has any talent - are secondary. No screaming - just remember: it's all in your head.

The conversation he provokes is something about... where does theatre happen, and how does it relate to reality. He has a great sequence where he asks whether the audience would prefer it if he pretended that they weren't there - and perhaps he ought to pretend to be someone he isn't. The idea of playing is repulsive to him - although he toys with emotions, and the persona is hardly the man who came on my radio show and spoke so movingly of his art.

There are many actors in the Fringe: if they'd like to see what their craft is capable of doing, check him out (before he checks you out. You don't want a six foot eight man in a jumpsuit watching from the wings). If you want to change your life, see him (although last time this didn't end so well for me...).






The only reason not to indulge Red Bastard is if you are not feeling brave enough.

Fringe Blather

We last left Vile lost in the forest. Appropriately, he realises this post at the time he is lost in the Fringe. It's been a week, and he is wandering somewhere around Edinburgh, pretending he is Red Bastard. He is currently trying to convince random actors that they ought to enrol in Lecoq, or waste their lives 'pretending to be someone they are not.'

He's been heard making the usual complaints. The first one is that the Fringe is full of shows that are too long. In the past, he has questioned the impact of the Fringe on the length of plays ('artists think of the Fringe and make everything run at just under an hour, the needs of the narrative be damned.'). This year, he's worried that some companies are trying to be too generous, extending the action by half an hour when they have a good forty minutes worth of action. Most notably, Omega suffers from this. It has a series of amazing circus style routines, topped off by an MC who is just bellowing and making it run slow.

Boredom isn't a problem in theatre - there are shows where the bloody-mindedness of the director, making the audience pay attention is part of the point. Vile is trying to catch up with Peter Higgs, reckoning that the man who thought of the particle that defines the universe will probably be able to write the equation that shows the relationship between content and running time. Vile's first thoughts are along the lines of: if (value of content) is less than (length of show) then this equals Audience(bored). Invert the values and you get Audience(Confused).

To be honest, he is only waiting to announce that tomorrow, on Fresh Air, he has Red Bastard as his guest. Listen in: he has a confession to make...

Fringe Christian top two

I’m surprised that Christianity has any credit left in theatre. It’s not that I’m complaining – it’s just that it’s been getting such a pasting lately, and atheism has become the default setting for anyone who wants to boast of their intellectual prowess. Comedians have been quick on the up-take: if I see another loud-mouthed Australian comic deconstructing the story of Noah’s ark, I might literally die of boredom.

Perhaps the various Judeo-Christian inspired plays aren’t expressions of a stubborn faith, but are the signs of a religion becoming part of the artistic rather than spiritual world. I’ll doubtless work out a fairytale top ten later in the Fringe: perhaps Biblical stories offer similar opportunities to Grimm tales. It might even be evidence of anti-religious sentiment. These plays might ruthlessly mock Christian beliefs.

It’s unlikely that Inquiry into the Death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ (Christadelphian Church) is going to be too cynical. It’s odd to see it between a two-hander about marriage going bad and a study of internet relationships in the theatre section: it has the flavour of an intellectual discussion than a performance.

Cain (theSpace) is one of the Bible’s bad boys: first murderer, gives God cheek, and ended up getting a mark on his noggin (a detail used to horribly racist effect by various Christian groups in the less enlightened past) so that the other kids knew not to play with him. Municipal Theatre, London kit him out as a prototype Faustus, getting him involved in a deal with the Big Bad, Lucifer.

I’m not sure this is strictly Biblical – as far as I remember, Cain got sent off for his fratricidal antics, and ends up a bit-part actor in the unfolding of the Torah – but it suggests that the old stories retain an iconic power. 

The Swedge

At some point, I was trying to do a top twenty of female performances at the Fringe. Lack of clear definition - did I mean solo shows, or stuff that was about women, or did there have to be a majority of female cast members, or was being written by a woman enough - made the whole thing impossible. I learnt two important things: there are plenty of women at the Fringe (which might allow some kind of statistical analysis to challenge the idea that women are excluded from the arts), and that gender does not necessarily imply commonality.

The list was full of acts who had nothing in common, except the biological determinism of gender. I even discovered plenty of female stand up comedians - not enough that I now believe it is any less of a drunken boys' club - and noticed that cabaret attracts more women than men.

Here's number thirteen (or wherever I got up to...):

The Wedge: a gripping urban thriller delivered starkly, simply and close-up.

The New Statesman says that this one is 'arrestingly ambiguous' (nice alliteration, but not necessarily helping me to understand what it will be like. Naomi Said wrote it, and is performing it. It is at Zoo Southside, which is a solid recommendation. I have seen some good work at Zoo over the years, usually just outside of the mainstream theatre styles but not right off the edge...

The company, Theatre Absolute, have won two Fringe Firsts. Here's the press release. 

With stark simplicity, the audience is held in an engrossing atmosphere, which ignites the senses. Illusions of other people in the space, shifting locations and fractured time are created through vibrant imagery and a boldly imaginative performance, conjuring filmic visuals in the audience's imagination.


Returning to the fields where she found abandon and adventure as a kid, Jess makes a discovery that changes everything. Directed by Chris O'Connell, The Wedge is a haunting new piece of storytelling about finding out, hiding away and seeking a place to go.


Themes of displacement, secrecy and trust are explored through rhythmic and elliptical text, with the audience drawn deeply into Jess' confession through the honesty and immediacy of the spoken word. A building sense of community, intimacy and privacy empowers a distinctly personal response from each audience member. 

ZOO Southside (Studio) Venue 82 117 Nicholson Street, Edinburgh EH8 9ER

Fri 2 – Mon 26 Aug at 3.30pm

£8.00 (£7.00 concs)

50 minutes

Some ideas that I stole from Eric about politics

I stole this mans ideas for this blog. 

Although Eric and I have formally divided the radio show (he does the second hour, if you want to escape my rambling and interruptions of good guests), we still argue and bicker behind the scenes. Today it has been politics and theatre. We had the statement 'all theatre is political,' and I just had to ruin a perfectly good afternoon ranting about the intrusion of the political into the private sphere.

My working definition of politics is 'the power structures that manage society,' and everything does engage with these. But if 'all theatre' 'is' 'political'  - a statement that is true, since everything is defined by those power relations, especially when they are hidden - then it begs the question: why bother making theatre if it is merely a subset of a larger field. The artist with political intentions (that is, is interested in either challenging or supporting the existing power structures) would be better off joining the Conservatives and making changes from within.

The problem is  - and note the irony of this sentence - in that word 'is.' It means too much. It suggests a straight association of theatre and politics. I want to know what 'is' means. When I am reviewing, and the certainty of using the verb 'to be' is too concrete, I can use 'seem' or 'appears.' But that doesn't work here.

All theatre might, say, represent, politics. Or reflect politics, or engage with politics - and again, I am reminded of my old pal Billy Bragg (you know, the one who did a duet with Amanda Palmer). He said 'all music is political,' and pointed out how Spandau Ballet's videos, with their glamour and fuss, were as political as his war-weary socialist anthems. Yes, all theatre does reflect the political base upon which it is constructed - that's Marxist aesthetics 101 (I think...).

But pretty clearly, that can be applied to everything - even my chats with Eric have a power structure subtext. Hopefully, that's not all that is going on - I rather hope our friendship isn't a mere facade to hide  the hegemony of communication. I think theatre is the same - and to say it is 'all... political' takes me only so far.

But the talk of political theatre actually refers to theatre that is actively engaged in discussing the power structures - there's a range of issue that make a work political. These days, it is mostly those riots in London. Given that there is that referendum coming up soon, it's odd that national identity hasn't emerged as a 'political' theme in the Fringe this year. Certainly, there has been work during the year that has considered it. But it's not getting a shout in the Fringe, and there is an article in the preview copy of Fest that questions this.

In this sense, not all theatre is political - or even represents politics. And I am back in a world where divided work into 'political' and non-political can make sense.

No Way To Read The Fringe

I am going to take some time out from the Giants in the Forest and my attempt to put together a Fringe timetable. Instead, I am going to whine about criticism, about the impossible task of putting together any survey of the Fringe that isn't either wilfully obscure (I've been seeking out the Live Art, again, and have a line-up that includes The Wau Wau Sisters starting off naked and then getting dressed)  or just repeats the same golden names that dominate every magazine's coverage (Traverse, Summerhall, the various rising Scottish writers).

This isn't going to be an attack on a perceived establishment of artists - although I do think one exists, and it seems important to avoid simply including them 'to make sure I have covered the basics.' For the record, I think that the names who are turning up in every magazine (Hurley, Bissett, Greig, Harrower) are talented and intriguing - to the extent that, if they do something I don't like, I am willing to wonder why and not storm off in a sulk.

This won't be much use as a guide for the Fringe punter, either. I'll mention stuff, give a few links, but there is more about criticism. File it under self-indulgence or frustrated artist: that gives a flavour of my mood.

The clue is in the title. It's supposed to be the Fringe - the margin, the bit outside, the playful, the adventurous. Having spent too much time reading queer theory lately, I'm worried that the Fringe is another word for Trade Fair or Alternative Establishment. There are a fair number of big names in the programme - the Assembly and Traverse have performers who are the closest thing that theatre gets to celebrities. To be blunt, the Traverse doesn't really run a Fringe season: its August bookings are effectively an undiluted series of the sorts of work the venue runs during the rest of the year.

Knowing that this is the sort of thing that I know can offend people, let me re-iterate: that's okay. The programme is good. There are real highlights in their list - inevitably Ontroerend Goed (Fight Night) and the new Harrower (Ciara) are at the top of my list. Between them, they'll give me rough, tough political debate and sensitive characterisation in a language both recognisable and poetic.

But I am trying to find out where the surprises are going to be. I am excited about Gecko's Missing, but I know that they are good: I saw them do The Overcoat a few years ago, and The Guardian gave them four stars. 

There are smaller venues that I trust. Zoo has always mixed up the idiosyncratic and the confident - a day at Greenside is always a treat. But having done 'venue of the month' for the past five years, I'm reluctant to lend more weight to the curatorial model of festival experience. 

I might go and read Mark Fisher's book for a few clues, but I am worrying about two things. First of all, do the critics create a vision of the Fringe that privileges artists who are either officially emerging (that is, funding bodies are interested in them) or are who already part of an establishment? There's great stuff going on at all levels - Mark Ravenhill is doing a cabaret style show, a bold move for the man who started off as one of those pesky neo-brutalists. But the madcap stuff at the bottom gets eased out.

Then I am concerned that smaller artists are getting lost in the mix. I'll be unpleasant and say that I am not that keen on seeing forty student productions this year. Again, it is not that I don't like them, it just feels as if they belong in another place. I'm pondering (outside of the Fringe) how youth theatre and community theatre can be critiques (and my answers are brilliant, revolutionary). Setting them toe-to-toe with the NTS or Gecko is a bit pointless. 

But there are professional companies who are working on a scale that means it might be difficult to spot them between the University companies - since the youth companies do take risks, there might be a profound difference between the two gender-blind versions of Hamlet. One might be by students, the other by the revolutionary director who is a celebrity in her homeland, but gets no reviews in Edinburgh because no-one knows her name. 

Next Blog: I find a way to blame comedy.

Finale note: all the artists mentioned in this piece are worth the price of admission. There is no suggestion that the Traverse is anything less than a major venue, and that all of their shows are quality. You might not like them, but that's taste...

Man of Steel, Woman of Bugs

From another production of the same play

My venerable colleague in criticism, Mr Michael Cox, took me to see Man of Steel. While I do not like to complain about anything that attended with a friend, I spent quite a bit of the film wondering whether Zack Snyder realises quite how many phallic symbols he includes in his movies. I mean, there are bound to be a few, but encasing general Zod inside a flying dildo is pushing it.

When I had finished shouting after the film, Michael and I fell into familiar conversations about theatre. At one point, he asked me how many plays I could name by Tennessee Williams. This is not some sort of macho challenge game that critics play ('I'll see your twenty Aeschylus plays and raise you a trilogy') but part of a discussion about the relative hit rates of 'great artists.'

I managed to name about five.  He did a few more than that. The point being, even the Big Names of theatre had more duds than scores.

This makes it easy enough to discover a Williams play that has not been done before. 3Bugs, coming straight out of Birmingham, have got a short one, The Pink Bedroom, which is part of their season at the Fringe.

Although Cox makes a good point about the hit rate of the average successful writer, I still wish the Fringe had more of this kind of programming: rare plays by people I think I know. Admittedly, The Pink Bedroom  has got a little bit of that old Williams heat about it. Pairing it with Wuthering Heights makes it clear: let's get into some of that nasty passion.

Last year, 3Bugs did The Bloody Chamber - they like some hardcore action. Bring it on, Fringe 2013...








3BUGS

Edinburgh Fringe Festival 2013

The Morning After Season: Wuthering Heights & The Pink Bedroom

The Morning After Season: two shows marked by carelessness, affected by loss and sobered by the morning after.
Wuthering Heights ‘I am Heathcliff! He's always ... in my mind: Not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.’ (Catherine, Wuthering Heights)



Set amongst the heath and harebells, Brontë's novel tells the tale of the enduring, passionate and ultimately destructive love of Heathcliff and Catherine. Presented with a modern twist, 3BUGS presents a version of Wuthering Heights, which re-situates this classic story to the unfulfilled generation of the 1980s.

‘Heathcliff and Catherine truly embodied the idea that existence isn’t pure or idealised, but wild, passionate, cruel, and powerful.’ Redbrick

The Pink Bedroom ‘The Pink Bedroom ... worse than drink or drugs.’ (Tennessee Williams)

Following its UK premiere in 2008, 3BUGS presents the rarely performed, one-act Tennessee Williams play that explores the declining relationship between a man and a woman who are reduced by desire to nothing other than a 'lump of flesh' and a cloying pink bedroom. This leaves her confronted with the question: can a mistress ever be entitled to as much as a wife?



theSpace on the Mile
2-24 August (not 4, 11, 18). Previews 2 & 3 August
Performed in alteration. Wuthering Heights 5 August, The Pink Bedroom 6 August