REVIEW: NEW FOUND SOUND

SquareOne Entertainment

by Katie Smyth

Being SquareOne’s regular theatre lovey’s a hard job but somebody’s got to do it. Interval wine, plush red velvet seats and schmoosing with Edinburgh’s theatrical darlings has become the name of the game, leaving gig reviews and all things hip to our very own Uncle Hammond. But in an attempt to “keep it real” and offer our avid readers a different perspective we’ve mixed it up with a little role reversal. So having cringed his way through a Nigel Havers production at the King’s Theatre earlier this month Hammond reaped his revenge, dragging me away from my carefully carved niche at the Lyceum to the Wee Red Bar for a night of electro rock.

Glam it isn’t but there’s something rather endearing about the sheer scumminess of the ECA’s cramped union. While the toilets are best not visited without a PhD in hygiene or detonation, the gin’s cold and there’s enough cute indie boys to keep the skinny jean industry in trade for the foreseeable future.

We were here for a showcase of fresh, up and coming new talent - eccentric enough to fit in with the 20 art students who formed the bulk of an intimate yet enthusiastic audience. So glow-sticked up we took our places for the first set by Juno, a band of naïve young pups with logo tee-shirts, obligatory uber-stylish haircuts and a distinct lack of bottoms.

There’s something to be said for the guts and tenacity of a band who keep playing even when they blatantly can’t handle their own technology. The truth is jumping and spinning like the proverbial whirling dervish does not mix with a tin-pot synth which spluttered and shrieked before throwing up half way through the first song. Not to be deterred Juno skilfully rearranged their rubix cubes, adjusted their fluorescent spectacles and kept on leaping. When all else fails resort to retro kid’s toys and maracas. Eventually the technology monkeys got the system up and running and we were treated to the soundtrack of a cheap Japanese porno, complete with a token Sesame Street sample. Definite crowd pleasers Juno’s insatiable energy and flamboyant dancing was reminiscent of a theatrical show.

Keeping with the theatrics theme the Futuristic Retro Champions opened their set with a display of frontwoman Cecelia’s knickers as she executed handstands to the evident joy of Manson, the band’s resident groupie. An eclectic mix of keyboard, bass, trumpet and a singer who fancies herself a bit of a Debbie Harry - FRC are cute and kitch, if a tad sloppy. The sound just wasn’t clean enough with a bit too much going on, especially the orgasmic screaming in “DIY Lovesong.”

Following the antics of the first two groups Weegie headliners Kobai were left a mere 15 minutes to show the others how it’s done. The ethereal Placeboesque voice of the lead singer was beautifully juxtaposed by the hairy yetis moshing and headbanging on the synths and keyboards. Starting rocky, the set crescendoed through cow bells, finishing with a track verging on classic techno that left you reminiscing about the glory days of Underworld and making shapes in a dodgy back alley club in Prague. Finally the glow-sticks were explained.

A 10pm curfew cut short one great and two mediocre sets and we left Manson deciding which FRC girl, (or boy) to sleep with tonight with ringing ears and a healthy interest in Kobai’s prospects.

THEATRE REVIEW: TRUMPETS AND RASPBERRIES

SquareOne Entertainment

by Katie Smyth

Rosa Brodie is having a bad time of it. It has been months since her husband Tony left her to take up jogging and wheatgerm with twenty years younger Lucy, “The Bitch,” and a relentless course of voodoo and book collecting have so far failed to return her beloved. Then one day Rosa is called on to identify the charred body of her rogue hubbie, so badly disfigured in a terrorist skirmish which led to his boss’ abduction, that only his “wee ears” are recognisable. But hope remains. A team of talented surgeons led by an eccentric German with a penchant for sedatives, sepositories and socialist women set about rebuilding Tony’s mangled face using the tissue from his buttocks.

All starts swimmingly and on the long road to recovery the former Fiat worker and union rep even extends his vocabulary to include “astronaut” and “concupiscence,” much to the frustration of his sloganeering spouse. The problem is he simply cannot recognise the woman he now calls madam as his wife. Matters are further complicated when a stranger with an identical face turns up and the investigation into Sir John Lamb’s abduction draws uncomfortably close.

In this intriguing, skillfully characterised McAvoy adaptation, The Lyceum masterfully transposes Dario Fo’s Italian farce to an Edinburgh sometime in the near future. Here David Cameron is Prime Minister, Paris Hilton a US senator and vibrating trams lend furniture a life of their own. Infidelity, mistaken identity and the ramblings of rehabilitation leave the audience gasping for breath in this rumbustious romp. Never has a meat grinder caused so many shoulders to shake, as the hapless Rosa force feeds Tony sausage through his nose. An inspired climax to the Lyceum’s impressive season.

Trumpets and Raspberries is showing at Edinburgh's Royal Lyceum until Sat 10 May

PUT A KILT ON IT

SquareOne Entertainment

by Katie Smyth

The Emporer's New Kilt: Review

Hans Christian Anderson's classic fairytale gets the Scottish treatment as Wee Stories Company cleverly transpose The Emperor's New Clothes to the fictitious Isle of Kiltie. The ridiculous Laird of the Isle who owns "all the trees and the hills and even the grass" is in a flummox deciding what to demand for his special birthday surprise. Worse still the man whose wardrobe is replete with a kilt for every day of the year petulantly announces, "I've got nothing to wear!" Enter the scheming Mr Harris and Mr Tweed, producers and purveyors of a cloth so special only clever people can see it. They set about to expose the vain and pompous laird in his birthday suit as the play in turn exposes the oppression of inherited privilege, tenancy and greed.

Not that the target audience were struck by the inadequacies of materialism and the capitalist, semi-feudal system in place on Kiltie. To the kids of the Kings Theatre audience The Emperor's New Kilt was nothing more than a romp complete with singing sporrans, a Big Jessie and a stag with an identity crisis. And while there was surely something rather wrong and unsettling about an auditorium of kids encouraging a "true Scotsman" to strip down to his hand-crafted polar bear fur sporran, much of the other double entendres and dirty jokes were thankfully the strict reserve of the mums and dads.

An outrageously camp Iain Johnstone lorded it up in the titular role demanding a kilt worthy of a king or Queen while co-writer Andy Cannon entertained as Ramsay the ill-fated sheep destined for the Laird's birthday haggis. An imaginative woven set, fast-paced role changes and elements of the pantomime combined to spark a cacophony of hoots, chortles and big belly laughs from kids and grown-ups alike.

The Emperor's New Kilt is showing at Kings Theatre, Edinburgh until Saturday 19 April

Photo by pamelaadam

THEATRE REVIEW: VANITY FAIR

By Katie Smyth

SquareOne Entertainment


Every day the news seems to herald one financial catastrophe after another. It has become ever more difficult to flick through the channels without hearing the FTSE closed today down by however many points, something or other was hedged while the Bank of England plans to free up however much liquidity to aid such and such. For those of us not well versed in the jargon of finance the overall effect is too often one of frustration, confusion or, worst of all, apathy. To stave off business information saturation some may run for the theatre, where for two hours at least we can surely forget the impending doom, no? Not according to Steve McNicoll, currently starring on stage at Edinburgh’s Lyceum. To him the present credit crunch has reached its theatrical incarnation in Vanity Fair. Here McNicoll and his co-star Sophia Linden tell SquareOne why they believe this nineteenth century masterpiece is enjoying continued social relevance.

To many people the works of William Makepeace Thackeray are entities firmly rooted in the past and as such any dramatic adaptation can be blithely consigned to the wasteland of the Sunday night period drama slot. Something to curl up in front of for two hours as corsets, breaches and starched petticoats wash over us in a haze of taffeta and lace. Such is the common misconception of those entering the Lyceum’s auditorium according to Sophia Linden, the 24 year old actress presently bewitching all in the central role of Becky Sharp. She explains this adaptation presents Thackeray’s sprawling novel in a much more stylised form.

For those unfamiliar, Vanity Fair examines the petty intrigues of “Society” against the backdrop of Waterloo. The action follows the lives of Amelia Sedley and Becky Sharp. While Amelia commits herself to a life of misery marrying the worthless cad George Osborne, the penniless Becky sets out using her feminine charms to entrap Captain Crawley and together the pair carve out a place in society, living on “nothing a year.”

Edinburgh seems to have caught the Vanity Fair bug so what accounts for the apparent continued cultural relevance of such an historical play? While McNicoll and Linden both heartily laud its success they experience an artistic clash of opinion in explaining it. For him Vanity Fair works so well in today’s society because it addresses the issues of financial strife. For her it’s all about the cult of celebrity.

The practice of living on borrowed money is nothing new, a fact Thackeray knew only too well. The author writes with full authority on the plights of his characters, warning the reader that to emulate the man who lives on nothing a year, “will cost you something considerable.”

The contemporanity of the various characters’ precarious financial positions is not lost on McNicoll. He claims, “Vanity Fair deals with issues that are still very much with us, especially the credit crunch.” The play took to the stage the same week as the Bear Stearns crisis and McNicoll draws comparisons between that situation and the one his character’s father, Old Mr Sedley, finds himself in. McNicoll claims that just like modern investors Sedley too has bought into an insecure market so that when the various battles of the Napoleonic Wars strike his capital is shaken and eventually collapses. McNicoll claims, “With people today living on borrowed money how could Vanity Fair fail to be of relevance?”

At this point however McNicoll and Linden cross swords. Playing one of literature’s most infamous anti-heroines it comes as no surprise that Linden accounts for Vanity Fair’s continued relevance in the universal appeal of Becky Sharp: “Young women love Becky. She represents characters we see in the media today. Look at Jordan, Chantelle etc. These are women who know where they want to go with no real talent or trade in mind.” For Linden then Vanity Fair holds a mirror up to modern day life where meek women such as Amelia flounder while the ballsy, coquettish Becky-types trade on their pretty faces and sex appeal to woo society. Just as Becky carves out her niche in the Mayfair set Victoria Beckham has grappled her way to Hollywood on a pout and a marketable husband.

Whatever the secret to the play’s continued charm and appeal there is no denying its ability to captivate. Playing to sell-out audiences every night it is the combination of calculating protagonist and contemporary relevance that makes it a hit. Just don’t go if you’re seeking solace from the Stock Exchange.

Vanity Fair is playing at the Lyceum, Edinburgh until 12th April

THEATRE REVIEW: SINGLE SPIES

King's Theatre, Edinburgh

by Chris Hammond

SquareOne Entertainment

Nigel Havers is a name that inspires. I, in my formative years at least, quite literally yearned to be Nigel Havers when I was older. Not too tall, spindly and boyish, but boozy, hedonistically absorbed and caddish with a penchant for throwaway women, shoes and a damn good blazer. I am referring of course to Nigel’s performance in now redundant BBC midlife crisis drama/comedy Manchild.

Now in my mid twenties and counting down the years till I can truly replicate his amoral screen persona, I was quite frankly frenzied to learn that he was coming to Edinburgh to perform as (how suitably) a spy in an Alan Bennett play! Enlisting the aid of my best friend, I descended onto the Kings Theatre to partake in what I thought would be two hours of Havers bounding, blethering, boozing and bedding in the name of Her Majesty’s Secret Services.

Notebook in hand, more for taking down tips than forming notes, I grabbed my seat expectantly. What unfolded was two hours of esoteric art babble, Carry On-esque innuendo, rigidly unbelievable conversation, very little espionage and a jaded, sterile Havers decked out in suits so shiny they could have come from Burtons.

Alan Bennett wrote this in the late 80’s, and it shows. With many of the Cold War jokes redundant, the audience needed something to hold their flagging attention. Split into two entirely different short plays and with little to suggest either segment was worthy of extended development I could only console myself that someone somewhere had to be having a worse evening.

Oh how they japed about the national gallery and the Queen and communism! Oh how I receded further into my seat biting my fist in order to repress a roar of “Nigel do something manly!” Finally, mercifully, the 1980’s Are You Being Served style chit-chat ended and as I mutely applauded the team taking their bow all I could think about was alcohol, the attractive usher and why my plus one looked like he wanted to strangle me.

ARTIFICIAL REALITY

by Katie Smyth


SquareOne Entertainment





Theatrical self-consciousness is nothing new. In Henry V, Shakespeare recognised the limitations of "this wooden O" by inciting his audience to believe itself to be on the field of Agincourt. Later, the advent of Modernism saw theatre throw off its cloak of naturalism and profess its falsity with a greater degree of openness than ever before. Today, gone are the days of entering the auditorium and suspending your disbelief.

Contemporary theatregoers are treated to stripped back sets and characters that often parody rather than play their parts to expose the performance to be nothing more than an act or representation of the real. In its past season Edinburgh's Lyceum Theatre has embraced such self-conscious drama, playing host to Brian Friel's Living Quarters and Pirendello's Six Characters in search of an Author. SquareOne Entertainment spoke to actor Ron Donachie who played the domineering father figure in each production to get to the crux of the matter and discover why drama which declares itself to be make-believe is proving so popular.

Striding into a quiet café, Donachie retains some of the militaristic air of his Living Quarters' character Commandant Frank Butler. His jaunty tam 'o shanter and billowing trench coat evoke something of the fictional war hero. However, open and friendly, Donachie chats freely about the plays with none of his character's brusque reserve.

Living Quarters enthralled audiences last November when the Lyceum staged its UK premier. Based on the Greek Phaedran cycle it tells the story of Commandant Butler's return from a UN peace-keeping mission to his home barracks only to discover that in his absence his new wife Anna, thirty years his junior, has been sleeping with his estranged son.

Such a classic plot lends itself easily to naturalism and a straight performance yet in a departure from his Greek model, Friel wills into being the character of Sir, an omniscient narrator/director who, assisted by a ledger which has captured every word and significant glance, attempts to afford the family clarity allowing them to replay the events of that day. The resulting self-conscious performance where the characters attempt to take liberties with the plot and break the rules of the ledger borrows as much from Brecht as Euripides.

The desire of characters to alter their destiny was taken even further later in the Lyceum's season when it staged Pirendello's dadaist Six Characters in search of an Author. Unlike Living Quarters in which the action is temporarily suspended, the characters actually invade a rehearsal, stop proceedings and beg the director and his troop of actors to tell their stories.

Donachie explains more: "this is a very sophisticated piece and people tend to get hung up on the legend surrounding it. There's a confusion between art and reality." Yet while Living Quarters drew glittering praise, it seems the blurring between stage and auditorium proved too much in the Pirendello.

Reviews varied in warmth and it appears some audience members were still too committed to suspending their disbelief and buying into the drama as real. Young playwright Hana Mackechnie found plenty to criticise in an apparent departure from realism. Having accepted the presentation that the entire plot was a rehearsal with the "characters" taking over, Mackechnie was disappointed when normal theatrical conventions appeared again: "I don't like that they had the curtain call because it was meant to be a rehearsal. Why did they break the illusion?" Donachie puts her confusion and disappointment down to audiences being unable to distinguish the self-conscious theatre it sees on the stage from the naturalistic performance it expects to see. Or to put it his way, "well that's just bollocks isn't it?"

Yet despite the switherings of certain theatregoers unable or unwilling to let go of their grounding in naturalism, the ever-present self-conscious drama looks set to stay at the Lyceum. In the current run of Vanity Fair, Becky Sharpe and chums delight whilst consistently reminding us that they are simply presenting a version of events. Theatre in Edinburgh has never looked more artificial, more stripped back and more aware of its limitations. And perhaps therein lies its strength.

Break the illusion yourself by going to the Lyceum: www.lyceum.org.uk

REVIEW: THE UNCONQUERED

by Katie Smyth

SquareOne Entertainment

The Unconquered

Stellar Quines Theatre Company

Clambering past fellow audience members and nearly falling into your neighbour's pint may not seem like the most comfortable theatre-going experience, but The Cave's cramped conditions suit the social claustrophobia of The Unconquered perfectly.

Trapped in the confines of bourgeois suburbia an unnamed girl spouts diatribes of rage at the mother who has stifled and smothered her in the name of a "good" upbringing. Yet far from being another commentary on teenage angst, Torben Betts' play plunges Britain into revolution, throws the Prime Minister into prison and puts anarchic junkies in charge of the mob. Social upheaval is watched with trepidation through the sitting room window by one middle-class family afraid to leave the security of their "nice" things.

Mutiny also seems probable within the family as a girl incites her mother to join the revolution and leave a data entering husband she describes as 'that dullard who shares my bed'. However, too afraid to throw off her duties, the monthly salary and casseroles flavoured with fresh dill, mother stands her ground, attempting to ignore the flaws in the family's "well-oiled machine."

As their plight worsens under a US air raid and hunger that leaves them contemplating eating next door's cat, salvation appears in the shape of an uncouth soldier sent to restore the peace. Steeped in middle-class sensibilities the couple initially object more to his foul language than his unsavoury attention to their daughter. Yet eventually, they abandon all scruples for a string of sausages.

Though comedy is never more than a quip away, the marionette-like performances and stark, monochrome set effectively expose the false and arbitrary nature of the "things" we build our lives on. The play's ever-present calls for change and warnings to avoid your parents' mistakes leaves the audience yearning to join in, "build a bonfire and burn the boybands."

The Unconquered, touring until 31st March

www.stellarquines.com