‘ARCADE’ (Venue 26, until AUG 26th)

“Thanks to smart sets, soundscapes and sensory effects, it all feels unsettlingly real.”

Editorial Rating: 4 Stars (Nae Bad)

I was a kid in the 80s and have fond memories of the video games of that era. They might look terribly basic to today’s youth, but at the time they were new and exciting. We played Pac-Man, Frogger, Space Invaders, Donkey Kong and the like over and over, bashing away at the simple controls as we climbed levels and knocked one another off the leaderboards.

So, I was intrigued by the prospect of Darkfield’s Arcade at the Edinburgh Fringe this year. Billed as drawing on the 8-bit aesthetic of the 80s, it offers the chance to “enter the world of the game and choose your own unique journey.” My expectations were quite high. I’ve been to two previous Darkfield productions – Séance and Flight – and enjoyed both. This team specialises in innovative 360 degree audio experiences. Shipping containers are transformed into highly immersive theatre spaces where you find yourself a participant in a Victorian séance, or strapped into a cramped airplane seat as a passenger on an unconventional journey. Thanks to smart sets, soundscapes and sensory effects, it all feels unsettlingly real.

Arcade sticks to the formula with its shipping container venue, but this is a much less passive experience. With Séance and Flight you take a seat, and take it all in. Here, you’re literally at the controls. Each audience member (player) takes their place at a different arcade machine. You’re given headphones and instructions to press a button to respond to yes or no questions and pointed towards the coin slot where you can use tokens, when prompted, if you choose. The room is then plunged into total darkness, and the game begins.

I won’t comment too much on the actual content. Spoilers could influence your decision-making, and indeed by all accounts the story varies significantly based on the choices you make – choices that have immediate consequences. For me, suffice to say I witnessed an unpleasant murder, played guitar in a band and may have inadvertently joined a cult.

The narrative does feel a bit disjointed at times. It isn’t always entirely clear who’s doing what, and why. But – much like the video games of my youth – the ‘why’ doesn’t always really matter. Arcade is totally immersive – characters seem to approach from all directions, barking instructions in your face, or whispering questions in your ear. It’s creepy and disorienting, standing there in the dark trying to decide which voice to trust.

Arcade is not the nostalgia trip you might expect. It’s pitch dark in every sense and there’s little real connection to the retro, 8-bit world of the 80s. But it’s also thought-provoking, creepy fun. If you’ve never been to a Darkfield production before I suspect you won’t have experienced anything quite like it. If you have, you’ll have an idea of what to expect, but that won’t help you pick the right path.

Get your jean jacket coats on and try it for yourself!


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‘OH OH’ (Venue 300, until AUG 25th)

“What this duo deliver is a compelling blend of slapstick humour and impressive, effortlessly-executed acrobatics as the duo play games, skip rope and dance.”

Editorial Rating: 5 Stars (Outstanding)

Edinburgh’s Festival Fringe is not a quiet place. It’s loud, brash and in your face. Circus shows, in particular, often arrive in town in an explosion of sequins, feathers and graphic content warnings. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. I love the pizzazz of it all. And I like to be a little shocked on occasion, it keeps me on my toes.

Compagnia Baccalà’s OH OH takes a different tack. This show is billed as a ‘joyful combination of acrobatics and slapstick’ that harks back to the silent movie era. There are no content warnings here.

I was pleased to spot it in the listings. Some years ago, I saw Baccalà’s Chaplinesque PSS PSS in a small-ish venue at the Fringe. It was an absolute delight of a show and one I often think of when asked about my Fringe favourites over the years.

I was far from alone in loving PSS PSS, so it came as no surprise that they’re now in a bigger venue than when I last saw them – the iconic Udderbelly in George Square Gardens (for the uninitiated; a giant purple tent in the shape of an upside-down cow.) OH OH begins with a spotlight on a sleeping clown, Simone Fassari, the stage otherwise dark and empty. A rope ladder appears from above, and his companion, Camille Pessi, descends to wake him.

These are not modern, red-nosed clown stereotypes. Simone is in relatively subdued attire of shirt, trousers, braces – a shabby chic, Buster Keaton sort of a look. Camille is more vivacious, pixie-like in striped top and tights, flouncing red velvet skirt and shorts, and gravity-defying curly pigtails. While he is hangdog, bemused and (at least initially) slightly downbeat, she is wide-eyed and sparky, her highly expressive face cycling rapidly through curiosity, amusement and pure mischief.

OH OH is a wordless performance, with occasional music effectively used to set the tone as it shifts from exuberant play to fleeting melancholy and back again. There’s little peril in their antics – don’t expect the ‘death-defying’ tricks you might see elsewhere at the Fringe – what this duo deliver is a compelling blend of slapstick humour and impressive, effortlessly-executed acrobatics as the duo play games, skip rope and dance.

Camille is often the scene-stealer, whether clambering through the audience to catch a ball or navigating the rope ladder while playing an accordion – without missing a note. Simone, however, gets some of the biggest laughs as he pivots between irritation and amusement at his show-off companion. They have a competitive, occasionally antagonistic relationship – but there is no heat in their squabbling. Where conflicts bubble up they are quickly resolved and the games begin again.

If I had any concerns that OH OH couldn’t live up to PSS PSS they were quickly dispelled. There’s no radical departure here, the two shows are similar in their timeless look and feel, but that familiarity is very welcome in this case. OH OH is warm, engaging and utterly charming. The audience, of all ages, loved it and the majority gave the duo a standing ovation; a prize not always easily won at the Fringe.

Get your coats on and go see this!

 


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‘Sh!t-faced Shakespeare®: Much Ado About Nothing’ (Venue 150, until AUG 25th)

“There’s nothing highbrow about this production. The premise is simple, and (literally) intoxicating.”

Editorial Rating:5 Stars (Outstanding)

I want to like Shakespeare. He can spin a good yarn, no argument from me there. And I’m Scottish, so having a vague fondness for MacBeth is hardwired. I like a bit of Romeo and Juliet too – but I prefer West Side Story. I like it all dumbed down a little, I suppose. The language barrier is the main issue for me. I get lost in the wherefores and the hithertos, and not in a good way. Pure, undiluted Shakespeare just feels like school to me. I expect to be quizzed on my understanding of it later, and I expect to fail.

So, Shakespeare is rarely on my theatrical hitlist, if I’m honest. But Sh!t-faced Shakespeare is a bit different. There’s nothing highbrow about this production. The premise is simple, and (literally) intoxicating. Each night, one member of a classically-trained cast gets somewhat inebriated before taking the stage. Chaos ensues.

Edinburgh regulars may well be familiar with the concept. Sh!t-faced Shakespeare has been a Fringe stalwart for some years now, and is proudly billed as a “five-star, multi sell-out Fringe phenomenon”. This year, the team have brought Much Ado About Nothing to town, and on the night I attended it was Benedick who’d had a few. Compère Jess, in top hat and sequins, steered the show along, on occasion halting the proceedings with the blast of an air horn to remind the errant thespian of the second rule of Sh!tfaced Shakespeare – don’t mess with the set – and indeed on one occasion to disentangle him from a trellis. She also issued audience members with a tambourine and a gong, with instructions to deploy them to signal that Benedick’s drink might need topped up. Which they gleefully did.

If all of this sounds a bit like an adult pantomime to you, you’re not far wrong. The overblown humour, the posturing, the knowing nods to the audience – many of whom are clearly regular attendees – all set quite a familiar tone. (To British audiences at least – I’m not sure that panto is really much of a thing elsewhere.) The set, too, is reminiscent of the local pantos of my youth. Much less minimalist than your average Fringe show, the scenery looks hand-painted, a cheery, cartoonish backdrop to the tale’s Messina setting. The costume design is traditional, to a point. While the classic period costumes would likely not look out of place on an RSC stage, the exaggerated cod-pieces might.

The sober cast members’ traditional acting skills were also apparent, though quickly overshadowed by adept improv as they reacted to the antics of an increasingly lairy Benedick. The play moved along at pace, if not in the direction its author intended. The plot, after all, is all but incidental and no two performances will be the same. Did it wholly live up to its ‘Fringe phenomenon’ promise on the night? Probably not – some of the more puerile gags elicited more of an eye-roll than a genuine laugh – but it was anarchic, sweary fun. And the audience was along for the ride, the front rows whooping as Benedick kicked his (plastic) empties in their direction.

True Shakespeare purists will hate this show. Please stay away. Shield your eyes, it’s not for you. The rest of you will probably have a grand old time – if you’re in the mood for something unabashedly silly. Get your doublets on and go see this!


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