‘The Yellow Wallpaper’ (Lime Studio, Greenside @ George Street, until AUG 29 – not 16 or 23)

“A balletic psychodrama, energetically blurring the boundary between Jane’s life of confinement and the spectral surreality of her imagination.”

Editorial Rating: 5 Stars (Outstanding)

This is a vividly dramatic version of Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s 1892 short story, adapted for the stage as lively piece of dance theatre by sisters Caitlin and Megan Ort: with Caitlin the director and choreographer, whilst Megan doubles as associate director/choreographer and performs the central role of protagonist Jane.

The original story, often anthologised in collections of classic horror stories, is also a milestone in feminist literature due to its portrayal of patriarchal attitudes towards the physical and mental health of women in the late nineteenth century. Gilman’s story focuses on Jane, the wife of John, a doctor who has brought her to a rented country house for a “rest cure” – the standard treatment of isolation and inactivity of the era, prescribed for postpartum depression and what was then called “female hysteria”. Via John and Jane’s relationship, this adaptation highlights themes such as the medical profession’s attempts to silence and subdue women via enforced domestication. The wallpaper of the title symbolises Jane’s descent into madness as she imagines figures behind the peeling wallcovering in her bedroom.

Megan Ort is a highly expressive actor, whose first-person narration as Jane directly engages the audience, with her emotional state enhanced by bursts of vivid movement and dance. Morgan Blanchard portrays her doctor husband John as a loving spouse with sinister undertones as he administers the drugs to subjugate his wife; in this he is assisted by his sister Jennie, portrayed as a darkly smouldering femme fatale by Paloma D’Auria.

The choreographic element of this production does much to bring the supernatural and psychological aspects of the story to life; what would otherwise be mere narration is transformed into a balletic psychodrama, energetically blurring the boundary between Jane’s life of confinement and the spectral surreality of her imagination. The ghostly figures behind the wallpaper and the pent-up emotions in the room are physically brought to life by a trio of dancers: Maya Musial, Annie Sherman, and Claire van Bever. Their viscerally expressive movement is hypnotic as, by turns, they claustrophobically surround and haunt Jane, then express her frustration with wide-eyed writhing and terpsichorean leaps.

This is a feminist horror story like you’ve never seen before. This American troupe brought the audience to their feet for a standing ovation at the end of an action-packed hour in the Lime Studio, Greenside @ George Street. The show runs for the whole of the Fringe, but this medium-sized auditorium has a limited number of seats, so secure your tickets soon.

 


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‘How to Poop in an Outhouse at -58°C’ (Greenside @ George Street: Ivy Studio, until AUG 29)

“This is the story of a young woman empowering herself by doing six impossible things everyday before breakfast, and empowering others in the process.”

Editorial Rating: 5 Stars (Outstanding)

Kona Morris is my own great discovery of Edinburgh Fringe ‘26. If Theodore Roosevelt – the unstoppable, seriously try and stop him, literary outdoorsman, the death-defying explorer and naturalist – if TR was recast as a Disney princess, the result might look and feel a lot like our Kona and with the same capacity to hold a capacity crowd at the edge of their seats.

We enter to find a stage bare of bears and salmons and whirlpools and tiny log cabins in the middle of somebody’s somewhere but a long way from everywhere else’s creature comforts. Flicking back on my phone to the photo I took on entering, I am shocked at how, from the minimalist, ultra-Fringey compactness of Greenside’s Ivy Studio on George Street, such a massive story, still writ large across the mind’s eye, could have emerged. Morris achieves levels of total immersion storytelling that make it possible to believe that Alfred really did sing to the Vikings before Edington and Wedmore without them St Edmonding and burying him.

Walking softly but carrying a BIG stick, not THE big stick I am happy to learn later, Morris shares her lived experience of falling in love with a native Alaskan man, moving to his village and becoming part of his world. There’s a final twist in the tale and a post-credits vignette that are the icing and cherry on this gargantuan-scale cupcake. This is the story of a young woman empowering herself by doing six impossible things everyday before breakfast, and empowering others in the process. If the Victorian Edwardian adventures of Roosevelt’s day were in possession of an iota of Morris’ capacity for regard, reverence, and reflection for pre-Columbian roots, perhaps the world would be less beset with toxic cultural tumbleweed. Maybe.

Much of America (it seems to this horrible Auldworld nationalist) is yet to make the rigorous intellectual and spiritual journey undertaken in many parts of His Majesty’s Commonwealth towards recognising the value, the versatility, and the vision of First Peoples as well as the priceless inheritance their relationships with the world around them have nurtured down the centuries and millennia.

Kona Morris is an exceptional exception to this rule, an Arctic sunrise of hope that, with openness of mind, a bigness of heart, and a depth of soul beyond the ordinary, we can all learn more and better about what makes a successful community, a thriving society, and a valuable culture – and when it’s time to call it a day and live one’s own authentic life.

This is a story and a storytelling I hope my own girls will encounter on their journey to vigorous womanhood and the rough riding that the strenuous life inevitably throws at those whose faces are marred by dust and sweat and mud – the doers of deeds who are just trying to catch the California flight to a cousin’s wedding in this age having come off a long river journey seemingly from another time.

Come for the Disney princess telling the Alaskan wilderness like it is. Stay for the geometric storytelling that explodes the small arithmetics of a tiny venue. Get your two-sizes-too-big purple coats on and go see this!


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‘Mandy: Prince of Darkness’ (Ivy Studio at Greenside @ George Street, until AUG 29)

“Richard Stirling takes to the stage much as we are told Jeeves shimmers into any given room.”

Editorial Rating: 5 Stars (Nae Bad)

For four decades, he was the omnipresent, supposedly omnipotent king of spin. And then suddenly he wasn’t. Peter Mandelson’s political career spanned the sudden shift from the ultra-curated analogue print and broadcast age to a more open-access knowledge economy. Before the numberless influencers of digital media emerged, Mandelson was the guy who knew, the guy to know. But was he?

Unlike a pharaonic-scale engineer – a Brunel or an Eiffel – there are no great works dotted through the landscape to look upon and despair – the crashing crassness of the Millennium Dome aside. This supposed supremo – a rather anaemic English edition of Hanna, Atwater, or Carville – made his presence felt on the Westminster political stage, but was there ever any substance to his misty-mystery – or were we all imbibing the post hoc ergo propter hoc like it’s Oktoberfest? Labour won a landslide in ‘97 after Mandelson had been peacocking across the quarterdeck for years; therefore, because of?

RADA’s own Richard Stirling takes to the stage much as we are told Jeeves shimmers into any given room. We are about to watch a powerhouse deliver a masterclass in acting up close and personal, and I am thanking my lucky stars that the ultra-Fringey compactness of Greenside’s Ivy Studio on George Street gives me a front row seat, knee to knee with someone doing something so marvellous. Here is a deep study in shallowness as the clock Marks 8:36.

Stirling (forever THE Boko Fittleworth in THE definitive Wodehouse adaptation) is the celebrated author of Julie Andrews: An Intimate Biography as well as the playwright who penned A Princess Undone – the no holds barred account of one night in 1993 in the life of Princess Margaret. On reflection, Mandy seems like a rather appropriate addition to Stirling’s collection of biographical trophies – mounted on a bit too much tech, but stuffed with fine details that make this an authentic, lively, and blisteringly warts and all piece of theatrical portraiture – more genteel unflinching Gerald Scarfe than grotesque unrepentant James Gilray.

The format is largely linear, and it has to be to carry the weight of career detail, rival personalities and, of course, the sordid horror of the horrible revelations about Mandelson’s relationship with a convicted child rapist. Stirling, the actor, shifts seamlessly in the blink of an eye from his Dark Prince charmless to the affably unBrownian “call me Tony” of pre-Iraq days. Although the archival video footage projected behind is occasionally clunky, the use of actual newspaper front-page splashes from the dawn to the dusk of Mandelson’s public stage strutting amplifies the underlying message that the media ground beneath Mandelson’s feet was utterly transformed during the strange career of the self-styled Third Man – the camp TV Michael Reenie version, not the Orson Welles spiv monster who profited by doctoring children’s medicine.

A ton of research has gone into this magpie’s nest of a show. So has the honed and practised craft of an actor whose obvious natural talent has been sharpened into a sabre, one wielded with the precision of a scalpel from walk to full gallop. When the final penultimate chapter of Mandelson, and perhaps of the party he once mismanaged, has been written in the ballots of our next general election, I suspect that this script and its performance will have predicted much.

Come for the acting out of a political life that cannot help but be of interest to historians of the modern era (surely new error). Stay for the sake of one of our finest character actors doing his thang bloody chuffing well. DON’T get your donkey jackets on but do come see this!


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‘Crooked Shadows’ (Greenside @ George Street: Jade Studio, until AUG 29)

“A GRANDMOTHER’S BRAVE SPIRIT; A GRANDDAUGHTER’S BOLD VOICE”

Editorial Rating: 3 Stars (Nae Bad)

This one-woman show, written and performed by New Jersey-based Shawneen Rowe, first saw the light of day three years ago in New York. Using a poignant mixture of live action, video imagery, and projected family photos, Rowe tells the often heartbreaking story of an Italian-American upbringing focused around her Grandma Rosa: one of those great matriarchal figures who battle to hold homes and families together with graceful and righteous strength, whatever life throws at them.

Via the bold voice of her granddaughter, the tale of her grandmother’s relentlessly brave spirit is told in a series of vignettes recalling the tears and the laughter of life in a lively Italian household. In piecing together the life of a woman who survived abuse and the sudden disappearance of her father, we are drawn in to relish in the triumph of Rosa’s spirit as she passes her story down to her granddaughter.

Despite the perhaps sinister-sounding title, this is ultimately an uplifting story: the telling and re-telling of sometimes dark family secrets can drag them into the light to illuminate our histories and unite generations by confronting the mysterious past. The struggles of our ancestors can give shape and bring deeper understanding to our own lives.

Rowe is a seasoned actress and theatre-maker who looks the audience squarely in the eye and tells her story simply, with a single suitcase of props and costume to enable shifts between the roles of narrator, grandmother and daughter, as well as a houseful of male and female Italian relatives.

The only downside of the performance I saw was a ridiculously loud fan in the black box auditorium of the Jade Studio. The recent heatwaves have necessitated air conditioning of some sort in theatres, but this racket made some of the quieter moments in Rowe’s monologue inaudible. This show is well worth seeing, but keep your fingers crossed for cooler evenings, a little more projection from Ms Rowe, or a drop of oil for that fan.

 


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‘Lear’s Fool’ (Greenside @ George Street, Lime Studio, until AUG 22)

“An engaging tragicomedy in the Stoppardesque spin-off manner, offering stark juxtapositions of comedy and terror, despair and song, political polemic and renaissance stand-up comedy, in a lively romp of a show.”

Editorial Rating: 4 Stars (Nae Bad)

Way back in 1966, the Edinburgh Fringe saw the premiere of Tom Stoppard’s tragicomedy Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, which famously highlights and follows the two eponymous minor characters from Shakespeare’s Hamlet, once they disappear from the main action of the play.

Here, in Lear’s Fool, we see similar treatment of the Fool, the court jester from King Lear, who exits and disappears about halfway through Shakespeare’s other great tragedy. This new production of David Henry Wilson’s play is directed by Liz Carruthers. It is an engaging tragicomedy in the Stoppardesque spin-off manner, offering stark juxtapositions of comedy and terror, despair and song, political polemic and renaissance stand-up comedy in a lively romp of a show.

Even if you don’t know Shakespeare’s original work, this production offers an entertaining and often heart-breaking show which can be enjoyed on its own terms. Set in a prison cell near Dover, the Fool’s treatment and interrogation by a jailer and his captain reflect the hierarchical values of a bygone age whilst also offering contemporary takes on the futility of war, the self-interest and corruption of politics, and the stranglehold of the social class system that will ring true to modern ears.

Wilson’s writing reworks well-known Shakespearian quotes from the original play to give fresh and often ironic meaning within the play’s postmodern context. The eponymous Fool, played with aplomb by Jill Riddford (a two-time Scottish Theatre Critics Award nominee), is still the mischievous joker from the parent play, but her excruciating puns mask a soul that is devastated by continuing news of her old master’s madness and downfall as the action of the source drama unfolds offstage.

Shakespearean humour is notoriously dated and hasn’t aged at all well, but Riddiford’s occasional delivery of some lines stand-up style direct to the audience, rather than other characters, made them laugh out loud.

King Lear and Lear’s Fool overlap with each other at the end when Lear (Finlay McLean) and his faithful daughter Cordelia (Kirsty McDuff) make a striking Shakespearian intervention into the postmodern world of the play. Sam Stopford (another Scottish Critics Award nominee) is an engagingly cynical and mercenary jailer, whilst John Kay Steel’s sinister portrayal of the ruthless Captain surely puts him in the running for casting as a Bond villain once they’ve got a new 007.

Whilst not actual Shakespeare, this show makes a welcome addition to the small body of the Bard’s works featuring in this year’s Fringe, so it’s well worth a look.

 


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‘Lydia Bennett Works In Finance’ (Ivy Studio in Greenside @ George Street, until AUG 23 – not AUG 10 or 17)

“Laugh-out-loud lines such as ‘He couldn’t find my clit if he used a flashlight and a bloodhound!’ are an indicator that this play is not suitable for GCSE revision. “

Editorial Rating: 5 Stars (Outstanding)

Fans of classic fiction will recognise the name of the eponymous heroine of this acerbically funny comedy as the youngest of the five sisters in Jane Austen’s masterpiece Pride and Prejudice. In this sassily updated reinvention, writer and performer Trelawny Kean presents us with a feisty present-day version of Lydia as a high-maintenance drama queen who finds herself homeless and unemployed after walking out on George Wickham.

In the source novel, Lydia is described as “silly, vain, and absolutely uncontrolled” as well as “wild, noisy and fearless”. The modern Lydia presented by Kean is very much in this mould, but don’t worry if you’re not familiar with the book. The pacy style of the show could be described as something along the lines of Jane Austen meets Bridget Jones and is very enjoyable on its own terms as a comic account of the life of a modern girl who always seems to be a footnote in someone else’s love story.

The second half of the show’s title helps to emphasise the production’s contemporary vibe by echoing the song (I’m Looking For A) Man In Finance by Girl On A Couch (Megan Boni) which was a viral TikTok hit in summer 2024. An engaging juxtaposition of past and present is loudly evoked as Lydia in 2024 plays the song on her phone and Kean energetically gyrates to the amplified beat; the modern lyrics reflecting Austen’s 200 year-old concerns about single women who complain about their relationship status whilst having unrealistic expectations of men.

Performed single-handedly with two giant suitcases and their contents as set, props, and costume, Kean makes ideal casting for a one-woman show in the intimate black-box Ivy Studio in Greenside @ George Street. Seen at close quarters, her comically mobile face vividly conveys expressions ranging from manic frustration to Machiavellian cunning as the needy Lydia attempts to manipulate family and friends via her ever-present mobile phone.

There are laughs a-plenty in the dialogue, though it’s worth noting that the age guideline is 16+. Laugh-out-loud lines such as “He couldn’t find my clit if he used a flashlight and a bloodhound!” are an indicator that this play is not suitable for GCSE revision.

This is an absolute gem of a show that will be running for most of this month, but seating in this small studio venue is limited, so book early.

 


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‘A Montage of Monet’ (Venue 236, Aug 9-10, 12-17)

“An aged-up Stephen Smith plays the eponymous artist with all the power and emphasis that can be mustered by a younger actor playing an old man.”

Editorial Rating: 4 Stars (Nae Bad)

This is a very engaging and thoughtful show presenting the life, loves, and art of the legendary French impressionist painter, Claude Monet. As we are shown, the great artist’s private life was certainly full enough of drama, crisis, and angst to justify a play. This production, a piece of well-crafted new writing by Joan Greening, takes us on a journey to Belle Epoque Paris and beyond, offering much entertaining insight into the bohemian world of these creative types whilst shattering a few myths about what drives their urge to paint.

The small, black box Mint Studio of Greenside @ George Street is simply transformed into the artist’s world by means of a few props and we see Monet’s instantly recognisable works projected onto a blank canvas standing on an easel. An aged-up Stephen Smith plays the eponymous artist with all the power and emphasis that can be mustered by a younger actor playing an old man. Two characteristics of this production give it a very intimate feel. The lighting is deliberately kept fairly low – much at odds with the bursting colour of Monet’s canvases, but subtly encouraging introspective focus on the man himself. Secondly, the monologue is quietly underscored by original piano music by Joseph Furey playing in the background. I’m not usually a fan of incidental music in theatre, but this gently melodic accompaniment adds a wistful backdrop to Monet’s tale.

The human story behind the legendary paintings is often fascinating and revealing. Monet was no saint: an aesthete, but no angel. The roller coaster of his love life often belies the tranquillity evoked by his art. His relationships with fellow artists were often complex, whilst catastrophic events in his own life often threatened his very ability to create his works. Spiced with moments of humour and wit, there are also many surprising revelations concerning the stories behind some of his most celebrated images. No spoilers here, but I’ll never look at his famous Water Lilies paintings in the same way again, having been told how the subject matter in his garden pond at Giverny was so beautifully arranged. There was even a word of warning for us critics in learning how the name of the genre Impressionism arose from some laboured mockery by an infamous and now largely forgotten journalist.

Of the many solo shows on offer at the Fringe, a number are always biographical dramatisations of some historical person’s life: often a literary or show business figure, or more rarely, an artist. The problems inherent in representing an artist’s life on stage include: the sedentary nature of their work; talented individuals leading often dull and uneventful private lives; and the difficulty of making drama from the creation of still-life in the shape of a canvas or sculpture. In a different show I saw earlier this week, we watched an actor physically recreate a painting brush-in-hand as she spoke to the audience in character as the artist in question; very talented and skilled, but not great theatre and more suited to the radio. This production does not make the same mistake and is thus well worth going along to see.


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Jess Carrivick: Attention Seeker (WIP) at Venue 236 until 24th AUG (not 11th or 18th)

“…a must-see for anyone who loves comedy; it would also serve as a masterclass for those who hope to bring a one-hander show to the Fringe.”

Editorial Rating: 5 Stars (Outstanding)

Regular readers of this site will know that I’ve got a bit of a thing about solo shows this year. They’ve been one of the mainstays of the Fringe for decades (especially one-woman shows) and are becoming a genre all of their own. The quality of such shows can be highly variable, but this one is the best I’ve seen this summer by a country mile.

Jess Carrivick is a self-confessed “almost” ex-child TV star nepo baby and in this show she tells the story of her life. In a whirlwind of character vignettes, multiple costume changes, bits, skits, and sketches, she whisks us on an absurdist journey which showreels her first ten years that peaked with BBC TV sitcom stardom in the noughties. Apart from one genuinely tearful episode this is a laugh-a-minute romp, see-sawing between hilarious observations on the mundanity of post-fame life and peeks behind the barbed wire curtain of celebrity telly.

As both performer and writer (2021 BAFTA Rockcliffe shortlist), Carrivick pulls off a tour de force in the small black-box Mint Studio, part of the Greenside @ George Street venue. An experienced improv and sketch comedienne, she’s one of those confident and engaging performers it’s impossible not to like. In several silent routines, she has the audience in stitches of laughter with her range of facial expressions and stares that speak a thousand words. A brilliant caricaturist, she evokes a number of showbiz and “civilian” stereotypes with mercilessly effective style and aplomb; regularly complemented by her own deprecating self-criticism. In some gently merciful and non-embarrassing audience participation, she effectively gives a little stage skill coaching to those punters keen to join in the fun. A skilled performer to her fingertips, Carrivick even manages to entertain whilst getting changed behind her costume rail.

At 45 minutes, this is an ideal piece of quickfire entertainment to squeeze in between other shows as you sample the delights of George Street. It’s a must-see for anyone who loves comedy; it would also serve as a masterclass for those who hope to bring a solo show to the Fringe.


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‘Abbey’s Box’ (Venue 236, until AUG 26th)

“Abbey Glover presents an up close and personal performance well suited to the intimacy of the Sprout Theatre”

Editorial Rating: 4 Stars (Nae Bad)

When trawling through the Fringe catalogue seeking interesting-looking theatre, it’s always a good idea to keep an eye out for what’s going on in some of the smaller venues. It’s in the nature of fringe drama that there are a lot of solo shows to choose from, but every now and again you stumble across the odd small gem hidden away in a small room in a large old building just off one of Edinburgh’s main thoroughfares.

Abbey’s Box is just such a gem: a one-woman show performed in a small black box studio theatre. This wryly humorous drama tells the first-person story of a young woman’s life from childhood, through school, to her first love affair. Abbey is a quirky, charming, introspective girl with big dreams who wants to love and be loved. Whilst not a laugh-out-loud comedy, the way in which the episodes of her life are enacted in this show raise many a chuckle of recognition, of sympathy, and of embarrassed familiarity from the audience. Using an engaging mixture of physical drama and storytelling, Abbey Glover presents an up close and personal performance well suited to the intimacy of the Sprout Theatre, one of the smaller venues in Greenside at Infirmary Street. As a 64 year-old man, I often found myself spellbound by her revelations concerning the (to me) hitherto mysterious workings of the female psyche during relationships, not only concerning what she was thinking, but her intuition about what he thought of her. The sympathetic reactions from the women in the audience suggested I was onto something here!

Abbey shows us the intimate details of her relationship with a young man, from an awkward first date as teenagers at a high school prom, through their developing life together in California and Vermont, to their first maladroit attempts at sex. There is much insightful observation of the private, unspoken expectations that lovers have of each other; wryly articulated aloud here to reveal the underlying absurdity of love – which does, indeed, as someone once said, make fools of us all. And the eponymous box? A metaphor, of course, for Abbey’s hang-ups, foibles, fears, and introspection. But, this being Fringe theatre, there is an actual box which has a supporting role, not as a character, but as a well-manipulated extension of the protagonist’s persona.

In a meta-theatrical moment, Abbey breaks the fourth wall to self-referentially mock herself using the familiar accusation that one-woman shows are really a form of therapy for the performer. I don’t know how much of this show was based on Abbey Glover’s actual life, but by the end I – along with the rest of the audience – strongly applauded the slice of life that we’d just been treated to. The late afternoon show runs until 26th August, so get your coats on and go see it! Go for the box – there really is one! Stay for the quirky insights into the female psyche. Leave armed with a few new ideas concerning what your partner might be thinking about you.

 


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Definition of Man (Greenside @ Infirmary Street: 3-25 Aug: 11:25: 60 mins)

“Powerful and emotive”

Editorial Rating: 3 Stars: Nae Bad

Two performers enter the space, wearing rags and looking dishevelled. It appears they have been alone in a post-apocalyptic wasteland for some time – though for how long doesn’t seem important. What follows is a journey of how two people might survive (purely from a psychological perspective) in this situation.

Definition of Man is created by performers Jason Rosario and Nikki Muller, and could crudely be described as part Waiting for Godot, part DV8 physical theatre piece. After the initial wasteland scene, the performance darts back and forth between mini lectures about chemicals within the brain, personalised accounts of growing up as the child of an immigrant or ‘other’ in the USA, and much more besides. The level of detail in each section demonstrates impressive research and creativity, though comprehension is the main sticking point.

To begin with, there’s a bizarre jarring between the words in the script and the action on stage: the upbeat voices and physicality of the performers seem at odds with the sense of desperate survival implied by the words they say. Then the whistle-stop tour through all the other elements makes it hard to decipher just what, when, and who this show is about.

Only in the second half of the piece do the threads start to come together, and the crux of the relationship between the two characters comes to the forefront – just what happens to two lovers when they are left alone in the world for an inordinate amount of time? The final moments between Muller and Rosario are a powerful and emotive interpretation of this, though it’s a shame this depth comes so late on.

The action is punctuated throughout by some genuinely impressive lifts, balances and counter-tensions, which are an effective way to highlight apparent changes in power and focus between each character, and the emotions at play. When combined with colour design and subtle sound-scaping, moments within this performance really do shine.

To me, though, it feels like there are almost too many themes and ideas crammed into this piece, diluting what could be a compelling discussion into and presentation of the relationship between two people in an extreme environment. With so many different strands, it’s really difficult to get into and connect with the performance and work out what it is and where it’s going.

Overall, Definition of Man is an interesting and intense production that certainly gets the cogs whirring, but unfortunately, for me, it’s all a bit too confused and busy to have the impact it has the potential for.

 

nae bad_blue

Star (blue)Star (blue)Star (blue)

Reviewer: Steve Griffin (Seen 9 August)

THIS REVIEW HAS NOT BEEN SUBEDITED