Tag Archives: Performance Poetry

+3 Review: Growing Pains (Underbelly, Cowgate: 5-28 Aug: 16.30: 1hr)

Posted in 5*, EdFestivals 2016, Musical Theatre, Theatre, Underbelly by

“Oozes a quality that is rare and valuable”

Editorial Rating: 5 Stars

There’s a lovely tradition at the Fringe whereby all companies performing at a certain venue are permitted “standby” tickets to other shows at that venue: once all paying ticket holders have been admitted, any empty seats are then up for grabs – if there are any. For this performance Underbelly companies didn’t just fill the few empty seats: staff were frantically laying out two extra rows at the back to cope with a level of demand I’ve never seen before. Within about 10 seconds of the performance starting, I could understand the hype.

As is so achingly trendy at the moment, Growing Pains is written like a performance poem, with rhyme and rhythm, ridiculously clever wordplay, and a lot of witticism. It’s brutal, honest and unflinching in its portrayal of a young man growing up on an estate in Salford and wanting to make it as an actor. Energy is red raw from the get go and you can tell this is going to be an intense and emotional hour.

Central character Tom introduces his friends, portraying each with clear physicality and accent, and we get to laugh at their banter and endeavours to get served at the local pub while underage. Later on we see those same friends grown-up, stuck in a rut and stifled in small-town mentality that Tom so desperately longs to break away from.

Tom Gill gives absolutely everything in this production – from emotive, heart-wrenching pleas to his dad, amusing turns as his Caribbean neighbour and a posture-perfect well-heeled yuppie, to more puns on London tube stations than you can count and a stripped back and haunting break-up scene with an ex-girlfriend: it really is a one man tour-de-force. For me, it’s 2016’s Johnny Bevan.

Oh, and it’s also a musical. With poetic lyricism that effortlessly floats in and out of song it only seems right to blend the two, and it just works. Not in a corny, musical theatre I’m-just-going-to-burst-into-song kind of way, but in a genuine expression of music being the only way for Tom to be able to communicate what’s going on in his head. It’s funny. moving, and incredibly well performed.

However, it’s not perfect – there are several odd little skips, jumps and glossings over within the narrative that could be made clearer or more cleverly interwoven without the need to go to a blackout – but everything about it oozes a quality that is rare and valuable and definitely worth buying a ticket to. Just ask anyone else doing a show at Underbelly.

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

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Reviewer: Steve Griffin (Seen 8 August)

THIS REVIEW HAS NOT BEEN SUBEDITED

Learning to Live (Espionage, Pravda room, 24 – 30 Aug : 19:45 : 1hr)

Posted in 4*, EdFestivals 2015, Other, Spoken Word by

“The craft of every word is excellent, the delivery spot on”

Editorial Rating: 4 Stars

Learning to Live by Isla Cowan is a collection of poems from a young woman who shares her journey of moving to university, the search for a new identity and the struggle to connect with old friends after time apart. The showcase also includes an honest and unglossed ode to a parent, a poem about poverty and a poem called Shakespeare in the sunshine – certainly not a combination one comes across every day.

Cowan’s opening poem is The Night We Went to Life – a reflection on those nights spent clubbing and not being entirely sure why. This is a piece with great rhythm and musicality, with comic moments and a story that all of us can relate to. Next up, The Library is slower and more contemplative, showing great maturity and sense of perspective. Every poem in this show is full of fantastic imagery and a sense of a captured moment, but the last in the set is one called Memories, in which she utters the inimitable line “I am nothing but memories”. To me this summed up the overall ethos of the performance – a collection of lessons learned, delivered simply and beautifully.

My favourite poem from the collection performed was The Lightbulb, which to me demonstrated an accessible and educated view on mental turmoil through clever use of metaphor. Indeed, when Cowan does use metaphor throughout her work, it’s both selective and effective. Great examples include the idea of being “between dinner and dreamland” after a night and morning with that special someone, and carrying “worries in a basket” along with the rest of one’s shopping. Though the subject matter of her work is relatively simple, there’s a lovely feel about it all that reflects her coming of age, but without trying to be too pretentious or flamboyant.

The craft of every word in Cowan’s poetry is excellent, and the delivery of her work is also spot on. She clearly knows the pieces inside out, and captures every rise and fall, rhyme and pause with precision. The tone of her voice carries perfect sympathy with the subject matter of each line, and the whole show just felt very natural and comfortable.

If I were to be really picky, I felt that some of the poems ended quite abruptly, causing the odd jar in what was otherwise a very smooth and enjoyable evening. I’d also like to see her take a few more risks, both in terms of style and content, but perhaps that’s one for next year, as, for a debut show for a novice performer of tender age this really was cracking stuff.

 

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

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Reviewer: Steve Griffin (Seen 27 August)

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THIS REVIEW HAS NOT BEEN SUBEDITED

What I learned from Johnny Bevan (Summerhall, 7 – 30 Aug : 16.55 : 1hr)

Posted in 5*, EdFestivals 2015, Summerhall, Theatre by

“A simple story, powerfully written, mesmerisingly performed”

Editorial Rating: 5 Stars: Outstanding

Sometimes I feel I should just give up. I see a show like this that makes me think theatre can’t get any better, so why should I bother going to see anything else? This absolute gem of a show, performed in a tucked away little room at an old veterinary college, is exactly why I keep coming back.

The story follows Nick, a young man from a wealthy background, who is desperate to shake off his family shackles and cultural expectations and discover his own identity at university. There he meets Johnny Bevan – the intelligent, bohemian philosopher from a council estate who opens up that new world Nick has been looking for. And while their initial connection is electric, years later when the two meet again, can Nick save Johnny from the tortured soul he’s become, or does Nick actually need saving from his consumerist lifestyle as a writer in London?

The writing of this piece is some of the best I have ever come across. Part poem, part epic monologue, it oozes style and professionalism, while sounding completely natural when performed. The story arch is perfectly framed, and never once feels indulgent or rushed. Every word is carefully selected to portray character and develop the story, with rhythm and selected rhyming that make it very easy to connect with. My favourite line was when Nick described going to meet Johnny “over lentil-based cuisine”, while some of the digs and views on modern society are captured with terrifying accuracy and wit.

The writing would mean very little, however, were it not for the incredibly emotive and gutsy performance from Luke Wright. He captures Nick’s naive early years, his coming-of-age at university with Johnny, and perhaps most mesmerisingly of all, his look back at the those touching moments and unhappiness with who he has become. Throughout the piece he talks directly to the audience, often very up close, which really engages and brings a sense of honesty to the piece. At select moments he looks back the the projected backdrop in reflection or shame, while his physicality captures every nuance of the characters and situations being presented. It is a truly masterful performance.

The technical aspects of the show are simple, but perfectly sympathetic with the script and style with which it is performed. Hand drawn images projected onto the backdrop show the setting of each scene, while subtle changes in lighting accentuate the mood perfectly. Anything more would detract from the piece’s overall power.

This is a simple story that is powerfully written and mesmerisingly performed – I cannot recommend it highly enough.

 

outstanding

StarStarStarStarStar

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Reviewer: Steve Griffin (Seen 15 August)

Visit the Summerhall  archive.

THIS REVIEW HAS NOT BEEN SUBEDITED

Poetry Can F*ck Off (Summerhall, 14 – 22 Aug : 15.30 : 55 mins)

Posted in 2*, EdFestivals 2015, Spoken Word, Summerhall by

“The idea and thinking behind this piece is great”

Editorial Rating: 2 Stars

Possibly the most ironic title of the Fringe this year, this show is, in essence, a very one-sided performance essay about exactly why poetry shouldn’t “f*ck off”. I use the word “essay” deliberately, as it is scripted very much like one, making statements about the power of poetry, giving quotes from poems in different times and cultures to back these up, and assessing the impact these poets and their readers have made in each instance.

While the idea is commendable and shows a lot of well thought-out research, as a performance it didn’t really work. The piece was delivered incredibly quickly and it was difficult to keep up with all the different examples that they all became lost in one another, while I spent the whole show waiting for a counter-argument to balance out the very liberal and pro-poetry point of view.

However, what I found most irritating about this performance was the very overused technique of repetition to emphasise a specific point. It seemed that almost every thirty seconds one actor would say a line, only to have the others repeat the last few words like some sort of robotic echo, or for three performers to simply repeat the line three times. It got very tired very quickly, while at some points it also got a bit shouty, contradicting the notion of this being an intelligent and mature piece.

With four performers on stage doing the “reading”, an additional musician was used to add rhythm and dynamic to the performance throughout. The playing was impressive, and kept the piece moving with variations in mood according to specific anecdotes. However, the music did little to alleviate the sense of non-stop pounding this show delivered, as there wasn’t enough variation in tempo or dynamic to break the monotony of delivery.

In saying all that, I admit I may have missed the point somewhere along the line, and this piece’s intentional styling may be a metaphor for a bigger message. Overall I think the idea and thinking behind this piece is great, but the form and delivery of it leave a lot to be desired – it seemed so wrapped up in making a statement that it neglected a lot of the basics of good performance.

 

Star (blue)Star (blue)

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Reviewer: Steve Griffin (Seen 15 August)

Visit the Summerhall archive.

THIS REVIEW HAS NOT BEEN SUBEDITED

TES (Underbelly, George Square : 5 – 31 Aug : 13.15 : 1hr 15 mins)

Posted in 4*, EdFestivals 2015, Spoken Word, Theatre, Underbelly by

“Fantastic… exactly what the Fringe is all about.”

Editorial Rating: 4 Stars

Tess of the D’urbervilles reimagined in modern times. With a male hero. Set on a Newcastle council estate. Performed by one person. Oh, and it’s performance poetry. What could possibly go wrong?

You’ve got to take your hat off to writer and performer Steve Larkin just for the idea. It sounds daft, but TES is actually a very compelling story, that interprets enough of the original to make it easy to follow, but without going overboard by trying to shoehorn in every last detail. It’s stylish, it’s quirky, and the issues covered are bang up to date for an audience in 2015.

The show follows the story of Joe Taggart, who, we find out, is a descendent of Lord Byron. As part of a special programme in his school (he’s 14 when the show starts), he gets assigned a new English teacher, the alluring Alice Prycer-Fox, who encourages him to write poetry. However, after a dramatic liaison with her, he finds himself in prison and years later is having to rebuild his life as “Terry” in Leeds. We see Terry’s rise in fortune as a performance poet, and how he develops a relationship with a girl he meets at a recruitment agency. Of course, as this is a Hardy adaptation there are more twists and turns, and an unfortunate ending, but it’s a gripping story and deftly delivered.

It’s written with a real sense of rhythm, and its poetic nature (though not overt) gives it a sense of being a fairytale and having a moral tale. Indeed, many cultural quips and comments on consumerist society are well-placed and go to show the level of intelligence and care with which this piece is constructed.

While the writing is powerful, one of the real strengths of this show is Larkin’s energy as a performer, and his ability to jump between characters and create moods and tension very quickly. He excels further in the sections where, as Terry, he performs his original performance poetry, even getting the audience involved to chant along some lines with him. Larkin is in his element in these sections and commands the stage and the audience’s attention.

My only criticism was that it seemed a little rough around the edges – there could have been starker contrasts between some of the characters, while I also would have liked a slightly more impactful climax. Overall though, a fantastic risk-taking offering, and to me this kind of show is exactly what the Fringe is all about.

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

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Reviewer: Steve Griffin (Seen 15 August)

THIS REVIEW HAS NOT BEEN SUBEDITED