Seann Walsh

After being tabloid fodder for a fortnight in 2018, Seann Walsh is finally getting back to producing his own brand of acerbic observational comedy. With his new show, he tells Jay Richardson that it’s time we knew more about the man who made him

HAPPY TALK

‘O h god, here we go. Oh, don’t come up to me. I’m not the guy you come to for help. I make things worse! That’s my speciality.’ Seann Walsh is channelling his inner monologue during a recent interaction with a stranger on the London Underground. Yet it perfectly distils his socially anxious, self-flagellating persona. ‘Then she said, “does this go to South Kensington?”

He smiles. ‘And the sheer relief to just think “I know this” and confidently say “absolutely not”. She said “thank you”, jumped off and it felt fantastic. The Tube then moved away and four people said to me, “it does”.’ Affectionately introduced to television commissioners as a ‘fack up! Facking look at him!’ by his late, indelicate former agent Addison Cresswell, Walsh has endured almost four years in the stocks of public opprobrium, after he was caught kissing his Strictly Come Dancing partner Katya Jones while in a long-term relationship with the actor Rebecca Humphries.

On the front page of a tabloid newspaper for 12 consecutive days, the 36-year-old has since had treatment for anxiety and depression and says he won’t be reading Humphries’ recently published book on the saga, in which she alleges he was psychologically controlling.

With the benefit of hindsight though, it seems inconceivable that he was going to enter A-list stardom like, say, Joel Dommett, after his primetime light entertainment exposure. And Walsh has arguably emerged from the fire of trial-bymedia a better and more interesting comic. His What’s Upset You Now? podcast with fellow comic Paul McCaffrey is a hit and he’s thrown himself into self-made content, including indie films and sitcom pilots with Harry Enfield and Miles Jupp’s regular collaborator James Kettle. Most strikingly though, he’s the most high-profile UK comic to release a stand-up special on YouTube, the undeniably brilliant and raw Kiss, in which he reflects upon the Strictly fallout and how he became a comedian. Bill Bailey and Kathy Burke were among its most outspoken admirers, helping to propel it to more than 100,000 views since March. ‘Obviously, I love Bill like everyone else. But I’ve never met Kathy so I was genuinely chuffed that they shared it with their followers.’

One of Kiss’ highlights is the hitherto unseen portrayal it offers of the gifted mimic’s roistering, rollicking Irish father, an influence on his belated sobriety, love of QPR, and source of his playground response to a boy bragging about his father’s two toolboxes: ‘so what? My dad’s got two teeth!’

The comic’s latest Fringe hour, Seann Walsh: Is Dead. Happy Now?, leaves the events of Strictly behind, but Walsh Sr will return. ‘You’ve got this very funny man who was responsible for bringing me up. And people loved my dad in that show. I just thought I would share a bit more so you can kind of understand maybe why I am the way I am. It gets a big laugh because it’s so obvious when I talk about my childhood. You go “oh right, yeah. I get this now”.’

After consulting three comics he admires (Jupp, Jo Caulfield and Stewart Lee), he’s playing The Stand at the Festival for the first time in his nine solo shows, with the plum 10pm slot. ‘If Stewart Lee is telling you to do something in stand-up, I think you do it. I’m scared I might have said this before, but this is the first time I want to do it. I’ve never enjoyed Edinburgh; I’ve never felt like an Edinburgh comic. I thought, “you love performing, you love stand-up. But if you go up doing what you’ve always done, you’re gonna hate it again.” It’s that Einstein quote isn’t it? Doing the same thing and expecting different results is madness.’

Shortly after, Walsh bids me good day and signs off by imploring, as he often does with journalists, ‘please try to make me not look like a cunt’.

Seann Walsh: Is Dead. Happy Now?, The Stand, 3–28 August, 10pm.

He zombies out when shit gets real ” Liam Williams, Al Roberts and Daran ‘Jonno’ Johnson have been flocked together as sketch group Sheeps for a decade. Or maybe it’s a little bit more. No one is quite sure. Here, they reminisce about their favourite memory of one another in a rollicking journey (three pages long) that takes in moon pilots, death stools and iconoclastic heckling

AL ROBERTS

My favourite Liam memory My favourite Liam memory was when he performed a song Jonno and I had written for him called ‘I Wish I Was As Funny As My Friends’. The gig had gone badly, the song was eight minutes long. It had no jokes in it and Liam can’t sing for shit. But he gave it everything. He bared his soul. Only for no one to clap at the end. No one clapped. At the end of a song. OK, there were like ten people in, but they were all close friends, experienced sketch performers themselves. They couldn’t bring themselves to clap. Harrowing stuff. But it wasn’t Liam’s fault; it was ours. Liam, my friend, I’m sorry.

My favourite Jonno memory My favourite memory of Jonno was his performance in the sketch ‘Moon Pilot’ where he played an airline pilot (Mr Moon) who loves the moon so much he wants to fly his planes there. If that’s not a strong premise, I don’t know what is. Sadly, the audience didn’t care for it (we only performed it once) but I still think it was brilliant, and that Jonno was in the form of his life: ‘ladies and gentlemen, the destination of this flight has changed . . . to the moooooooon!’ You’re not laughing at that?! You really don’t find that funny? Sometimes, all you can do is despair. For the sake of balance, I should say that I’ve played many failed cut-after-one-performance characters myself, including, but not limited to, Banter Boy, Christmas Cop, Steely Dan God, Spice Man, Mark Horse and Mr Hot Yellow Trombone.

LIAM WILLIAMS

My favourite Al memory My favourite Al memory would be the time I nearly accidentally killed him during an extravagant piece of physical improv at a gig in Shepherd’s Bush circa 2014. Al was lying on the floor dead (most of our sketches from that time seemed to end along those lines) and I was lamenting his character’s death. I lamented so passionately that the immensely heavy bar stool I’d been sitting on went crashing towards my colleague’s skull, landing perhaps an inch away. What I thought was so great about Al in that moment was the way he had stayed completely still during his mimed death and therefore avoided a potentially fatal blow to the head for which I would have borne considerable legal responsibility. I’ll always look back with gratitude and good humour at that moment. Thanks Al!

My favourite Jonno memory My favourite memory of Jonno is the moment just before he told me I had only half completed this writing task for The List. When I read the email initially, I thought I only had to write about my favourite memory of Al and had been pleased to email that and move on with my life. But over lunch that day, Jonno pointed out that I hadn’t read the email properly and needed to write about a memory of him too, and in that moment my feelings about him changed. Subtly, yes, and not in any way that I can really blame him for but nonetheless there was a sense, in that moment, of a lost innocence, a lamentation for a simpler dynamic to our friendship, one not burdened by the prospect of yet more toil.

JONNO

My favourite Liam memory My favourite memory of both Al and Liam is my first. Liam and I actually met in Edinburgh. We were queueing up for Joke-O And The Bloke-O at the Navy Rooms on High Heesh (one of many Fringe venues to come and sadly go over the years). We said ‘hi’ and we talked about the group. I was only aware of The Bloke-O from those old Chef & Kipper cartoons but I actually personally knew Joke-O a bit cos he worked the fanboats with my uncles in the 70s. But I think it was the first year that they did their two-hander thing (should’ve been the last but here’s another story for another The List).

Anyway, soon as they come on stage, almost immediately, Liam just lets them have it. I mean this guy’s really tearing them a new one. And all the audience are turning on Liam saying, ‘shut up!’ and whatever. But I’m cracking up. I’m losing it. Stick a fork in me, y’know? I mean this guy is giving them both barrels. They cannot do their show. And the fucked-up part is that a lot of his shit is actually funnier than their shit. About halfway through their first sketch, I’m so done with these guys I shout over to Liam. I say, ‘know what’s in my crystal ball, buddy? Me and you and a couple of cold ones’ and Liam shouts a couple more nasty things at the boys and out we go into a bold new friendship. And a heckuva lotta cash.

My favourite Al memory One year later, Liam and I are up doing our own show. And Al is in the audience. Well, as soon as we get on stage, this guy really lets us have it. I mean this guy tears us a new one. We’re up there trying to do this show (we’re both dressed as Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and we’ve got hair on top that looks like Marge Simpson) and from the audience this guy is giving us both barrels. ‘You guys got big hair!’ he’s shouting. ‘What are you, the Turtles?!’ And the audience is just dying laughing; I mean they all look insane. He’s literally just describing what he sees and the audience are lapping it up.

So me and Liam (and he has no memory of this because he zombies out when shit gets real), we turn our backs to the audience and we have the first of our many little conferences. And I’m saying, ‘hey, there’s only one way outta this one, padre; we gotta get this guy on OUR team.’ And Liam gives me one of his Cheshire Cat grins and he nods like the Churchill Dog. He is a cat and a dog in this moment, you understand. And so we turn back around and we point at Al. And now we’re screaming, ‘get up here you!’ Well, the moment he gets on stage, Al starts screaming (so we’re all three screaming now, you understand). He’s going, ‘I’m home! I’m home!’ And we all hug (but not for long) and we all kiss (but not for long) and the rest is the future. (I struggle to be earnest sometimes, but I love both of my friends very much and could not be more excited to do the Fringe again, so I thank you for reading this drivel. The real answer to both of these questions is just the first time we did our show in 2018 because I wasn’t sure we’d ever do it again after 2014 and being up there with my friends after a few years off felt something like a miracle.)

Sheeps: Ten Years, Ten Laughs, Pleasance Courtyard, 4–14 August, 7pm.

Al, Liam and Jonno try to remember something about one another

THE BEST NIGHTS OUT ARE ON DICE

COMEDY If it’s not inclusive, you can’t call it the “ best arts festival in the world ”

Having spent lockdown living in the woods, Australian comic Laura Davis has finally returned to comedy stages. She tells Jay Richardson that it’s good to be back but reckons the Festival needs to buck up its ideas

COMEDY ‘If someone’s trying to control the way people think and has fascist or neo-fascist leanings, the arts is always the thing they come for first,’ Laura Davis maintains. ‘And that’s bad enough. But when that gets internalised by artists themselves, when they start feeling the arts is a silly thing, that they should go out and get a real job; or there’s a war on and all this seems ridiculous, that’s when we’re in real trouble.’

The idea that Davis, the Australian stand-up who cemented her reputation at the Edinburgh Fringe as a daring, innovative comic with her 2018 show Ghost Machine (in which she appeared as a phantom, wearing a bed sheet and fairy lights) might be reluctant to embrace the ridiculous, seems incredible. But underappreciation of artists has been a recurring theme of her stand-up, albeit in routines that are as playful and frequently whimsical as they are often existentially bleak, discomforting and passionately conveyed. Her latest hour, If This Is It, nominated for best show at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival, is still evolving. Densely packed and opinionated, its crux is how the arts were crippled in the pandemic. ‘The refrain I heard a lot was, “oh, the arts are a luxury we can’t afford”: a frivolity,’ explains Davis. ‘I really believe it’s a forgotten primary industry because it’s a self-generating one. People are making things out of next to nothing and they can be incredibly profitable. We need people from different backgrounds to be able to talk about this freely. Not being told that they’re selfindulgent fairies skipping around!’ Visas permitting, Davis and her husband, Kiwi comic James Nokise, have settled in the UK once again, after the pandemic took her to both New Zealand and Perth in her homeland, where strict contagion control at least meant she was able to keep gigging. However, she only grabbed a flight south with half an hour to spare before the borders closed, spending most of lockdown in the woods by her mother-in-law’s house, communing with her darkest thoughts. She and Nokise tied the knot at the 2018 Edinburgh Fringe on their solitary day off from performing. But they can only justify coming back because they’re returning as a couple and deem it essential to ‘restart’ their UK careers. Like many, Davis is dismayed by the Festival’s disenfranchisement of working-class acts and a lack of diversity. ‘Now it seems like anyone who doesn’t have £10,000 to set fire to can’t do it,’ she observes. ‘There’s no equality. And if it’s not inclusive, you can’t call it the best arts festival in the world. Performers from Britain can’t afford it, let alone international acts.’ So with the caveat that it’s a somewhat ‘gendered’ description, ‘I feel like men can cover a lot of topics, political topics, and it not be remarked upon. If This Is It is an angry show but it’s also a silly show. And a hopeful show.’ She doesn’t yell as hard as she once did, borne from beginning her career in loud Australian bars. Or appear beneath a sheet because ‘I was so sick of being told that I didn’t look like a comedian that I flipped out.’ Recalling her first solo show, when she was 21, as ‘adorable’, Davis is reviving material ‘that I was just too cute to be performing then. Not my fault. I look at 25-year-old me and genuinely don’t believe there’s any reason she shouldn’t have a great joke on gun control. But I can see why it wasn’t thought marketable. Now I’ve gone back and got some of those great jokes to bring into 2022.’

Laura Davis: If This Is It, Monkey Barrel Carnivore, 4–28 August, 4pm.

COMEDY FIGHTING FORM

Rising star Christopher Macarthur-Boyd is raring to get back on a Fringe stage after the dark days of lockdown. He tells Marissa Burgess of his unconventional journey to stand-up via wrestling and a battle with self-worth

Glaswegian comedian Christopher Macarthur-Boyd may well hold the record for the earliest anyone performed a stand-up routine. He was in primary school, though his original material was considered somewhat quirky. ‘I had a Halloween-themed joke book and it was April. I think it was a bit alternative: “oh, he’s doing Halloween jokes, his influences are really interesting, he’s really playing with the form”,’ he laughs.

But his true beginnings in comedy were much later, following a dark moment that he pulled himself out of by taking on three things in life he’d always wanted to try. Music didn’t work out and wrestling was interesting for a while . . . ‘it turns out that they actually hit you and it hurts! This woman wrestler slapped me in the face and I didn’t know you had to keep your mouth closed; all my teeth dug into my cheek. Never doing wrestling again: hurt the inside of my mouth, slight concussion, glasses flew off my face. Just terrible.’

So stand-up it was. Years later, and with acclaimed solo shows to his name, Macarthur-Boyd is fully marked as one to watch. But his latest show, Oh No, addresses a second dark period in his life: losing work during lockdown. ‘It’s a show about how, when you’re working class, your job kinda defines your self-worth. My dad had the same thing I had: “I’ve been a hairdresser for 40 years, I’ve never missed a day’s work. Now I’ve not been a hairdresser for four months and I don’t know who I am”. And I had exactly the same thing with stand-up.’

So as soon as he had the opportunity, MacarthurBoyd leapt at the chance of doing a show during the ‘mini’ Fringe last year. ‘It was heaven. It was not the real Fringe, but 95% of comedians sold out every show they did. Because there was half as many people but a tenth of the shows, it felt like you were doing a Fringe . . . like when you read about people going, “oh yeah, back in 1968 there were about five stand-ups and one of them was bad”.’

Last year may have been fun but he’s particularly looking forward to this August. ‘Now I’m ready to go and have a real Fringe where it’s harder to sell tickets but the show is good. I’m happy to go out in front of people and go, “this is an hour of stand-up about something”.’

KNIVES OUT

Patti Harrison makes her Fringe debut this August, but the trans actor and comedian’s career trajectory is already fi rmly on the up in the US. She chats to Claire Sawers about keeping her show fresh, getting kicked off Twitter and who she doesn’t want in her audience

Sincerity, sarcasm and strangeness often blend into one during a conversation with Patti Harrison, whose star has been rising rapidly lately on the US alternative comedy scene. The Ohioborn, now LA-based actor and comedian brought dark, oddball laughs to body positive Portland comedy show Shrill and added some awkward lols in the surreal sketch series I Think You Should Leave With Tim Robinson. Described by Rolling Stone as, ‘poised to become the most visible working trans comedian in America’, Harrison played a cis surrogate mother in last year’s indie film, Together Together, about a platonic friendship that blossoms during a pregnancy. That role got her a nomination for the Independent Spirit Award for Best Female Lead, previously won by the likes of Frances McDormand and Julianne Moore.

Although she’s had a busy six years or so appearing in other people’s shows (including Bojack Horseman, Broad City and Bob’s Burgers, plus voiceovers for Disney’s Raya And The Last Dragon), Edinburgh audiences can check out her stand-up when she brings a solo show to the Fringe for the first time.

‘I have never been to Edinburgh! But I have heard it is really beautiful; breathtaking views, no air conditioning, huge boobs, tiny waists etc,’ she quips about her upcoming trip. Her self-titled show is a work-in-progress that she’ll continue to tweak throughout its 13-night run. ‘It’s a lot of fun night to night seeing how each show’s different, leaving breathing room to interact with the audience, and stumbling upon happy accidents. I get bored doing the same show over and over again and start to fidget,’ says the 31-year-old, who was diagnosed with ADHD last year and spoke about it in an interview with The New Yorker.

The youngest of seven, with VietnameseAmerican parents, Harrison is famously fond of an elaborate prank and deadpan lie, and got booted off Twitter last year for making tonguein-cheek transphobic comments in the guise of a well-known biscuit company. ‘I think Twitter was just becoming such a specifically toxic space; I’m glad to have time away from it. I don’t know if my creative output is more per se, but I definitely feel more calm throughout my days than I was when I was there.’

As a trans comedian, how does she protect herself from being used for woke tokenism by showbiz industry contacts? ‘It is hard to balance,’ she admits. ‘Sometimes it’s unavoidable. But I try and not get too bitter about it and just keep my nose down where possible and focus on making stuff I find interesting. Sometimes your work is fun and creatively fulfilling, but when you’re trying to capitalise on your art, it inevitably becomes business. So sometimes work is just work.’

Finally, when asked what kind of people should not come and see her show, she produces a short list of those who wouldn’t be welcome: ‘paedophiles, murderers, rapists or Virgos!’

Patti Harrison, Pleasance Courtyard, 3–15 August, 8.30pm.

3 To See

US tv writers

Comedy newcomers make up the vast majority of acts on the Fringe stages this August (well, that’s not definitive, but we’d happily lay some decent cash on it) and there’s also a small rump of folk who have written for telly in the US in attendance. The BriTANick (Assembly George Square, 3–28 August, 7.45pm) duo received Emmy nominations for their writing on Saturday Night Live and make cameo appearances in Judd Apatow’s new movie. For Edinburgh, they’ll race through a hyper yet crafted hour, directed by Fringe favourite Alex Edelman.

A writer for Eric Andre and Johnny Knoxville, the ‘delightfully weird’ Sarah Sherman (Gilded Balloon Teviot, 15–21 August, 10.30pm) makes her Edinburgh debut with a heavily anticipated set. She once had a show entitled Helltrap Nightmare so we might have a vague sense of what to expect. Carrying Monsters is the name of Christopher Titus’ (Assembly George Square Studios, 3–28 August, 6.15pm) hour. He penned his own sitcom in the States and has been praised for his highly original voice. We think that means the content of what he says rather than the way it sounds when it comes out of his mouth. Either way, could be a hit.

I’m literally an X-Man ”

Exposure on The Voice brought trans performer Jordan Gray an unexpectedly wide and mainstream audience. She tells Jay Richardson that simply being seen as accessible can be counted as a win

Jordan Gray boasts a memorable poster, after bouncing nude on a trampoline in front of a fan for an hour. ‘We got that shot with the first or second take, then couldn’t beat it,’ the stand-up smiles. Yet as Jordan Gray: Is It A Bird? demonstrates, ‘nudity stops being scandalous after about ten seconds. Once you get over that initial surprise, it’s just silly.’ Anxious not to be seen comparing herself to ‘the greatest musical comedian of all time’, Gray’s second Fringe hour nevertheless promises a Tim Minchin-like balance of stand-up punctuated by songs about dogs, her native Essex, superheroes and life as a transgender woman.

Having worked in the music industry and trailblazed as the first trans performer on BBC One singing contest The Voice back in 2016, she reflects that ‘as a transgender person you’re put on such a pedestal and people are quite confused about the science. I may very well be the next stage of human evolution: I’m literally an X-Man . . . and we walk among you!’

As a screenwriter and screen transgender consultant, she’s worked with Matt Lucas on a sitcom he’s developing, and written ‘a live-action superhero comedy script based on very niche intellectual property from the 90s that when it comes out (fingers crossed), people will very much recognise but would never have expected to be made into a film.’ And with a ‘mantle’ as a visible trans performer, Gray embraces ‘transplaining. My remit in life is being incredibly accessible. My audience is a broad, Middle England one; people that maybe don’t necessarily know what they’re looking at. If, by the end, they go, “fair play, I could go for a pint with you”, then I’ve succeeded’.

Identifying as an ‘underdog’ too, Gray is a working-class comic who can only afford to play the Festival because she’s making an ITV sitcom with Simon Pegg and Nick Frost’s production company Stolen Picture. With Frost playing her boss, Gray stars as supermarket worker Liv in the upcoming Transaction. She’s also landed a Radio 4 series based on her experience on The Voice. ‘When you’re in music, you take it incredibly seriously, and The Voice exacerbates it: six million people watching does that. It’s only in the fallout you can start poking fun at yourself. So I’m playing myself without self-awareness.’

Even so, becoming a role model on The Voice was ‘exciting, with instant floods of emails from young gender-questioning people, LGBT kids that were thinking of taking their own lives, about me being the first person they could relate to,’ Gray recalls. ‘I’m pleased with how I’ve grown into the role. If you’re first, you have to make it up as you go along.’

Jordan Gray: Is It A Bird?, Assembly George Square, 3–28 August, 10.25pm.

ALOK ALOK

Internationally acclaimed writer and thinker ALOK combines poetry with comedy in an unlikely pairing that represents both humour and trauma. Author of 2017’s Femme In Public, ALOK is a widely renowned speaker on equality for the LBGTQIA+ community and people of colour. However, their show is also a personal reflection on their own life and worldview. ‘This is a deeply personal show about healing,’ they explain. ‘When I create work that is personal and relevant to myself, it resonates most with my audiences.’

As non-binary, ALOK explores the principle of the binary and what it means to venture beyond it. ‘That’s the delight and wonder of being non-binary: it’s a lesson that we can experience grief and gratitude, and happiness and sadness at the same time.’

ALOK also explores the very concept of comedy. ‘So often trans people are the butt of the joke in contemporary comedy. This is not only to the detriment of trans people, but to the artform itself. At its best, comedy is a political genre because it denaturalises the status quo. And when it comes to these trying times, that’s more needed than ever. In my own life, humour has been one of the most compelling and effective strategies to move through grief and pain. Sometimes I laugh so hard I cry, and sometimes I cry so hard I laugh.’ (Rachel Cronin) n Traverse Theatre, 9–21 August, 9pm.

ANTHONY DEVITO

MY DAD ISN’T DANNY DEVITO

US comedy and the Mafia share a history tighter than piano-wire garrotting. As Kliph Nesteroff recounts in his seminal book The Comedians, if you were a stand-up performing in nightclubs postProhibition, you worked for the Mob. Yet for comic Anthony DeVito, the scars run deeper. Born in New Jersey, the Sicilian-American grew up having never met his father and believing he died in a car accident. At 19, he discovered that was only half-true.

For almost two decades, out of sensitivity to his mother who didn’t want her late husband’s links to the Mob made public, DeVito kept his father material vague. ‘When I first tried properly talking about him, I just envisioned it as another chunk of stand-up. But audiences would react in a way that suggested it was too complicated to drop into a standard set. Other comics were telling me it was a full show in itself, then more people were telling me it was a perfect Fringe show.’

Encouraged by friends who’d played Edinburgh such as Michelle Wolf, DeVito ultimately received his mother’s blessing too. ‘She saw how important it was for me, but every line has to be run by her. Because I was just a baby, their marriage is the show’s driving force.’ He has ‘tried to be respectful’ to his father’s victims. ‘It gets dark, the crimes he committed. I was really, really ashamed for a long time. And I’ve cried on stage. But I’ve realised he was indoctrinated into a life and that’s helped me have more empathy for him.’

Indeed, as a road comic, DeVito feels ‘like I could be my father in witness protection. I work nights and get paid in envelopes stuffed with cash too.’ Fortunately, he’s yet to spot one of his father’s former associates lurking at the back of a show. ‘I live in Queens, New York. There are sketchy Italian guys everywhere,’ he laughs. ‘So it’s not in my mind til I’m coming home late at night and there’s a weird Toyota Camry parked across the street. Thank god it’s usually just a drug dealer!’ (Jay Richardson)

n Just The Tonic At The Mash House, 4–28 August, 7.30pm.

HENNING WEHN

IT’LL ALL COME OUT IN THE WASH

Is Henning Wehn the ultimate outsider comedian? With decades of stereotyping embedded in the British psyche that Germans have no sense of humour, this North Rhine Westphalia-born, London-based stand-up has been forging his own path for the best part of 20 years. But call him an alternative comedian and he will balk at that notion. ‘I would see myself as the ultimate representative of the establishment,’ Wehn insists. ‘I suppose what I do might be called subversive but I don’t feel I’m part of a big movement.’

The economy is on Wehn’s mind with his new show which he describes as ‘an unbiased look at the covid crisis’; this follows his equally even-handed previous comedic investigations into Brexit and immigration. ‘If I can look back at the last show, the Brexit one, I found it quite easy to be ambivalent about it, because it doesn’t really affect me one way or another. But this one was a very different story such as if you had a business for 15 years and all of a sudden, through no fault of your own, you’re told you can’t run it. Covid certainly does have more impact on people’s lives. There are plenty jokes to be made about all that but you have to be willing to see them.’ (Brian Donaldson) n Queen’s Hall, 4–6, 11–13, 18–20, 25–27 August, 7pm.

EMMANUEL SONUBI EMANCIPATED

Emmanuel Sonubi used to be a bouncer. And the strapping comic still occasionally vets his audience. ‘Being stood by the door is where I’m most comfortable,’ he explains. ‘People hand me tickets, I’ll ask them for ID, then really weird questions that have nothing to do with their age. Just to see how long I can get away with it.’ When he then reappears at the mic, it can further throw the uninitiated.

But that’s Sonubi’s debut hour, Emancipated, in a nutshell. He undermines his hardman credentials when he reveals that the reality of keeping troublemakers out of nightclubs is normally just an intense stare and dubious knowledge of youth street slang. And his cred is further compromised if he acknowledges that he grew up terrified of his five older sisters; that he’s also a musical theatre veteran who took the title role in Boney M musical Daddy Cool; that he choreographed the hit Bollywood film Sivaji The Boss, and previously worked as an IT consultant.

Although continuing to play the bouncer affords him an easy, immediate persona for crowds to latch on to, the job also taught him ‘conflict resolution’. And he applies this conversational reasonableness to the so-called culture wars and freedom of speech debate, arguing for dialogue rather than insults and ‘finger pointing’. Impressively, despite being a stand-up for only six years and having suffered heart failure and a mini-stroke in 2019, he recorded his recent Live At The Apollo debut with a mere three days’ notice.

‘I’d been planning for that call for two years, getting a tight 15 minutes and just tweaking and tweaking it,’ Sonubi recalls. He’s now planning to depart the Edinburgh Fringe ‘with a bulletproof show that I can tour, an hour that I would want to watch on Netflix.’ (Jay Richardson)

n Underbelly Bristo Square, 3–29 August, 6.10pm.

STAND ONE

10.00 STEWART LEE, 3 - 28 AUG (NOT 15 OR 16) | 18+ 11.45 SEYMOUR MACE, 4 - 28 AUG (NOT 15) | 14+ 13.30 MARK THOMAS, 4 - 28 AUG (NOT 15) | 14+ 15.15 SIMON MUNNERY, 4 - 28 AUG (NOT 15) | 14+ 17.00 GARETH WAUGH, 4 - 29 AUG (NOT 15) | 14+ 18.45 KAI HUMPHRIES, 4 - 28 AUG (NOT 15 OR 22) | 16+

STAND TWO

12.00 JOANNA NEARY, 4 - 28 AUG (NOT 15) | 16+ 13.20 RACHEL JACKSON, 4 - 28 AUG (NOT 15 OR 24) | 16+ 14.40 MARY BOURKE, 4 - 28 AUG (NOT 15) | 16+ 16.00 MARJOLEIN ROBERTSON, 4 - 28 AUG (NOT 15) | 14+ 17.20 GAVIN WEBSTER, 4 - 28 AUG (NOT 15) | 14+

STAND NEW TOWN - GRAND HALL

NOON IN CONVERSATION WITH…, 6 - 28 AUG (NOT 24)* | 12+ 13.50 STEWART LEE: SNOWFLAKE, 3 - 28 AUG (NOT 15 OR 16) | 14+ 15.40 JOHN LLOYD: DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?, 5 - 15 AUG | 14+ 15.40 DARREN ‘LOKI’ MCGARVEY: THE SOCIAL DISTANCE

BETWEEN US, 16 - 21 AUG | 16+ 17.20 OMID DJALILI: THE GOOD TIMES, 4 - 20 AUG (NOT 15) | 16+ 17.20 TIME’S PLAGUE- DAVID HAYMAN, 21 - 28 AUG | 14+ 19.10 SH!T-FACED SHOWTIME: A PISSEDMAS CAROL, 3 - 28 AUG | 16+

STAND NEW TOWN - LOWER HALL

13.00 DES CLARKE: ONE O’ CLOCK FUN, 5 - 10, 12 - 14 AUG (NOT 11) | 14+ 13.00 MARK WATSON: MORE BANGING ON ABOUT TIME AND

SIMILAR ISSUES (WORK IN PROGRESS), 15 - 19 AUG | 12+ 14.50 HENRY NORMAL: THE ESCAPE PLAN, 5 - 7 AUG | 14+ 14.50 DAVID KAY: GARDEN OFFICE LEGEND, 8 - 14 AUG | 14+ 14.50 THE ECHO SALON, 15 - 26 AUG (NOT 20, 21) | 14+ 14.50 WORD UP, 20-21, 27-28 AUG | 14+

STAND NEW TOWN - STUDIO

12.05 POSSIBLY THE LAST CHANCE TO SEE SUSAN

MORRISON, 4 - 28 AUG (NOT 16) | 16+ 13.30 THE CABARET OF DANGEROUS IDEAS, 5 - 28 AUG * | 14+ 14.55 ADA CAMPE: TOO LITTLE, TOO SOON, 4 - 28 AUG (NOT 15TH) | 14+ 16.20 PIP UTTON AS ‘BACON’, 5 - 28 AUG (NOT 9, 16, 17, 23, 24) | 14+ 16.20 POLITICS & POETRY WITH CORBYN & MCCLUSKEY, 9 AUG | 14+ 17.45 THE CABARET OF DANGEROUS IDEAS, 5 - 28 AUG * | 14+ 19.10 2022 - THE BEGINNING OF THE END - VLADIMIR MCTAVISH, 4 - 28 AUG (NOT 16) | 14+ 19.10 BOB DOOLALLY LIVE & HALF-CUT IN QATAR, 16 AUG (& AT

STAND 1 ON 15 AUG) | 18+ 20.35 AFROPOLITICOOL - EUNICE OLUMIDE, 4 - 21 AUG (NOT 16) | 16+ 20.35 ABBY WAMBAUGH AND BRONWYN SWEENEY, 22 - 28 AUG | 14+ 22.00 KEVIN P. GILDAY: SPAM VALLEY, 4 - 14 AUG | 18+ 22.00 A CELEBRATION OF FATHER TED WITH JOE ROONEY, 15 - 21 AUG | 18+ 22.00 PHIL DIFFER: MY MEDICAL HELL, 22 - 28 AUG | 18+

18.45 THE FANNIES BIG NIGHT OUT (15TH ONLY) | 18+ 20.20 JO CAULFIELD, 5 - 28 AUG (NOT 15 OR 22) | 16+ 20.20 ELEANOR MORTON (15TH ONLY) | 16+ 22.00 SEANN WALSH, 3 - 28 AUG (NOT 15) | 16+ 22.00 BOB DOOLALLY (15TH ONLY) | 18+ 23.55 THE STAND LATE CLUB (FRI/SATS ONLY) | 18+

18.40 ROBIN GRAINGER, 4 - 28 AUG (NOT 15) | 16+ 20.00 RYAN CULLEN, 4 - 28 AUG (NOT 15) | 16+ 21.20 TOM MAYHEW, 4 - 28 AUG (NOT 15) | 18+ 22.40 LEE BROPHY, 4 - 28 AUG (NOT 15) | 18+

21.00 FRED MACAULAY- WHAT(EVER) NEXT?, 5 - 6 AUG | 16+ 21.00 JIM SMITH: THE HILLS HAVE AYES, 12 - 14 AUG | 16+ 21.00 PIP UTTON IS ADOLF, 15, 20, 21 AUG | 16+ 21.00 LIZ LOCHHEAD WITH STEVE KETTLEY ON SAX: BACK IN

THE SADDLE, 18 & 19 AUG | 14+ 21.15 FUN LOVIN’ CRIME WRITERS, 8 - 11 AUG | 12+ 23.00 THE STAND’S PICK OF THE FRINGE, 5, 6, 12, 13, 19, 20, 26, 27

AUG | 16+

16.40 PAUL SINHA: ONE SINHA LIFETIME, 4 - 28 AUG (NOT 16) | 16+ 18.30 THE BEST OF IRISH COMEDY, 5 - 28 AUG | 16+ 20.30 THE BEST OF SCOTTISH COMEDY, 5 - 28 AUG | 18+ 22.35 LEICESTER SQUARE THEATRE ALL STARS, 5 - 14 AUG | 18+ 22.35 FLATAND THE CURVES, 16 - 28 AUG | 14+

Punmeisters, politicos and medics all make their mark in the Fringe’s opening salvo

BOORISH TRUMPSON

Lecoq-trained clown Claire Parry brings physicality, absurdity and serious interaction to bear in this power play that might make you think of two political bullies. n Assembly Rooms, 4–26 August, 3.30pm.

COMEDIANS WINE TASTING WITH MATT HUTCHINSON

The spot where a panel show meets a winetasting session featuring the likes of Olga Koch and Thanyia Moore. It could get messy. n Monkey Barrel, 8 August, 10.25pm.

OLAF FALAFEL

The surrealist joke-teller par excellence is back with Stoat, a show featuring levitating fruit, mindreading mic stands and ducks chucking out insults like there’s no yesterday. n Laughing Horse @ The Pear Tree, 4–28 August, 3pm.

ANGELA BARNES

In Hot Mess, the acclaimed stand-up reflects on her recent ADHD diagnosis, and how this fits almost too perfectly in a world that’s not exactly in balance. n Pleasance Courtyard, 3–28 August, 7pm.

AYESHA HAZARIKA

Political nerd and stand-up comic Hazarika conducts special instalments of her radio show in which a panel of comics discuss and/or tear apart the news cycle. n Gilded Balloon Teviot, 8–14 August, 2pm.

RICHARD PULSFORD

There’ll be puns aplenty in his eighth solo show, this one under the name of A Bit More Rich. n theSpace @ Surgeons’ Hall, 5–27 August, 8.10pm.

COMEDY HIGHLIGHTS

Angela Barnes (and bottom from left), Boorish Trumpson, Olaf Falafel, Ed Patrick

ED PATRICK

This comedy medic will no doubt have tales of being on the covid frontline to share in his return to the stage with Catch Your Breath. n Just The Tonic At The Caves, 4–28 August, noon.

DANCE DANCE

BEATS ON POINTE

The pun in this show’s title is your gateway to understanding what’s in store. If you’re looking for highbrow, pull up to a different kerb. But if a high-octane mix of dance styles (ballet, street dance, commercial, contemporary) rubbing shoulders with beatboxing, comedy and gymnastic tumbles sounds like a fun night out, fill those boots. Australian troupe Masters Of Choreography (don’t get too excited: it’s named after its founders, Jennifer and Milo Masters, rather than being an artistic statement) know how to show audiences a good time, and whipping an early evening crowd into a feelgood frenzy is well within their grasp. (Kelly Apter)  Assembly Hall, 4–28 August, 7pm.

PICTURES: CAMILLA GREENWELL THE BIGGER PICTURE

BAFTA-nominated writer and director Yolanda Mercy is returning to the discipline she first trained in. Lucy Ribchester hears all about the trials of being a plus-sized dancer

In her early twenties, fresh from graduating in contemporary dance at London’s Trinity Laban, one of the country’s most prestigious dance schools, Yolanda Mercy went to an audition for a show she had loved for some time. It was a show she felt destined for: ‘you know when you have that trajectory of want for your career?’ she says over Zoom. The process involved a pre-audition walk around a dance studio, before progressing to the stage where dancers could demonstrate their technique. ‘I got to the point of walking around the room, and was pulled out and told, “you are too big to audition”.’ She was a size 12. ‘I didn’t even get a chance to dance. I just walked around the space.’

A friend who had attended the audition with Mercy had no training yet was invited to progress to the next stage: she was a size eight. ‘That made me think maybe there’s something wrong with me. I actually never told anyone because I was so embarrassed. I just stopped dancing.’ Having left dance behind, Mercy went on to achieve international acclaim as a writer and director. Her play Quarter Life Crisis was a critical success, leading to a publishing deal with Bloomsbury and commissions for Channel 4 and the BBC, which in turn netted her a BAFTA nomination.

But dance was always there in the background as the discipline Mercy not only loved but knew she was good at. ‘You know what you’re good at because you get told.’ The teachers at Laban, whom Mercy describes as ‘brilliant’, had always said she excelled at jumping because of her strong thighs. A few years ago she started feeling the urge to move again and went along to a contemporary dance class. ‘I thought maybe people would laugh at me because I’m big. But in fact, they were like, “you’re so good, have you danced before?” I lied. I said, “I’ve done bits and bobs”, because I was embarrassed. But then I started to question myself: what am I embarrassed about?’

It was the catalyst Mercy needed. The time had come to create a piece for plus-sized dancers, and so Dance Body was born. But there was a stumbling block. Mercy wanted to choreograph and write the show rather than dance herself, so she needed to find a plus-sized cast. She set up focus groups and auditions to attract the attention of larger dancers. ‘I got a lot of people who were size 12 and 14. I didn’t get anyone who was a size 18 or 20.’ Many of the bigger dancers in those focus groups were still too traumatised by their experiences of the industry to put themselves forward.

‘I never set out to make something political, but by the nature of it, it has become so. This is a big conversation. Where are the people who trained in contemporary dance who are size 18 or size 20 or plus? I wanted to meet you all. I want to get you on stage, but it’s been really hard to find them in the UK.’

In America, Mercy says the culture is more progressive, citing shows like Lizzo’s Watch Out For The Big Grrrls, where the musician superstar sets out to find plus-sized backing dancers. And in some non-Western cultures, being plus-sized is already synonymous with beauty. ‘In certain parts of the world they’re like, “you are beautiful, you’re a queen” and you’re like, “wait, you’re seeing me?”’

Although Dance Body is critical of Mercy’s own experiences, she describes it as a hopeful piece and believes it’s just ‘the first iteration’, both of her foray into plus-sized choreography and in normalising diverse body types on a dance stage. ‘I’m hoping the show will be a conversation starter. But in a way it’s such a sad thing that I’ve made it. That shouldn’t be a thing, right? It should just be a dance show.’

Like many artists during covid, acclaimed choreographer Serge Aimé Coulibaly found himself without work and wondering what the future held. He tells Kelly Apter how the creation of his latest show helped pull him throughthe twilight zone S erge Aimé Coulibaly is used to straddling two worlds. For the past 20 years, the choreographer and founder of Faso Dance Théâtre has divided his sensibilities between Africa and Europe, his time between Burkina Faso and Belgium, and his energy between running a company and being creative. But in 2020, Coulibaly found himself in less familiar territory: between a rock and a hard place. Having booked himself on the last flight out of Brussels before lockdown hit, the man who states ‘dance is a matter of life and death, it’s connected to everything I am’ found himself with a cancelled 50-date tour and no means of generating income. One light in that darkness was the presence of dancer Jean Robert Koudogbo-Kiki (or ‘Robbi’ as Coulibaly calls him) who was locked down alongside him in the company’s Bobo-Dioulasso studio. ‘At the beginning it was a nightmare because everything was gone,’ says Coulibaly. ‘I felt completely powerless and didn’t know what to do with my life. All that we had built had stopped suddenly. We saw all our tour dates being cancelled and I didn’t know how to face the future. That was when the idea came to create something.’ Back in 2013, Coulibaly created and danced a solo called Fadjiri, a word that describes the period when it’s not quite morning yet, but it’s no longer night. Now, he began to devise Fitry, which means it’s not quite night yet, but it’s no longer daytime. All the anger, frustration, fear and sadness built up by the pandemic finally had somewhere to go. Only this time, Koudogbo-Kiki rather than Coulibaly would dance the solo, giving both men a place to pour their emotional experiences. ‘Robbi is a dancer who listens so closely,’ Coulibaly says. ‘You only have to think something and he dances it. We have a long experience of collaborating together, and he’s one of those dancers that can just disappear himself and be in another person’s body. And I remember the first time he performed it, at the end he was in tears because he put so much of himself into the piece.’ Coulibaly’s choreography in the solo is a mix of breakdown and defiance, disbelief and acceptance; something he feels we’ll all recognise. ‘What’s nice about Fitry is people see themselves in some moment of their life. So then it’s like going on a trip together where there’s a really strong relationship between performer and audience.’

Fitry, Dance Base, 5–14 August, 8.15pm.

PICTURE: STYLE MAKER

Growing up queer and Muslim led Sadiq Ali down a path of destruction that ultimately turned to self-discovery and resilience. As Lucy Ribchester discovers, the Scottish performer found a unique language to tell his story

In 2016, some of the most horrific images of ISIS’s reign emerged: men executed for their sexual orientation by being thrown off buildings. Despicable to behold for most of us, the images carried an extra layer of terror for Sadiq Ali. He had been brought up Muslim and, at the time, secretly identified as queer.

‘I was seeing my family’s reaction, hearing my dad telling me he believed in the death penalty for homosexuals, and I wasn’t out at the time. I needed this space to unload and see what that meant to me.’ Some years before, Ali had found a way to express himself through circus, specifically Chinese pole, which he describes as ‘a solid structure in my environment, that doesn’t shake or mess with me’. Now he had the impetus and urgency to use his skills to tell an extremely personal yet universal story, about the contradictions, shame, trauma and resilience of growing up queer and Muslim.

He had created a prototype on the subject for his end-ofyear circus training showcase, but now he put a call out on Twitter for others with similar stories to come forward. He was overwhelmed to hear experiences that both chimed and contrasted with his own. ‘I realised through speaking to lots of other people that it’s not just about the gay shame which growing up in Islam can give you. There are also people who find it gives them resilience and a way to find comfort with themselves . . . I started to meet people who were positively open about being queer and Muslim.’

The piece developed into Ali’s first full-length work, The Chosen Haram (in Islam, something ‘haram’ is forbidden), a duet that envelops a boy-meets-boy love story in a tale of trauma, addiction and ultimate redemption. Ali says the piece is not critical of Islam and is ‘also just a beautiful and fun piece, with an incredible soundtrack’. But nor does it shy away from chronicling negative experiences that have occurred within the context of faith.

Some of these are still ongoing. The Chosen Haram was selected for the prestigious Made In Scotland showcase, which promotes and generates invitations for Scottish performers to travel abroad with their productions. But there are still countries that are not safe to visit because they continue to carry the death penalty for LGBTQ+ people. ‘Within western culture, I think some things have changed,’ Ali says. ‘There are open, visible support structures. But I worry about places where people do not have access to these supports. And I worry about countries where the death penalty still exists.’

The Chosen Haram, Summerhall, 3–27 August, 9pm.

Express yourself

INTERNATIONAL THE PULSE

When it comes to artistically combining circus, acrobatics, theatre and music into one epic performance, few do it quite like Australian company Gravity & Other Myths. In their new production The Pulse, the troupe’s largest ensemble will perform visceral, heart-stopping physical theatre alongside National Youth Choir Of Scotland’s 30 powerful voices.

Directed by Darcy Grant, with original music composed by Ekrem Eli Phoenix, plus light and set design by Geoff Cobham (the trio behind Gravity & Other Myths’ previous award-winning show Out Of Chaos), this production is more than a series of stunts you shouldn’t try at home: it’s also a display of human nature, connection and co-operation, performed to a beat inspired by a pulsating heart.

The unique merging of extreme physicality and delicately controlled imagery, with skilled performers soaring through the air and towering atop one another, creating starling-like murmurations as they go, explains why this show is taking over Edinburgh’s biggest theatre. With space for thousands of audience members, The Pulse is sure to be a large-scale event that elevates circus theatre to new heights. (Megan Merino) n Edinburgh Playhouse, 8 August, 7.30pm; 9 August, 2pm, 7.30pm.

FRINGE

EGG/FEMME

From an early age, the implied destiny for cis-women and girls is that our future will be inextricably linked to the eggs in our ovaries. Will we use them? Freeze them? Ignore them? Will we even be able to use them? How late is too late to decide? It was this plethora of fertility questions that hung over Australian movement practitioner Erin Fowler, round about the time covid hit.

A Facebook ad had popped up on her feed to tell her (charmingly) that her eggs were ‘dying off’ and offering her the chance to freeze them for $15,000. This threw the single 32-year-old down an existential rabbit hole of soulsearching, which evolved into her new show EGG. Trapped at home during lockdown, Fowler made EGG in her living room, using clowning, dance, an 80s soundtrack and a rather literal costume to explore some answers to this crucial dilemma.

Motherhood, however, is not the only women’s role on Fowler’s mind. Alongside EGG she’s presenting a shorter run of her 2019 show FEMME, a catwalk-set piece that delves into the multitude of movement and dress codes women are expected to adopt over a lifetime. The piece draws on Fowler’s past experience as a fashion model and businesswoman. Expect to see the whole gamut of feminine expectations dissected, as she journeys through winsome brides, bold fashionistas, shy tomboys and powerful CEOs, eventually landing on something that may just feel like the truth. (Lucy Ribchester) EGG, 5–8, 12–15, 19–21, 26–28 August, 5pm; FEMME, 9, 11, 18, 25 August, 5pm; both shows at House Of Oz.

The best in circus, physical theatre and dance to come your way during the opening week

BRAVE SPACE

In this completely immersive show, the all-female circus band erect a smaller tent within the Spiegeltent to envelop their limited audience of just 100 in a completely transformative performance space. There may be an element of audience participation. n Underbelly Circus Hub, 4–28 August, 3.30pm.

LION

Based in both Finland and France, this contemporary troupe bring us both humour and horror (always a fine line) while paying tribute to some traditions of old-school circus. n Assembly Rooms, 3–21 August, 4.40pm.

ONE

Kathak artist Amina Khayyam uses Indian classical dance to tell a contemporary tale of migrants and refugees being exploited by nefarious forces. n Dance Base, 5–10 August, 12.30pm.

TOMATO

As part of the Taiwan Season, this half-hour piece is devised for three dancers and a ripe red fruit, with lust and desire taking centre stage in a production with a strong feminist message. n Summerhall, 3–28 August, 3.10pm.

WE SHOULD BE DANCING

Does our taste for adventure and experimentation abandon us when we get older? This quintet examines how joy and freedom can arise from a determination to be creative. n Dance Base, 5–14 August, 1.50pm.

Brave Space (and bottom from left), One, Lion, Tomato DANCE HIGHLIGHTS

SCENE AFRICA

The producers of I Am Rhythm and Cell Block Soweto return with an eight-piece ensemble, intertwining original music, dance and short stories. n Underbelly Bristo Square, 3–29 August, 3.45pm.

DREAMS OF THE SMALL GODS

Inspired by myth, folklore and faerie-tales, this blend of aerial circus, masked ritual and performance art teams up for a hypnotic examination of the relationships between animals and humans. n Summerhall, 3–28 August, 7.50pm.

PICTURE: 58KG

KIDS KIDS

WILL TELL AND THE BIG BAD BARON

Storytelling and slapstick, satire and song. It’s all there in Theatre Fideri Fidera’s new show, a retelling of Wilhelm Tell’s tale. Whether he did actually shoot an apple off his kid’s head (with a crossbow!) is neither here nor indeed there, but what’s perhaps more important is that people learn how this Swiss freedom fighter helped take on the might of the Austro-Hungarian empire. If this show is to be believed, it comes with the help of a Punch And Judy show, some life-size puppets and a slice of jolly jousting. (Brian Donaldson)  Gilded Balloon Patter Hoose, 3–21 August, noon.

KIDS flight of fancy

After creating a buzz in Ireland, Dan Colley brings his pared-down adaptation of Gabriel Garcia Márquez’s bleak children’s tale to Edinburgh. He tells Lucy Ribchester about the importance of making dark art in a safe setting

‘I wasn’t instantly drawn to it. I read it and felt a bit unsettled.’ Director Dan Colley recalls his first encounter with Gabriel Garcia Márquez’s children’s story, A Very Old Man With Enormous Wings. This isn’t the usual ‘director falls in love with short story and decides immediately to adapt it’ kind of narrative. But then Márquez’s tale about an old man (with enormous wings) who arrives in a small town one night, inciting all kinds of awe and repulsive behaviour from the locals, isn’t your usual fable.

Colley first came across the tale in a collection of the Colombian author’s short stories, and was intrigued that it was singled out as being ‘for children’. It wasn’t until later, when the story was still echoing around his head, that he realised its ambiguities and open ending was actually the piece’s greatest strength.

‘When I returned to it, I was like, “oh, I didn’t get this because there’s nothing to get”. It is dark and strange and ambiguous and really has no moral lesson at all.’ This fact alone, Colley points out, is unusual for a children’s tale. Even some of his favourite writers for children, such as Oscar Wilde, are unable to stop lessons creeping into their stories. ‘But Márquez is like, “no”. There’s this story about an old man who gets washed up in a storm. He takes his treatment like an old dog, and it’s cruel and it’s strange. And one day he just flies away. I just thought, for me, that’s so much more reflective of my experience in the world. It’s quite magical.’

Colley, who has created the piece with Ireland’s Riverbank Arts Centre and Collapsing Horse theatre company, is no stranger to making work specifically for young audiences. In 2015 he brought the fable-esque Human Child to Edinburgh, along with the trippy, joyous Bears In Space. So far, A Very Old Man With Enormous Wings has been racking up praise and awards while touring Ireland and playing at Dublin Fringe. Though it is unequivocally bleak in parts (the old man is imprisoned in a chicken coop, gawped at, poked and prodded by the local community), Colley believes giving children a sneak preview of the world’s cruelties in a safe environment is all part of the growing process. ‘It’s that Marina Warner thing where she says the place to experience that kind of darkness and strangeness is in comfort on your mammy’s knee. It’s like a little inoculation; it’s getting to explore that darkness in the world so you can have a little experience of it, and then go around knowing a bit of what it feels like.’

Colley still remembers one of his first theatrical experiences, a trip to see the pantomime Jack And The Beanstalk, where at one point, a giant hand loomed down from up in the gods. It left him with a ‘thrill and terror’ which he still recalls. Though his own directing style is less outré (Colley describes it as putting on stage ‘only as much as people need to have an image in their heads’), he hopes the piece will be similarly memorable, opening up space for children to talk about the show with their parents and keep returning to its themes. ‘After the story, the questions come at bedtime. It kind of sticks with you, grows with you; like that hand from Jack And The Beanstalk has grown with me.’

magic moments

Jay Lafferty is leaving the grown-up stand-up stage to entertain kids of all ages. Rachel Cronin hears how a gap in the storytelling market inspired her new show

Greenock-born comedian Jay Lafferty is channelling her roots in drama and music with the return of her interactive storytelling kids’ show. The Song Of Fergus And Kate is a medley of music, animation and mindfulness with a strong message of friendship at its core. ‘The play is rooted in mindfulness practice,’ explains the comic. ‘So it’s all about textures and sounds and noticing things, and just slowing down and being in the moment. And then the actual story is about embracing your differences; how it’s wonderful that we’re all different.’

The characters of Fergus and Kate come to life through puppets by costume designer Sophie Rowland. Animations by Henry Cruickshank are projected behind Lafferty’s storytelling, which is accompanied by DaveBeMac’s music to engage a wide range of ages. ‘It’s appropriate for children from zero, I would say, up to about eight years old,’ explains the creator. ‘So it’s quite a nice family thing. If you’ve got a four-year-old and an eight-year-old, they will both enjoy this show.’

After taking her own little one to last year’s Fringe, the Edinburghbased comedian struggled to find anything story-based for young children. ‘Last year was a much-reduced Fringe but it was obvious to me that there was really nothing for little kids. And I found it difficult to find anything that I could take my little boy to. I also feel like a lot of the shows for young children lose that element of story.’

Having created the play in 2017, Lafferty is returning to the characters as a new mother. ‘As a comedian for the last ten years, I’ve been going through IVF treatments to have my little boy. It’s quite special this year that he can come and see something that I do. So yeah, I’m really excited to be able to do it.’

The Song Of Fergus And Kate aims to encourage children who’ve missed out on important social interaction over the past two years to embrace diversity and engage both with the story and each other. ‘I think since children haven’t had the opportunity to mix, you only know what you know,’ Lafferty notes. ‘So when you see yourself and your family and what’s normal for you, then you don’t know that there are other people who have completely different lives and do things completely differently. And that’s great. It’s like a rich tapestry.’

The Song Of Fergus And Kate, Gilded Balloon Teviot, 3–28 August, 10.15am.

ULTRAVIOLET PRODUCTIONS

FOUNDATIONS

‘We wanted to explore human relationships with technology in a fun, fantastical way,’ explains co-director Aimee Dickinson about the origins of Foundations two years ago. The play was devised collaboratively by a team of Durham University students. ‘It gradually shaped into this whimsical adventure story of a teenage girl who discovers a race of robots and their attempts to befriend and understand one another. It’s a story about having empathy for others, even if you don’t quite understand them, and the problems that can come from forcing your ideas onto other groups.’

Before Ultraviolet Productions, the show was produced with Wrong Tree Theatre Company who specialise in physical theatre. Movement, lighting and an original techno soundtrack composed by Josh Powell constitute essential elements of the storytelling. Particularly special is the use of puppetry to play the robot characters.

The ‘uncanny’ puppets were designed by co-director AV Bodrenkova for a show that has been dubbed ‘a Pixar movie brought to life’. And like all classic films from that studio (think Inside Out or WALL-E) this play is designed to appeal across the generations. As Dickinson concludes, ‘the themes of friendship, family, betrayal and forgiveness are ones that audiences of all ages can enjoy and relate to.’ (Rosanna Miller)

 Underbelly Cowgate, 4–21 August, 11.05am.

‘One of the Summer’s best cultural events’ The Times

‘Rather special and unique’ ★★★★ List ‘Clear, accessible, moving...amazing’ Guardian

‘I loved it. I loved all of it’ Primary Times Children's Choice Awards

Join BBC Covid expert Professor Tom Solomon CBE in this fun, interactive, sell-out show

3rd -16th August (10.30am) @RunningMadProf

and The Wheel of Science! and The Wheel of Science!

Science. Comedy. Kaboom! Science. Comedy. Kaboom!

‘This show is what you want live children’s theatre to be.’

BROADWAYWORLD.COM

12:00 3 - 21 August

THE TURBINE THEATRE

THE CAT IN THE HAT

Is it the never-ending rhymes, a gigantic talking animal, or just the delightful notion of making a whole lot of mess while your parents are away? Whatever the magic ingredient in Dr Seuss’ classic children’s book, The Cat In The Hat has certainly stood the test of time. First published in 1957, the book was a response to those formulaic literacy primers of the time.

Countless adaptations and 65 years later, the iconic Cat and his striped hat are about to be let loose in a revival of Katie Mitchell’s popular version, created for the National Theatre in 2009. ‘We’ve all been a bored child and we’ve all wished we could be swept up by a whirlwind of excitement,’ says director Andrew Beckett. ‘The Cat In The Hat is the pinnacle of playtime, a daydream we could all wish for. It’s the accessibility of this fantasy that makes it so special and timeless.’

Timeless it may be, but there’s also an awful lot of mess to consider. In the book, the cat juggles household objects, while pint-sized terrorists (Thing One and Thing Two) raise merry hell. How easy was it to capture this on stage? ‘We looked at the book to create tableaus and moments that convey the story as Dr Seuss illustrated it,’ says Beckett. ‘When the Things are let out of the box and pandemonium occurs, the actors have so much fun with the over-sized props. And we have a lovely anarchic twist to multiply the mayhem.’ (Lucy Ribchester)

 Pleasance Courtyard, 3–22 August, 10am.

Science affairs meet clowning fun in an array of family-friendly entertainment on the Fringe

BOY: LOOKING FOR FRIENDS

In this clowning family show from Piotr Sikora, a lad goes on an adventure during which everything he encounters comes alive. n Laughing Horse @ Bar 50, 4–28 August, 11.15am.

MARK THOMPSON’S SPECTACULAR SCIENCE SHOW

It very much says it in the name as the Fringe regular delivers a show of scientific explosions and chemical reactions. All in the name of information and entertainment. n Gilded Balloon At The Museum, 3–21 August, 11am.

STRICTLY COME BARKING

A slapstick comedy romp about an isolated old man and a dog that’s desperately looking for a home to feel safe in. But can such a relationship endure after a few missteps? n Assembly George Square, 4–29 August, 11.35am.

SPLASH TEST DUMMIES

Adelaide Fringe veterans unveil a speedy hour of acrobatics and chaos as their beach-based antics crank up a level. Barely a dry eye in the house. n Underbelly Circus Hub, 6–27 August, 12.05pm.

RETURN OF THE MATHS WITH KYLE D EVANS

Somehow succeeding in making numbers fun for a young crowd, this award-winning performer puts the mirth in arithmetic. Wait, that’s not quite right . . . n PBH Free Fringe @ Brewdog Doghouse, 6–15 August, 11.50am.

KIDS HIGHLIGHTS

Yellow Bird Chase (and bottom from left), Mark Thompson’s Spectacular Science Show, Splash Test Dummies, Boy: Looking For Friends

SCIENCE ADVENTURES: THE POWER PICKLE

More fun merging with a spot of education as Prof McGuffin attempts to solve a potentially catastrophic malfunction in his lab. n Pleasance Courtyard, 3–21 August, 11.30am.

YELLOW BIRD CHASE

Masks, puppetry and indecipherable language reign supreme as a maintenance crew discover a unique bird but get rather a lot more than they bargained for. n Assembly George Square Studios, 4–29 August, noon.

MUSIC MUSIC

RUSALKA

It’s a busy time in Scotland for opera director Jack Furness. His new Garsington ˇ Opera production of Dvorák’s fairytale opera Rusalka opens in Edinburgh just as his even newer production of Bernstein’s Candide for Scottish Opera is about to be unveiled in Glasgow. Originally intended for the 2020 Edinburgh International Festival, Rusalka has received glowing reviews from its Garsington performances back in June. Natalya Romaniw is exceptional as the eponymous water nymph who wants to give up an enchanted magical life having fallen deeply in love with a human prince. (Carol Main)  Festival Theatre, 6, 8 & 9 August, 7.15pm.

LISTEN UP

Producer and artist SHHE is building a contemplative haven of sound structures for this year’s Fringe. Iain Leggat lends an ear as she talks of blissfully losing control in a Nordic village

While watching footage of a drive through Iceland’s Westfjords, it’s difficult not to marvel at the jaw-dropping scenery. Witnessing snow-capped rock faces, low-lying glaciers and silky blue skies, the temptation to book yourself a plane ticket to this Nordic paradise is strong. However, capturing the serenity and beauty of Iceland is a tougher task than simply marvelling at it. Scottish producer and artist SHHE’s latest project D Ý R A resulted in her getting stuck in an Icelandic winter and changing recording plans day by day, only to realise that what she was feeling was worth exploring.

SHHE (whose real name is Su Shaw) was inspired to create D Ý R A while at a residency in a Westfjords village called Thingeyri. ‘I had never made work in that kind of environment before; one where you are not in control,’ Shaw says. ‘You had to adapt to the environment. Something always changed or was no longer possible or available or accessible. Everything was constantly in transition and shifting.’

During a storm only a few days into her stay, Shaw’s plans of venturing out into the towering fjords were halted. Stuck inside, the microphone was pointed towards her immediate surroundings. Short recordings of life through the window, the water, the wind and harmony of snowploughs were all collected. ‘As I listened, natural rhythms, patterns and connections began to emerge. That was my first introduction to field recording; those early recordings began to inform, and eventually formed, the basis of the whole project.’

First developed in 2018 with Summerhall, her show will now play a role in creating a space to escape the frenzy of the Fringe. ‘I want it to be a place where you can find stillness, openness and a meditative state.’ Has this encouragement to find serenity within the chaos developed since 2018? ‘My ears have become much more sensitive over the last two years. How many of us became more aware of sounds in our natural environment during lockdown? When everything began to open again, when traffic returned, I realised how loud our environments really are. So much of the way we experience the world is dependent on visuals. We’ve forgotten how to listen.’

The project takes visitors on an intimate sonic journey through a reimagining of the Dýrafjörður environment and considers how a landscape can be collectively experienced. ‘Over the years that the project has been developed, I have felt and seen changes in the landscape with more erratic or abnormal weather conditions both in Iceland and where I live in Scotland,’ says Shaw. ‘With D Ý R A, I wanted to explore the ways that you can evoke the feeling of a place, to be transported to a location through sound, not just to hear but to actively listen, to gently encourage a shift in focus from the visible to the audible.’

D Ý R A, Summerhall, 3–28 August, hourly from 3–7pm.

Lizabett Russo

3 To See

at pianodrome

Summerhall may be laying on a solid programme of innovation and intrigue with its music selection this August, but over at the Old Royal High School, Pianodrome is giving the venue a run for its bitcoins. Scotland-based Romanian artist Lizabett Russo (18 August, 9pm) has a folk sensibility which leans into the avant-garde and a stirring vocal quality that regularly pierces the soul.

As part of her PhD, sonic adventurer Lauren Sarah Hayes (24 August, 9pm) undertook research into the ways in which sound and touch interweave within the context and confines of live electronic performance. Among her mind-warping pieces are ‘Bolshevik Pool Party’, ‘Mini Savior Opt’ and ‘Crummiest Coup’.

Local acoustic innovators S!nk (19, 21, 26–28 August, times vary) released their album, PopUpOcalypse last summer and are fond of the odd guerilla gig. Further on the plus side, they have a track entitled ‘Sound Of Muesli’.

FRINGE

LIZARD BOY

As a child, Trevor was involved in a dragon-slaying incident where he was accidentally covered in the beast’s blood and went on to develop an unsavoury skin condition: don’t you hate it when that happens? Such is the backstory of boutique three-hander musical Lizard Boy (conceived and composed by Justin Huertas) which premiered in Seattle seven years ago and is now heading transatlantic to the Fringe with UK actors appearing in rotation with its original US cast.

Huertas himself stars as the unfortunate Trevor, a queer Filipino superhero venturing out on his first Grindr date in a year when he gets rather more action than he bargained for on the streets of Seattle. Lizard Boy is Huertas’ first musical, inspired by his love of comic books and the X-Men franchise, but also his desire to subvert those superhero fables. The show is also seasoned with a dash of Spring Awakening’s coming-of-age angst, though much lighter and more comical in its themes of alienation and acceptance, while its sound is defined by an unusual instrumental lineup of cello, guitar, ukulele, kazoo and glockenspiel.

‘I think Lizard Boy is one of the most unexpected theatre experiences out there as an actor-musician musical that skates along so many different amazing genres and themes,’ says Huertas. ‘This feels like the perfect show for the Fringe, where we have always wanted to perform: I honestly can’t wait to share it!’ (Fiona Shepherd)

n Gilded Balloon Patter Hoose, 3–28 August, 6.30pm.

#DANISH

At Edinburgh Festival Fringe

presented by The Danish Arts Foundation

ROCKY!

by Fix&Foxy

 17.55 ❙ Aug 5 – 20

ZOO Southside - Main House

Fiercely entertaining award-winning political theatre based on the movie about the boxer.

WALKMAN

by Don Gnu

 12.15 ❙ Aug 14 – 28

ZOO Southside - Main House

You will never cross the street in the same way again! TUESDAY NIGHT SLEEPING CLUB

by hello!earth

 21.00 ❙ Aug 9 – 26 (only Tuesday-Friday)

ZOOTV

An immersive live streamed audio experience at your home. Prepare to enter the night like you never did before!

AN EVE AND AN ADAM

by Granhøj Dans

 18.50 ❙ Aug 9 – 14 ❙ DANCEBASE

NB: Granhøj Dans presents works the whole month A rather naked duet.

PICTURE: KATHERINE ROSE FRINGE

SACRED PAWS

Sacred Paws have been mainstays in the Scottish music scene for most of the last decade. Signed to Mogwai’s Rock Action label and recipients of the 2017 Scottish Album Of The Year award, the duo of Rachel Aggs and Eilidh Rodgers furiously mix propulsive Afrobeat rhythms with anxious post-punk energy and jangly indie. Formed after the dissolution of their former band Golden Grrrls in 2013, Aggs and Rodgers collaborated between Glasgow and London on their debut sixtrack EP and hit the live circuit. Generating a buzz with buoyant live shows, the two musicians released their anticipated debut Strike A Match in 2017 to great reviews. They followed this up with 2019’s Run Around The Sun, a more polished record which went even further to capture the sheer joy of their sound by adding layers of horns and synth.

With Aggs on guitar and Rodgers on drums, and both taking on vocal duties, Sacred Paws are a true team. Their friendship is infectious, with the yelps and pulsing rhythms that characterise their music encouraging audiences to join the party. No matter what the dreary Scottish weather outside says, Sacred Paws always bring a ray of sunshine to the stage. (Sean Greenhorn)

n Summerhall, 6 August, 7pm.

27th-28th August 2022

Join us in the tranquil setting of Traquair House in the Scottish Borders for a Festival of literature, dialogue, debate, music, and visual arts, featuring Alastair Campbell, Jonathan Powell, Christina Lamb, Murray Pittock, Rosemary Goring, Bettany Hughes, Irvine Welsh, Razia Iqbal, Tina Brown, Steve Richards and many more!

Tickets, Programme & Further Information

0131 290 2686 bbintfest.com Traquair House Innerleithen EH44 6PW

From jazz legends of the 60s to a contemporary German producer, this first week of your Festival goes off with a sonic boom

HERBIE HANCOCK

The jazz, R&B and electro-funk guy makes his International Festival debut at the age of 82, with a concert that will span the decades and woo those various generations present. n Edinburgh Playhouse, 7 August, 8pm.

ELTON CAPTAIN FANTASTIC

From Herbie’s ‘Rockit’ to Elton’s ‘Rocket Man’, as Oliver Harris transforms himself into the glam icon formerly known as Reg Dwight to perform one classic tune after another. n Frankenstein, 5–29 August, noon.

ANNE SOFIE VON OTTER

Another evergreen act is the Swedish mezzo soprano who’s in town with an eclectic programme culled from two very different composers: Franz Schubert and Rufus Wainwright. n Queen’s Hall, 10 August, 11am.

CELLO ON FIRE

Austrian cellist Peter Hudler delivers a mix of baroque, rock, jazz and folk, with the boundaries between all four somehow disappearing before your eyes and within your ears. n theSpaceTriplex, 5–13 August, times vary.

COLIN STEELE QUINTET PLAYS MILES DAVIS

Close your peepers and you might imagine you’re present at the Birth Of The Cool as Steele’s men (including Dave Milligan on piano and Konrad Wiszniewski on sax) conjure up the late, great Miles. n Jazz Bar, 6, 10 August, 10pm.

Herbie Hancock (and bottom from left), Christian Löffler, Colin Steele, Anne Sofie von Otter MUSIC HIGHLIGHTS

CHRISTIAN LÖFFLER

The German producer and artist has recently been reinterpreting works from the likes of Beethoven, Bach and Bizet, but who knows where he’ll go with this gig. n Summerhall, 5 August, 7pm.

JEREMY SASSOON’S MOJO

The great Jewish songbook is celebrated here with the likes of George Gershwin, Carole King, Paul Simon and Randy Newman having their wares aired. n Assembly Checkpoint, 3–28 August, 6.15pm.

PICTURE: MATS BA CKER

THEATRE

MEGALITH

Not every Fringe show will have researchers from the Natural History Museum on board, but Megalith is no ordinary theatre piece. Emerging from the erudite and innovative minds of 2018 Herald Angel winners MECHANIMAL, this performance art/physical theatre piece explores life on an ever changing planet in visceral yet poetic terms. To make their point (about ecology, extraction and Euro-war), each show features the noisy destruction of 250kg of rock. (Brian Donaldson)  ZOO Southside, 5–13 August, 12.15pm; 21–28 August, 4pm.

Festival favourite Alan Cumming is back and stretching himself with a new challenge. The actor tells Kelly Apter how he hopes dance will help audiences gain a deeper understanding of Robert Burns

HOT

ON THE

HEELS

Unusually for a TV star, Alan Cumming wants us to change the channel. Not literally, but in our brains. In a bid to get under the skin of Scotland’s most famous son, Robert Burns, Cumming has stepped away from the day job as an actor and slipped on his dancing shoes. Because what better way to reacquaint ourselves with such a famous (in some ways infamous) historical figure than to view him through a different lens? ‘I always say that what I love about dance is that you’ve got to switch off the part of your brain which, if you’re watching a play, goes, “what am I supposed to think here?” or “what’s going on?”’ says Cumming. ‘You’re expected to just let it wash over you in dance and I feel like it’s a much more emotional experience. I think it will be jangling for people, and so it should be, because Burns had such a jingly, jangly life. We’re blinded by his work, so in a way I wanted to dazzle people by telling his story in a completely different way. I actually think dance is a useful way to ask people not to switch off but to switch to a different channel.’

If, as Cumming says, we struggle to see past Burns’ literary output, then we’re also blinded by the shortbread tins, fridge magnets and swaying drunkenly to him on Hogmanay. But knowing the first verse of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ as opposed to those inner workings of the man who wrote it are two quite different propositions, as Cumming discovered during his research for the show.

‘I feel that Burns is someone who’s so known,’ he says. ‘He really represents Scottishness; he speaks to us and for us. All the qualities he writes about are what we think of as Scottish traits. And yet at the same time, I don’t feel we know that much about the real man; I know I didn’t.’ Among other discoveries, Cumming learned that Burns was affected by bipolar disorder, a fact now widely accepted by academics based on his writing about depression, medical records and the hypomania visible in his productivity.

‘It’s fascinating,’ says Cumming, who has spoken out about his own experiences of anxiety and depression. ‘I definitely related to his inability at times to cope with what was happening to him. I think this is a time when we’re actually looking at things like that; the pandemic has made us much more aware of mental health and not having to put up a façade all the time.’

Like many people growing up in Scotland, Burns was a regular presence for Cumming both at home and in the classroom. Taking time to delve beneath the surface has changed Burns from a larger-than-life figure into someone much more real. Does Cumming think portraying him through movement will also help audiences connect on a more human level?

‘Yes, I hope so,’ he says. ‘I’ve always loved dance and admired the way dancers can tell a story with their entire bodies. Burns was such a constant part of my upbringing but I kind of saw him as a hero; and he still is. There are a few conundrums like he had all these children and slept around, but he also talked about the need for women’s rights when no other man was talking about it. So actually, what I’ve found is that the man himself led a tragic life; so many awful things happened to him and he was constantly worried about money and fighting his bipolarity and illness. Just finding out more and more about him has made up this much more vivid picture.’

Burn, King’s Theatre, 4–10 August, times vary.

voice male

Jon Culshaw is having a blast as he takes on the role of Les Dawson in a new Fringe play. The master impressionist tells Mark Fisher that this comedy legend from another era was more of a wise uncle

An online chat with Jon Culshaw is like a celebrity conference call. We have scarcely begun when the shapeshifting starts. Here is Alan Bennett, unguarded and naive. Now Professor Brian Cox, smiley and awe-struck. Then it’s David Bowie, hitting a different note with each word. Culshaw even mimics the electronic voice that says ‘recording in progress’.

‘I do it all the time,’ he says, switching back to his native Lancastrian. ‘I like to colour the conversation in.’ It is very funny, although you’ll have to take my word for it, because none of it would make much sense on the page. What transfers to print rather better are his impressions of Les Dawson. That’s because, as well as the facial gurning and deliberately bad piano-playing, what marked out the Manchester comedian was his literary way with words. Smacking his lips, his expression severe and voice gravelly, Culshaw speaks those words with relish.

‘I always loved and admired Les Dawson because of his luxuriant, loquacious use of language,’ he says, perfectly capturing the comic’s rhythm. ‘This lovely erudite, Shakespearean quality of description, which told the jokes in this adorable manner, giving us a vivid story, as if laden in velvet. There’s a lovely contrast as Les Dawson’s face is very still yet the words are so lugubrious: “the spiritual majesty of the crescent moon ascending the horizon into the zenith of the night sky . . . ” The words dance but the face is deadpan.’

His reason for having these lines off-pat is a starring role in Les Dawson: Flying High by Tim Whitnall. The playwright has been working his way through the icons of 1970s light entertainment with the award-winning Morecambe (about Eric) and the recent Lena (about Zavaroni) in which Culshaw played Hughie Green. He now turns his attention to Dawson, a working-class comic who built a mass audience through TV shows such as Opportunity Knocks and Blankety Blank, before his death in 1993.

Rather than dramatise the whole story, Whitnall focuses on a single journey on Concorde in 1985. Dawson had been booked to play a private party in New York and had a few hours to think about his proposed autobiography. ‘That’s a nice framing device,’ says Culshaw. ‘It’s a time to consider your life and pull together all your thoughts.’ Doing the play, he says, is ‘like spending time with a wise uncle’.

Culshaw’s own route to the top was gradual. He went straight from sixth-form college to Red Rose Radio in Preston and, as a local radio DJ, would put on voices in between the records. At Viking Radio in Hull, he interviewed Lenny Henry who was impressed by his funny voices and suggested he send a tape to Spitting Image. When Steve Coogan left that show, Culshaw got his break. Today, he is a mainstay on Radio 4’s Dead Ringers.

In turn, those experiences have given him the confidence to move into straight acting and he’s loved extending his range. ‘You’re not just reaching for exaggerations or a punchline,’ says Culshaw, who has starred in radio dramas about David Bowie and Alan Whicker. ‘You’re wanting to create the essence of the person. It’s about hitting those nuggets of truth.’

That sense of truth is his way in to what he regards as a fascinating period of popular entertainment. This is a show that will appeal, he says, not only to those familiar with the era of Bob Monkhouse, Morecambe And Wise and The Two Ronnies, but also to today’s generation. ‘I would liken it to me when I first saw Laurel And Hardy or Harold Lloyd; seeing these gems of performers with their wonderful skills from this other era. The 70s is a lovely time to discover brand new.’

Les Dawson: Flying High, Assembly George Square, 3–28 August, 4.30pm.

GENIUS

BAR

In Masterclass, Adrienne Truscott takes mighty exception to conventional wisdom about certain revered male playwrights. Neil Cooper discovers the performer pulling no punches as she questions their hallowed status

When Adrienne Truscott read in 2017 that playwright David Mamet had imposed a ban on post-show discussions of his work, she wondered why the writer of such acclaimed plays as Glengarry Glen Ross and Oleanna wasn’t keen on meeting his public. The result is Masterclass, a parody of the sort of exchanges that might occur if those grand old men of American playwriting were put in the spotlight alongside a fawning interviewer. Out of this comes a seriously funny discourse on privilege and power in a world where tough guys still appear to rule the roost.

‘There are some writers that are esteemed and given the name “genius”,’ says Truscott of her collaboration with the Dublin-based theatre company Brokentalkers. ‘And they’re shit. I guess I felt there was some lazy mythologising going on, and if you actually look at the work, there is some really bad writing which shaped how people my age thought what good playwriting is.’

As well as Mamet, Truscott (along with fellow performer Feidlim Cannon and co-writer Gary Keegan) looked at the work of Neil LaBute and Aaron Sorkin as occupants of the same bullpen. Some of this unholy trinity’s actual words are used in Masterclass, which premiered at the 2021 Dublin Fringe.

‘These writers have a name for doing these really tough, provocative takes, particularly on gender,’ says Truscott. ‘But if you look at it, it’s hilarious just how bad it is. As if that wasn’t mind-numbing enough, you can hear critics going on about this tight, taut, tense, muscular writing. It’s just an abomination.’

Truscott’s Edinburgh appearances to date include being one half of radical cabaret duo The Wau Wau Sisters, while her solo work, Adrienne Truscott’s Asking For It, won Spirit Of The Fringe and the Malcolm Hardee Award For Comic Originality in 2013. Brokentalkers, meanwhile, have been pushing theatrical boundaries for more than two decades, and won a Total Theatre Award in Edinburgh for their 2013 show, Have I No Mouth.

As Truscott and Brokentalkers move beyond the oldschool boys’ club approach, what, one wonders, might happen if Mamet and co turned up mobhanded to see Masterclass? ‘It would be so thrilling for me to have them hear their own words with a particular light that we’re shining on them,’ says Truscott. ‘If I could arrange for them to be in the audience, I would die a happy woman.’

THEATRE stage fright

One-woman revenge drama Psychodrama tells of a theatre auteur who abused his power with vulnerable actors. Emily Bruni assures Mark Fisher that her own director is perfectly safe

How many actors will want to strangle their directors before the end of August? The ingredients are all there: the intensity, status games, anxiety, box-office stats. Mix with alcohol, leaven with exhaustion and toss into the Fringe pressure cooker and you have the perfect recipe for a backstage murder.

But what if it really did happen? That’s the premise of Psychodrama, written and directed by Matt Wilkinson, in which a visionary director has been found dead. The finger of suspicion points towards his leading actor who’s appearing in an adaptation of Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho when she’s implicated in the crime.

Played by Emily Bruni (best known as Gail Huggins, neighbour to Mitchell and Webb’s hapless duo in Peep Show), she has motivation aplenty; not least in an industry that loses interest in female performers once they pass 40. If the play’s stories of ill treatment seem too much, just remember they’re based on real life. ‘It’s an insiders’ view,’ says Bruni. ‘All the stories are researched and come from within our community. A producer friend came and couldn’t believe the stories were real, but they’re just everyday, weekly stories; just stuff that happens to actors.’

Wilkinson’s play, a hit already in London, does not venture as far as the abuses that sparked #MeToo, but it does identify a pattern. Actors are doubly vulnerable: one, because they’re driven to do a job they love (and will do at all costs) and two, because the nature of that job makes them emotionally exposed. For unscrupulous directors, actors are easy prey.

‘You are using your vulnerability as part of the transaction,’ says Bruni. ‘You’re cast on how you look and you rely on someone else to help you form the performance. You’re using a lot of emotional intimacy. The director is being a sort-of super-parent in order for you to be in this playful state. Their gaze is what draws your performance out and their quality of attention helps you create. It can inspire devotion when it’s good and there are many times when there are no dark overtones. The play is not a moan, a rant or a piece of political theatre. It’s a brilliant story about a murder and, along the way, you’re given access to subtle injustices and betrayals that can occur to actors who, in some cases, are very successful.’

Forming a noirish backdrop to the police investigation is Psycho’s heightened drama. Our actor has been cast as Marion Crane, an unhappy secretary on the run with stolen cash who makes another ill-fated decision by checking into the Bates Motel. But even as Psychodrama goes into the dark heart of showbiz and the actor faces up to her loss of selfworth, Wilkinson’s play switches tone. ‘It’s told very wittily,’ Bruni says. ‘People in extremely uncomfortable situations can be very funny.’

And so to the inevitable question. Is Bruni ready to bump off Wilkinson? ‘No!’ she laughs. ‘He’s brilliant!’

Psychodrama, Traverse Theatre, 4–28 August, times vary.

Bloody Difficult Women follows the clash in 2016 between Theresa May, the newly nominated Conservative leader attempting to trigger Article 50 without parliamentary scrutiny, and the campaigner Gina Miller, who is fighting to thwart her. Rather than succumb to a dry account rife with legalese, Tim Walker’s political play looks for the human conflict at the centre of Brexit.

Though it was May whom Ken Clarke called a ‘bloody difficult woman’ in 2016, the title could apply to either woman. What makes them ‘bloody difficult’ for the political establishment, according to Walker, is their determination in the face of adversity. ‘A lot of men took the view that women shouldn’t rise to a high position in politics,’ he says. ‘Same as Gina Miller and working in the City. Gina also had to face an element of racism. They’re both very tough.’

May and Miller share quite a bit in common when you dig down into it, Walker ventures. ‘They both are very patriotic and believe in their country,’ he says. May was also once a Remainer, despite landing a role as one of Brexit’s key architects. ‘I think in any other situation, Miller and May could have been great friends.’

The polarising nature of Brexit (and the benefit of hindsight) lends itself well to a good versus bad plot, but Walker has resisted that line. ‘It was tempting to really go for the jugular with May and make Gina the perfect heroine. But the fact is, life’s more complicated than that.’ Besides, both have a bigger enemy. Former Daily Mail editor Paul Dacre represents the toxic power structure in Westminster and the media, which simultaneously holds May hostage and paints Miller as an enemy of the people. ‘The Daily Mail, in particular, has a hold over the Conservative Party,’ says Walker. ‘So where does the power lie? I would argue it does not lie in Downing Street. It lies in the Daily Mail editor’s office.’

Although the play’s original headlinegrabbing moments took place in the courtroom, Walker seeks drama in more private settings. He finds it at home with Miller and her husband Alan; in a junior reporter fawning for Dacre’s approval in his office; and between May’s civil servants (one hopelessly lusts after the other, which for Walker is emblematic of the ‘impossible dream’ that was Brexit). ‘Somebody said to me, “your play is essentially about doomed and tragic relationships”. It all comes down to humanity. It’s why we screw everything up.’

Bloody Difficult Women, Assembly Rooms, 3–28 August, 2.30pm. Six years after the referendum that divided this nation, Brexit is still a fresh wound for many. Becca Inglis chats to Tim Walker about his new play which focuses on two highprofile women at the heart of this political turmoil

NEVER GONNA GIVE EU UP

FRINGE

IN THE WEEDS

‘In The Weeds was commissioned by An Tobar and Mull Theatre specifically to speak to our Hebridean island home,’ explains producer Mark Iles. ‘The play is woven through with folk and ghost stories from Scotland and Japan, and the connections between them.’ Following the story of a man hunting a sea monster on a remote Hebridean island, and who begins to suspect his lover might be a mythical being, the work comes from a company dedicated to expressing the identity of place.

‘Our location defines the work we choose to make,’ says Iles. ‘In The Weeds, in particular, draws on the importance of the natural environment in shaping our day-to-day lives, and on the Gaelic notion of “dúthchas”: a shared responsibility for our place and its people that we all hold.’ With a Japanese protagonist, Kazumi, the show recognises global interconnection in a mystery that is both gothic and distinctively Scottish.

‘And more than Scottish: Hebridean,’ Iles adds. ‘The design of the piece evokes that essence of Scottish islands beautifully; all water and mist and natural magic. The script draws on Scottish folk tales and even the score is built from “found sound”, recordings made of the natural environment of Mull woven together in an eerie, visceral soundscape.’ Yet this is no mere tourist advert. ‘There’s wit and rage and complexity and grime,’ he concludes. Between a mystical past and a contemporary dynamism, In The Weeds brings Mull to Edinburgh in all its beauty and depth. (Gareth K Vile)

n Summerhall, 3–28 August, 1.10pm.

FRINGE

BLOOD HARMONY

There was a time when it was hard to pin down ThickSkin to one location. Its founding directors had bases in Glasgow, London and Manchester, and several of its shows had strong Scottish pedigrees: Davey Anderson wrote Blackout and The Static, Kieran Hurley and Julia Taudevin penned Chalk Farm, and Nicola McCartney and Dritan Kastrati gave us How Not To Drown. Now the company has settled in the north of England, but its commitment to what it calls ‘young, new and diverse’ audiences, not to mention its love of the physical and cinematic, remains. Written by Welsh playwright Matthew Bulgo, Blood Harmony is a study in grief as three twentysomething sisters gather in the family home for their mother’s funeral. Despite their urge to flee, they’re drawn together by shared memories while all face a turning point in life. Offsetting their meditations on living it up, holding down a career and staying at home, the three actors give harmonious renditions of an indie-folk score by The Staves. Also by the same company is the engaging Eavesdropping: Walk This Play, a headphone-guided tour of Tollcross and The Meadows by Hannah Lavery and Sarah MacGillivray, returning after its debut last year. (Mark Fisher) n Blood Harmony, Traverse Theatre, 2–28 August, times vary; Eavesdropping: Walk This Play, city centre, 5–28 August, 11.15am, 2.15pm, 6.45pm.

FRINGE

LIGHTWEIGHT

Amie Enriquez’s one-woman show explores several important themes: eating disorders, post-9/11 New York and what she calls ‘toxic positivity . . . that puts immense pressure on a person to bury their true feelings and put on a façade to pacify others.’ Having won best debut at New York’s United Solo Theatre Festival last year, Enriquez hopes Edinburgh audiences will gain a new perspective on anorexia ‘by hearing it from someone on the inside of the experience’ in a show that combines humour and seriousness.

While creating the piece and finding herself ‘trying to turn such dark subject matter into a comedy’, Enriquez admits that she struggled with imposter syndrome, until ‘I realised that I had every right to tell this story because it is my story!’ Recognising the relationship between personal experience and the public trauma of 9/11, her script offers an examination of social and intimate anxiety.

‘Every time I perform, it is absolutely cathartic,’ Enriquez says. ‘As soon as I step onto that stage, it is this incredible out-ofbody experience. It’s as if the younger me who was sick, dying and starving herself is in the front row thinking, “if that’s the future me, then I guess it’s worth living for”.’ (Gareth K Vile) n Underbelly George Square, 3–29 August, 2.50pm.

FRINGE

BROWN BOYS SWIM

Mohsen and Kash stand on the precipice of adulthood in Karim Khan’s Brown Boys Swim, which imbues the comingof-age trope (seen in classics like Stand By Me) with a distinctly Islamic teenagedom. Jokes about pubic hair, crushes on teachers and Snapchat mingle with halal Haribo, visits to the mosque and agitations in public spaces (nowhere more so than the local swimming pool).

‘I think swimming pools are in some ways microcosmic of other public spaces which might feel just as racist,’ says Khan. ‘There’s something intensely personal, and at times uncomfortable, about your body sharing the same water as someone else, which reveals prejudices and biases one might not ever be fully aware of.’

Swimming pools have long been political arenas. In the United States, they were once heavily segregated; even after the Civil Rights Act, municipal-owned pools found ways to bar African-American communities. ‘That formed a vital historical basis for the play,’ continues Khan. ‘More presently, I was intrigued by the way Muslim women are banned from wearing burkinis in France.’

Having secured an invitation to their classmates’ birthday pool party, Mohsen and Kash face another problem: neither knows how to swim. As they help each other learn to float, kick and hold their breath, their time in the water reveals questions about racism and their own Islamic identity. ‘The show is full of fun and humour of a uniquely South-Asian Muslim friendship, with culturally specific details and in-jokes,’ insists Khan. ‘Islam connects and unifies them and forms a crucial part of who they are as individuals and as friends.’ (Becca Inglis)

n Pleasance Dome, 3–28 August, 2.30pm.

Unhappy ghosts, disability rights and dodgy dictators are all in play with this selection of upcoming staged treats

PROJECT DICTATOR

Authoritarianism is always rife for a stiff poke in the eye, and Rhum & Clay deliver it firmly with this clowning satire which considers how you create art when freedom is curtailed. n Pleasance Courtyard, 3–26 August, 3.30pm.

THE STONES

From Signal House comes a story of guilt and retribution written by Kit Brookman and soloperformed by Luke Mullins. n Assembly Roxy, 8–29 August, 12.30pm.

Two productions from the student company marking their tenth year at the Fringe, as they unleash Our Teacher’s A Troll and The Hound Of The Baskervilles. n theSpace On North Bridge/On The Mile, 8–13 August, times vary.

THE LAST RETURN

A group queue to get their ticket to the hottest show in town. Sounds simple. But an engrossing battle over territory ensues with peace and conflict rubbing against each other. n Traverse Theatre, 4–28 August, times vary.

TINTED

Being visually impaired is not a flaw, even if some people treat it that way. But, in this new play by activist Amy Bethan Evans, when you’re disabled, the lines of consent can get blurred. n Gilded Balloon Patter Hoose, 3–28 August, 12.20pm.

PUSH (and bottom from left), Ghost Therapy, ETC’s Our Teacher’s A Troll, Tinted THEATRE HIGHLIGHTS

GHOST THERAPY

Can a medic called Dr Soul really help ghosts and ghouls find some inner peace? Find out in this family-friendly caper. n ZOO Playground, 5–13 August, 11.50am, 7.20pm.

PICTURE: THE OTHER RICHARD

PUSH

A one-woman look at non-maternal instincts in this new production from the acclaimed Popelei Theatre whose past projects include Manuelita and 100 Years. n Pleasance Courtyard, 3–29 August, 2pm.

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FESTIVAL HOT SHOTS

She helped lift spirits during lockdown by pouring some gags at the online Covid Arms but Kiri Pritchard-McLean is back on a live stage now to entertain the punters at Monkey Barrel all month. She’ll be delivering Home Truths for thirsty comedy fans.

That cheeky fox Basil Brush has got himself dressed for the occasion before bringing two shows to the Fringe. Gilded Balloon Teviot will be his den during August for a family show as well as a more grown-up version. It’s boom (boom) time for Baz.