BoxedIn

Theatre Presents: Symbiosis

HHHH

VENUE: Pleasance Pop-Up: Dynamic Earth

TIME: 2:45pm – 3:45pm, 2–26

Aug, not 6, 13, 20

TICKETS: £5

Charmaine Hiller’s wee gem of a poetry-driven, environmentallyconscious dance solo is a good example of how the Fringe can lead us to make unexpected discoveries of young talent in an unusual location.

The setting is The Greenhouse, a pop-up venue overseen by The Pleasance and situated, fittingly, just beside the entrance to Dynamic Earth at the bottom of Holyrood Road. The Greenhouse is, essentially, a shed and the ethos behind it is sustainability.

The cosy little structure uses recycled and reclaimed materials, including an opaque plastic roof that lets in natural light. Hiller dances inside it on dried grass, bits of which cling to her simple, two-piece

Shower Scene

HHH

VENUE: ZOO Playground

TIME: 5:45pm – 6:35pm, 2–26 Aug

TICKETS: £8 costume. She’s a sturdy, expressive mover, sensitive to her surroundings without at any point acknowledging our presence in the intimate space. But that’s fitting, too, as what Hiller is doing is thoughtfully embodying internal consciousness. She dances in a kind of rapture, responding to a mainly instrumental soundtrack that alternates with recordings of her self-delivered autobiographical poetry.

A paddling pool is all that is stopping a metal shower construction from flooding the stage. Bathing in the middle of this is performer Chloe Mantripp – the great unwashed. Shower Scene is her one-woman show about sex work and climate change.

She’s a good writer, observant and emotionally-nuanced, among whose subjects are memory, romance, grief, solitude and the sensations of nature. Her dancing is likewise nicely-detailed and assured.

Initially I wonder if Hiller’s choreography is perhaps too repetitive, and if she needs to expand her kinetic vocabulary by maybe introducing more abrasion into it. By the end of her rather humble, half-hour show I’ve revised that early impression, Ultimately I leave it pleased and grateful for the journey on which shes taken both herself and me. ✏ Donald Hutera

The destruction of the environment, be it one’s body or planet, is a painful thing. Through the eyes of a sex worker we see the struggle for survival and control over these bodies. She uses physical theatre, storytelling and dance to expose the parallels between the irreversible damage done to both. Where there is a metal structure, there is dance.

With some innovative theatre tricks and acrobatic skill, Mantripp delivers a memorable show – at one point making use of a condom to simulate an elderly man’s heart attack. Billed as a dark comedy, Shower Scene has a jet black humour running through its vains.

There is a vivid image created by Mantripp of a body in pain, full of parasites that have overrun the system. For her the body feels alien, unhealthy and decomposing in real time. She begs to be unborn.

The dissection of the body doesn’t satisfy an audience for long and the interjecting songs feel largely out of place. Shower Scene has an interesting premise but lacks the bite and shock that it needs to provide. ✏

James McColl

Taiwan Season: Monster

Hhh

VENUE: Dance Base

TIME: 5:15pm – 5:55pm, various dates between 2 Aug and 25 Aug

TICKETS: £13

The set is being assembled when the audience enters the dance studio – it takes about five more minutes. Monster literally begins as a work in progress.

As Yen-Cheng Liu’s voice blares out from the horn loudspeakers, a haze descends over the stage. The masked figure of Yu-Fan Liu holds a microphone to a radio and Gloria Gaynor chimes out. It’s a confusing deluge of thought, a mandate to survive that repeatedly disappears and re-emerges.

Monster proceeds without the need to rush or the pressure to follow a prescribed narrative. YenCheng’s movement has a fluid— almost lackadaisical—nonchalance

Filament

Hhh

VENUE: Underbelly’s Circus Hub on the Meadows

TIME: 5pm – 6:10pm, 3–24 Aug, not 7, 12, 19

TICKETS: £17 – £18

Featuring an all-star cast of circus performers from across the world, there’s a lot to like in this youthful, sexy piece about the trials and tribulations of growing up and finding love. In particular, it’s the mood this young team create, and the charismatic characterisations that sell it. Growing up is hard.

We get everything far too that slowly morphs with lithe purpose. But it doesn’t match the pace of Yen-Cheng’s sound design, which works the Monster soundscape into a frenzy.

All the while, Yu-Fan sits motionless in the background. As Yen-Cheng attempts animality with a mystery wrapped sphere, the masked presence mimics the audience – a creative voyeur unable to pierce Monster’s conceptual bubble. There are intermittent glimpses buoyed by Jui-Hsuan Tseng’s lighting design, as the mystery sphere becomes a glitter wrong—we’re too shy, too anxious, not strong enough or, in a nice circus twist, too bendy—for anyone to love us. And yet, somehow, we muddle through.

As you might expect, it’s supported by a number of thrilling set pieces. Of note: Tom Ball’s beautiful expression of anxiety, precariously clinging to the static trapeze; Yammel Rodriguez on aerial strap, expressing the thrill of letting go emotionally; Allison Scheiler’s balletic contortions. Jess Mews fumbles a couple of times with the hula hoops, but is so charismatic as an angry young adult that she sells it all winningly.

But, it’s a bit baggy. Long expositional sections—a number of scenes involve only a mimed con- ball and reflects brilliance around the studio. And as Yen-Cheng slowly sheds his costume, there is a snippet where the audience can intimately engage with the performer. But these connections are few and far between.

Monster’s inconclusive ending is a brave creative choice, one that keeps the audience surmising long after leaving. Is frustration the best emotion to end this confusing show? At least it evokes feeling, which is too often lacking throughout the production.

✏ Daniel Perks

versation, shrugged shoulders or smartphone check in, #YOLO—aim to tell the story beat-by-beat, but do so unclearly. And, besides, the story is general enough that there’s no need for this granular narration.

The ‘80s theme is a bit of a red herring, too. My favourite tunes from the decade do not include St Vincent, Toni Braxton or LCD Soundsystem. And despite claiming to upset the conventions of circus, it feels a bit clumsy to see a (female) hula hooper straight after a (male) Cyr wheel act. There’s plenty of troupes in this year’s programme holding up circus’ gender traditions for examination. The cast could have fun with that. And could cut out at least 10 mins work for themselves here. ✏ Evan

Beswick