FESTIVAL THEATRE | Reviews
Y L L E K R E D N A X E L A
CAPE WRATH Intimate and heartfelt show set on a minibus ●●●●●
‘It’s not compulsory but if you want a more authentic experience you’re welcome to buckle up’, says Alexander Kelly as 12 audience members clamber onboard a minibus outside St Stephen’s Church. The bus doesn’t move an inch in the next hour but nevertheless Kelly takes us on a (less literal) journey, telling the story of how he retraced his grandfather’s footsteps on a trip from the Midlands to the most north-westerly point of the UK mainland, Cape Wrath. Produced by Sheffield theatre company Third Angel, Cape Wrath is in part a love letter to journey-making, in particular the sort of long haul bus rides across Britain that are filled with chatty bus drivers, fleeting stops at service stations and unexpected conversations with fellow passengers. It’s also a gentle look at the stories we tell our families. In following his grandfather’s footsteps Kelly finds that it couldn’t have happened quite as it was described to him, revealing that even those close to us have inner lives we may not know about.
Kelly aids his storytelling with a few nicely-judged moments
of interactivity (we won’t give them away but chocolate is involved at one point). He’s an amiable and engaging host and the story is simply and honestly told. This is an intimate and heartfelt performance with a little sprinkling of nostalgia. It treasures the small joys of travelling and the memories we hold of those close to us who have passed away. Overall it’s a little slight and at times has the air of a radio
play about it, but it’s so packed with charm that the hour zips by, just as a bus journey with good company should do. (Gail Tolley) ■ St Stephen’s, 558 3047, until 24 Aug (not 19), 2pm & 3.30pm, £11(£8).
N A N R E T C M N E T S R K
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WOT? NO FISH! A family history retold ●●●●●
FISTS OF SULFUR A pugilist reflects on his past ●●●●● CHILDREN OF MINE Dark tragedy retold at screaming pitch ●●●●●
Danny Braverman is the perfect host, welcoming us to his lecture theatre with a fishball, passing round the accompanying beetroot and horseradish sauce. He explains that this condiment is traditional in Jewish culture and that it sums up Jewish history, being bitter, sweet and indelible. With that comparison in mind, Braverman talks
us through a box of family heirlooms. Most of these treasures are wage packets illustrated by his uncle, Ab Solomons, and given to his wife Celie over their 50-odd year marriage. These are poignant, revealing, sometimes mildly saucy, always enormously affectionate. Braverman uses them to tie up several extraordinary family coincidences while keeping the food metaphor bubbling under the surface.
As a boxer leaves the ring from a rare defeat, he looks back on the traumatic events which changed his life. As a child, he was taken from his family and forced to work down the mines with his brother, mining sulphur in dangerous conditions.
Written, directed and performed by Maurizio Lombardi, Fists of Sulfur doesn’t pull any punches in evoking two brutal worlds. The toughness of boxing is a familiar subject, but the plight of the ‘carusi’, children forced into work at the start of the 1900s, is less familiar territory, and Lombardi tackles it with zeal. Clad only in a loincloth, he sits under a wooden table, lit by candlelight, and creates an intense picture of how a community willingly allowed their children to be exploited for material gain.
As illustrated lectures go, this is a great one: The weakness here is in the language;
cleverly constructed, perfectly paced: it has the feeling of a visit to Braverman’s Dalston home for a slide show and kosher snacks. But while it is enchanting and moving, it would have been good to see more drama from the founder of the radical Bread and Circuses Theatre Company. And perhaps less fish. (Anna Burnside) ■ Summerhall, 0845 874 3001, until 25 Aug (not 20), 3pm, £12 (£10). describing the sea as ‘where stars and anchovies shine together’ demonstrates that not all the poetry in the original Italian dialect translates poignantly into English. With a little more work on the text, Fists of Sulfur could speak to a wider audience yet. (Eddie Harrison) ■ Zoo Southside, 662 6892, Until 26 Aug (not 21), 8.30pm, £8 (£6).
76 THE LIST FESTIVAL 15–26 Aug 2013
Aberfan, South Wales, 1966: 116 children die when a heap of colliery debris slides downhill and buries Pantglas Junior School. Mark Jermin’s angry theatre piece charts the traumatic 24 hours when tragedy struck, with exceptionally polished performances from nine young Welsh actors, who combine narration, characterisation, singing and movement in an evocative hymn to those lost. They’re extremely well drilled and bristling with energy, and it’s hard not to be bowled over by the sheer power of their delivery.
It’s a shame, then, that their passion wasn’t harnessed in a more imaginative, thoughtful way. We’re told rather than shown most of the day’s events, too often by the whole group in a relentlessly aggressive unison.
The ever-increasing grief is mostly articulated at a screamingly high level of intensity. And although there are brief moments of poetry and reflection – the physical interludes, though a bit opaque, come as welcome breaks from the surrounding anguish – they’re too few to give the show the light and shade it needs. It’s a sadly missed opportunity, given the commitment and striking abilities of the performers. (David Kettle) ■ Venue 13, 07074 201313, until 24 Aug, £8 (£6).