BEOWULF: THE BLOCKBUSTER The craic is strong in this one ●●●●●
A masterclass in both physical theatre and the grand tradition of Irish storytelling, Beowulf: The Blockbuster examines the father-son dynamic, put to the ultimate test when cancer comes into the equation. Swapping a proscenium arch for a neon frame,
which changes colour as the story develops, performer Bryan Burroughs portrays the smallest of small lads, nicknamed Squirt, who is sick of being bullied, struggling through school, and dealing with his builder father. The epic Anglo-Saxon poem of dragon-slaying becomes an extended metaphor for the father's terminal illness. Thus, Grendel becomes cancer, the monstrous killer. Beowulf, a superhero of sorts, is filtered through the child's fondness for 80s blockbusters Star Wars and Superman. What might have been mawkish or trite is instead a layered, profound and hilarious show – one of the finest of this year’s Fringe. It avoids easy clichés and asks fundamental questions of how to break the news of death to a family, particularly to a nine-year-old. ‘Oh, Jaysus, Dad,’ sighs the boy. ‘This isn't a tale with a moral, is it?’
Through gesticulation, mime, an array of voices and audacious, wry humour about tough Irish grandmothers telling kids to 'feck off', Burroughs' incredible monologue strikes at the core of what it is to be mortal, when adults have no easy answers. It has at its heart a tender masculinity, one that says it is okay to cry and to show affection.
It also has a really cool light sabre. (Lorna Irvine) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 24 Aug, (not 18), 12.50pm, £9–£11(£8–£10).
RED JUNGLE FOWL A school trip to Brazil goes wrong ●●●●● SIMON CALLOW IN JUVENALIA It’s the Classical Jim Davidson ●●●●●
FESTIVAL THEATRE | Reviews
MARGARET THATCHER, QUEEN OF SOHO Thatcher down to a T ●●●●●
Revisionist history has seen ex-PM Margaret Thatcher absurdly transformed after her passing into a feminist icon. But Matt Tedford – who has the Iron Lady’s braying condescension down to a T – has now provided the ultimate makeover, turning her into an unlikely drag cabaret star. The opening numbers promise much –
Bananarama's cover of ‘Venus’ with Falklands gunfire for percussion is jaw-dropping – but the exposition (Mrs T gets lost in Soho and is mistaken for a drag queen, forcing her to rethink her strategy on anti-gay law Section 28) becomes contrived pantomime, however well-intended. There are many moments to savour, though: the
Greek chorus bullet points; handing out milk, only to take it away; the patronising, deluded mannerisms of a woman increasingly out of touch with Britain's liberal society.
A group of posh, sex-starved teenagers and their uppity, vain teachers head to Brazil during the 2014 World Cup to perform A Midsummer Night’s Dream with impoverished favela children in this unlikely comedy drama from Tea for Ten Theatre company. Although writer James Huntrods and director Tom Birch claim to be drawing on their own experiences, the details seem contrived; after one of the teenagers goes missing, for instance, the group contact the local television companies for help, yet still go through with the Shakespeare performance because the funding for their trip depends on ticket sales? Such ‘square peg / round hole’ plotting would be easier to understand if the characters were fresher, or the treatment of their situation more original. Boorish, randy boys, naive girls, a Joyce Grenfell- like schoolmistress and other hoary stereotypes abound, all treated with offhand contempt, leaving the audience with little to care about.
When Simon Callow first performed Juvenal’s Satires, he was a young man. Returning to the words of the Roman poet as an older man, and as part of the theatrical establishment, he shares a respectable status and seniority with the writer. Although never quite convincing us that these satires are a direct equivalent of stand-up comedy, Callow gives a strong performance that emphasises the rough-hewn eloquence of the ancient antagonist.
Juvenal’s complaints have contemporary
resonances: he has a social conservatism that worries about gay marriage, women’s liberation and the influx of immigrants. Callow enjoys the funny foreigner voices that litter the text, and while there are moments of compassion and calm, it is the rage against changing times that is most amusing and engaging. Callow’s measured delivery lends Juvenal’s anger a thoughtfulness, and the amiable persona belies the frustration of the words. The pleasure of the show comes from Callow’s obvious charisma and his ability to invest various characters with a Dickensian surrealism. A gentle hour, perhaps too gentle, for the writer who defined comic satire for the ages. (Gareth K Vile) ■ Assembly Hall, 623 3030, until 25 Aug (not 18), 3.30pm £17.50–£20 (£15–£18).
Tedford may often lack the satirical barbs of And with four actors playing umpteen roles with
subversive acts such as Dusty Limits, but his energy and commitment, and that of his terrific backing singers, is hard to fault. It’s all uproarious, campy fun. (Lorna Irvine) ■ Assembly George Square, 623 3030, until 24 Aug, 9.10pm, £10–£13 (£9–£12). little more than a change of hat to clue the audience in on which character they’re meant to be, any on-stage energy is dissipated in high-minded but disappointingly lowbrow farce. (Eddie Harrison) ■ Just The Tonic at The Caves, 556 5375, until 24 Aug, 3.25pm, £7–£8 (£6–£7).
80 THE LIST FESTIVAL 14–25 Aug 2014