FESTIVAL THEATRE | Reviews
THE OBJECT LESSON Genius absurdist theatre ●●●●●
In our society of hyper-consumption and digitisation, it can be easy to lose the emotional connection which human beings have always had with the objects they have made, chosen or been given. In American performance artist Geoff Sobelle's delightful piece The Object Lesson, an astonishing array of objects, ranging from a letter to large pieces of furniture, is combined with the theatre-maker's extraordinary ingenuity and the most benign form of audience participation.
The result is a beautifully humorous and gently touching work in which narratives of human relations are recalled and re- enacted with an astonishing attention to detail. Sobelle uses, for the most part, defiantly analogue technologies – such as a tape recorder and a gramophone player – to extraordinary theatrical effect.
The American is both a disarmingly likeable performer and an impressive stage magician. His seemingly chaotic set, all cardboard boxes and apparently disordered objects, proves to be deceptively versatile. After selecting an audience member as his dinner date, he reveals, in moments, a table, a chandelier and two chairs – though his chair is, in early cinema comedy-style, an inappropriately bouncy garden lounger. It would be a crime to give away the details of the date. Suffice
it to say, it involves ice skates, dancing and a lettuce (don't tell the health and safety officer).
As the audience sits within his set, Sobelle's aesthetic seems like a gorgeous amalgam of Eugène Ionesco, Jacques Lecoq, Harold Lloyd and Herman Melville. A work of wonderful absurdism, technical genius and, ultimately, breathtaking illusionism, The Object Lesson is a brilliantly original, absolutely unmissable piece of Fringe theatre. (Mark Brown) ■ Summerhall, 560 1581, until 24 Aug (not 13, 20), 6pm, £14 (£12).
P H O T O © M A N U E L V A S O N
THE CAPONE TRILOGY: LOKI Romp with the gender swap Norse god ●●●●● SHOW OFF Social media malaise ●●●●●
THE CURING ROOM Impressive horror drama ●●●●●
The first entry Jethro Compton's Capone Trilogy is a stand-alone whirlwind of vaudeville slapstick and witty word-play.
This Loki is a woman, Lola – a showgirl embroiled in affairs of the heart and trying to escape her attraction to Chicago's seedier pleasures. Jamie Wilkes' script recalls frantic farce, with men leaping out of windows, dead nuns and incompetent policemen.
The sophisticated structure recreates the dramatic events of Lola's prenuptial night as a psychodrama: David Calvitto and Oliver Tilney switch between her various antagonists and give the action a dynamic, hilarious immediacy. Compton's vision of theatre, which incorporates
sound and an immersive, claustrophobic set, creates an intimate atmosphere: if none of the characters are sympathetic, their lives have poignancy. Despite the humour, Lola's tale is tragic and Wilkes clearly reveals how the protagonist's deceits, clever as they are, lead to her inevitable demise. In much the same way, the production uses the humour to make the final tragic ending more emotive.(Gareth K Vile) ■ C nova, 0845 260 1234, until 25 Aug, 2pm, £11.50–£13.50 (£9.50–£11.50).
82 THE LIST FESTIVAL 14–25 Aug 2014
Need to be surgically removed from your branded phone / tablet / social networking site? Figs In Wigs’ mischievous cabaret Show Off explores this modern malaise, from deadpan dance routines where they crash into each other (too busy tweeting) to stream- of-consciousness anxiety about not belonging. An impudent quintet who look like Frida Kahlo let loose in Studio 54, then dropped drunk into Oxfam, the Figs have some brilliant wordplay and real comic timing, but vocal projection is often lost, and some jokes fall flat, feeling a little underdeveloped. It’s a shame, as they have real potential and
charisma: they’re unsettling, like a gang who would steal your pocket money at school, before whipping out a handful of bank notes, cackling – particularly dead-eyed Rachel Gammon and impish Sarah Moore.
And they throw everything at this production: hula hooping to the Vengaboys; juggling; costume changes; and satirising their own inadequacies. Yet despite this energy, the show does not cohere. However, if there’s a better electro pop parody
than ‘Cilla Black Bean Sauce’ out there, I have yet to hear it. A little polish and they could be brilliant. ‘Branded search engine’ them. (Lorna Irvine) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 25 Aug, (not 19), 2.15pm, £9–£11 (£7.50–£9.50).
Seven actors performing a 90-minute drama entirely naked might draw the curious, but that isn’t even the bravest thing about this dark and at times distressing show – that accolade goes to the unflinchingly honest and unsensationalist way in which the aptly named Stripped Down Productions approach their horrific subject matter. David Ian Lee’s play, based on real events, charts
the slow descent into insanity and cannibalism of seven Soviet troops abandoned naked by their Nazi captors in a locked monastery cellar in WWII Poland. Little gory detail is left to the imagination, but Lee is also keen to highlight issues of loyalty, rank, deference, and the men’s fragmenting relationships with the strictures of their Soviet state.
Performances are vivid and convincing (especially Harvey Robinson as the tormented Sasha), even if they’re a little full-blooded for men who have been without food for over a month, and João de Sousa’s careful yet pacey direction brings out the detail in Lee’s sometimes rather wordy dialogue. It’s strong as a will-they-won’t-they thriller, and also as a more existential questioning of morality and despair. Bold, brave and powerfully disturbing. (David Kettle) ■ Pleasance Dome, 556 6550, until 25 Aug, noon, £11–£13 (£8.50–£12).
P H O T O © R E B E C C A P T T
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