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list.co.uk/festival Reviews | FESTIVAL THEATRE
THE YEAR OF THE HARE Madcap romp is a biting satire on the absurdity of modern life ●●●●● A STUDY ON THE STILLNESS OF LOVE Haunting production is flawed but fascinating ●●●●●
Vatanen is a Helsinki wage-slave, putting in 12-hour days to ensure Finland’s paper production moves efficiently to the more profitable South America. Until he almost runs over a wild hare, that is, and embarks with the injured animal on a surreal, madcap journey involving magic mushrooms, hippie vets, wild dance parties and even a dark, wintry encounter with a sinister forest spirit. Based loosely on a novel by Finnish author Arto
Paasilinna and using an entirely Scottish cast, Ryhmäteatteri’s crazy romp of a show bristles with a raw, rough energy, offering bitter but savagely funny satire on everything from New Age nature lovers to the unexpected advantages of global warming. Stop for a second and its pitch-black undercurrents become all too clear – as they do in the show’s more ponderous final section, which could probably do with pruning. Performances fizz with enthusiasm, from the care-worn David McKay as long-suffering Vatanen to Kim Allan, seductive yet touchingly naïve as the subversive hare. Its metaphors are sometimes obvious, sometimes wilfully opaque, but it’s a show that provokes, entertains, and definitely has something to say. (David Kettle) ■ Pleasance Dome, 556 6550, until 31 Aug (not 24), 6.45pm, £8–£10 (£7–£9).
Disturbingly visceral and hauntingly surreal, Andre Neely’s tale of a childhood gone wrong induces a nebulous discomfort that is difficult to shake. The play’s brightest moments are its darkest.
Opening with a harrowing minute-by-minute account of a young girl’s sexual abuse at the hands of an ice-cream man, A Study on the Stillness of Love charts the tragic aftermath that drives apart a once-inseparable brother and sister. Shunning her sibling, the young girl becomes obsessed with her attacker, spending her teenage years wolfing down ice-cream to remind her of the moment they shared, waiting patiently by the phone for a call that never comes. Littered with chilling moments, the play blends black humour with a blacker story that culminates in a deeply unsettling climax.
Unfortunately, the production lacks polish: musical sequences are inelegantly incorporated and the two lead performances lack subtlety. Yet, strangely, these weaknesses somehow seem to add to the play’s nightmarish complexion. It may be rough around the edges, but this play has an intangible monstrous quality that horrifies. (Jordan Shaw) ■ ZOO Southside, 662 6892, until 22 Aug, 8.15pm, £8–£9 (£6–£7).
ONE DAY WHEN WE WERE YOUNG Generation-spanning romance ●●●●●
Given the apparent preoccupation of the Fringe with performers adapting their lives to the stage, and the proliferation of first-world problems being given detailed attention, Nick Payne’s script is a welcome return to old-fashioned storytelling. Splendid performances from Sam Underwood and Valorie Curry lift the plot from the mundane, and the study of ageing is as potent as the romantic theme. The two lovers are separated by WWII, and meet only twice again. The first time, the man’s bitter disappointment at his beloved’s apparent faithlessness pushes them apart, and it is only in the last scene, when he is beginning to experience the onset of dementia, that their love is reconciled.
The restraint and sensitivity of the script avoids
melodrama, but since many important events happen between the scenes, this is more of a gentle revelation than a fully engaging production. There is compassion for both man and woman, and a very English sensibility in their conduct, but the passion that guides them is lost in the civilised conversations. A moving script, well played with minimal staging, One Day . . . is a sentimental journey that is a polite rumination rather than overpowering romance. (Gareth K Vile) ■ Assembly George Square, 623 3030, until 31 Aug (not 24), 1.45pm, £8–£10.
PUDDLES PITY PARTY This sad clown brings joy ●●●●●
Despite his imposing physical presence and precise, expressive mime, there is more to Puddles than meets the eye. His Pity Party alternates between the sad clown’s interpretations of classic rock and audience participation interludes, building to a finale that feels like a celebration of compassion. Puddles’ cover versions find new levels of melancholy in
familiar songs: Lorde’s ‘Royals’ becomes wistful and hopeful, and Leonard Cohen’s ‘Hallelujah’ is returned to its religious majesty. In his pierrot outfit, Puddles is connecting the self pity of the spurned rock star lover, and the absurd vulnerability of the clown. This combination plunges the music deeper into misery, and exposes the detail of even over-familiar tunes.
When Puddles gets the audience involved, he delights in
them: no mockery, just a need for company and play. An older gentleman is invited to sing a solo, a young girl has a tissue throwing fight with the clown. Puddles’ obsession with Kevin Costner is revealed in the final number – which morphs into a heavy metal rock-out – but he refuses to be pitiful. By exposing his vulnerability in song and mime, he invites compassion. And his gentle attitude towards his volunteers is charming and warm. His posturings evoke Mick Jagger and other vintage rock
gods. Again, the juxtaposition with his clown make-up works not to undermine his strutting but suggest the essential sadness beneath the spectacle of male display. If the inspiration for the show appears simple – a tragic clown with a beautiful baritone – Puddles works it until he becomes an archetypal figure, an embodiment of the romantic despair that infuses so much popular romantic music. At the same time, he's fun, compassionate and an all-round entertainer. (Gareth K Vile) ■ Assembly George Square, 623 3030, until 31 Aug (not 25), 7.25pm, £13–£14 (£12–£13).
20–31 Aug 2015 THE LIST FESTIVAL 83