FESTIVAL THEATRE | Reviews
P H O T O
: L E E B A X T E R
MARIE An actress gets lost in the role of Mary, Queen of Scots ●●●●●
A one-woman show about Mary, Queen of Scots sounds like the most generic of lo-fi fringe fodder, but Marie, a new play created by actress Sarah MacGillivray and director Phil Bartlett manages to dodge the expected clichés and come up with something fresh. As a play, Marie isn’t a biopic of Mary; the central character
of Marie is a Scottish actress who enjoys playing the part of the Scots queen at a regular, historically themed booze-up in a London pub. The pub itself is run by Liz and her husband Barry: as Marie’s search for acting work grows more and more frustrating, the young actress finds herself retreating into Mary’s character, and tensions begin to rise between Marie / Mary and Liz.
Confusing a stage persona with real life is nothing new; the
Oscar-winning 1947 film A Double Life features an actor who mixes up Othello’s problems with his own to tragic effect. At first, this variation on the theme seems content to make some trenchant remarks and score a few easy gags about the difficulties of a girl’s endless auditions and the problems of finding good acting work. ‘It seems that Girls Gone Wild isn’t a feminist survival show after all . . . ’ Marie laments. But MacGillivray soon gets stuck into the real drama and extracts tension from the domestic strife between Scottish Marie and English Liz, reflecting a traditional historical animosity, and she and Bartlett skillfully build the material to a Gothic, dark, and violent climax.
Marie is a free-to-enter show that’s got a lot more to offer than many costlier alternatives; with only a dress, some minimal lighting and a lot of energy, MacGillivray manages to ensnare audiences with a well-told tale, with wry observation and caustic humour giving way to a deliciously twisted story of obsession. (Eddie Harrison) ■ Laughing Horse @ The Hanover Tap, until 26 Aug (not 7, 14, 19–21), noon, free.
YOU’VE CHANGED A thoughtful and beautiful look at identity ●●●●●
SHOW ME THE MONEY An honest chat about art and commerce ●●●●● LITTLE BOY Confusing meditation on love ●●●●●
In this thought-provoking, tender and witty look at how she transitioned from Drew to Kate and the changes within the trans community over the last 14 years, Kate O’Donnell is engaging company. She doesn’t suffer fools – or trans-exclusionary radical feminists – gladly, while her dashing butler Sean Murray attends to her every whim, a stoic and deadpan comic foil. Structured around classic silent movies and icons
like Carmen Miranda and Josephine Baker, the show is divided into chapters representing misconceptions about trans lives. O’Donnell makes a poised storyteller, cheekily interacting with the audience and giving insights into the process of transitioning. The sequence with her ‘talking vagina’, set up like a carnival curio, is an inventive way of introducing a question and answer session about genital surgery, but which also serves as a pointed antidote to the prurient curiosity around gender reassignment.
The final Hollywood dance sequence, gorgeously choreographed by Lea Anderson, becomes a triumphant paean to becoming true to yourself. Glamour has rarely been so oppositional — or so fierce. (Lorna Irvine) ■ Northern Stage at Summerhall, until 26 Aug (not 9, 16, 23), 8.30 pm, £12 (£10).
86 THE LIST FESTIVAL 10–17 Aug 2017
Introducing her attitude towards money with a gentle spot of audience interaction, Paula Varjack is troubled by the British reticence about financial matters. Through a series of interviews, she attempts a conversation about the relationship between a living wage and remaining creative with the help of taxi drivers, an economist and even an arts administrator. Varjack’s onstage presence is charming: her
confession of her own privileges and the cost of this show add honesty to the meditations on the business of art. Breaking the performance into distinct and sometimes unconnected scenes, she reflects on the instability of her career, a manifesto for creativity, specific financial worries and her complex relationship with funding bodies.
Unfortunately, references to austerity ignore wider concerns: an early question about the connection between art and money is answered only vaguely, and the description of her own funding only suggests that Varjack’s anxieties are solipsistic rather than political. Even in a conversation with her father, she avoids relating the artist’s lack of wealth to non- artists’ poverty, leaving the impression of an under- developed concept hidden beneath a performance style that privileges self-interest. (Gareth K Vile) ■ Bedlam Theatre, until 13 Aug, 3.30pm, £10 (£8).
It’s never a good sign when you emerge from a show unsure of what it is you’ve just seen. Not, in the case of Little Boy from Japan’s My Complex theatre company, because of theatrical ambition, nor intellectual complexity, but because of linguistic incomprehensibility. Despite the energetic, focused performance from solo actor Yuuya Ishizone (who also wrote the show), his heavy accent and unconvincing English phrasing make a lot of what he says downright unintelligible – not helped by a sometimes unidiomatic translation of a text that was presumably originally Japanese. You end up forced to piece together the story
from fragments of Ishizone’s text, which jars with the elegance of the show’s design. What emerges, however, is the story of two brothers, and of a scientist father so successful that a whole town is built around his research. The twist in the show’s tail is effective, and casts earlier material in a whole new light, but it can’t make up for the earlier lack of clarity. There’s definite potential here for a touching, quietly horrifying meditation on love and destruction, but Little Boy needs a lot more work on its delivery if it’s to be successful. (David Kettle) ■ C royale, until 28 Aug (not 15), 4pm, £8.50–£10.50 (£6.50–£8.50).