FESTIVAL COMEDY | Reviews
THE PIN: BACKSTAGE Duo combine like a dream in latest innovative delight ●●●●●
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In the same room where Joseph Morpurgo last year went all meta in Hammerhead with his after-show Q&A session, The Pin pair of Alex Owen and Ben Ashenden deliver a similarly postmodern treat. The conceit for Backstage is that they are the support act for a more seasoned twosome of old-school campaigners, Philip and Robin. After doing their warm-up, a typically Pin-like ten minutes of sketches featuring a superb array of communication breakdowns, they go backstage to ponder their existence, wondering if they will ever be the main attractions.
A large curtain becomes the dividing line between onstage and behind-the-scenes. As you can easily imagine, the seams between those two worlds begin to slowly fray until the lines are not so much blurred as totally obliterated with Philip and Robin making their presence known while Ashenden and Owen race around to keep up with themselves and their alter egos. But which pairing will end up being onstage at the end?
The laying out of this meta construct, impressive as it is, could
only really take this show so far. Ashenden and Owen’s subtly brilliant chemistry and the routines they concoct are the things that really make a Pin show stick. And here the gags and skits are excellent, with a confusing job advert, a three-page script with the middle page missing, and the reading of a new Scandi drama all involved. When something goes wrong (it always does), it’s mainly down to a ‘harmless mix-up’.
While there’s not so much of the obvious double-act trope where one member is trying to undermine the other, it’s still clear that Ashenden is portraying the more clinical, mature half to Owen’s giggly, naïve 50 percenter. And as a totality in Backstage, their writing and performances combine like a dream. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, until 27 Aug (not 11), 8pm, £9.50– £12.50 (£8.50–£11).
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: P H O T O D A L L A S B L A N D
LOU SANDERS: SHAME PIG Punchy show without boundaries ●●●●●
LAURA LEXX: TRYING An hour about depression that lifts the spirits ●●●●● GARRY STARR PERFORMS EVERYTHING A ballsy interactive affair ●●●●●
Shame isn’t healthy. It weighs a person down and contributes to deep-rooted mental and self-esteem issues. So says Lou Sanders, whose lunchtime show has her sharing some of the great misadventures of her life. Sex is a popular topic (which means we get some wonderful turns of phrase of which ‘stunning fellatio’ is a favourite) as is biting her friends (well, nobody’s perfect) and drinking (in which we find out why Sanders is teetotal). Shame Pig is a show without any boundaries in
which Sanders takes her less proud moments and owns them, drawing a line in the sand between embarrassment (a temporary, fleeting sensation) and shame with its damaging permanence. Getting the mortifying moments out in the open is empowering, and thanks to Sanders’ punchy writing and commanding delivery, it’s something today’s audience can get behind too. It’s got a cathartic air, but Shame Pig never deviates
from being silly. Sanders’ labia is discussed quite extensively; it’s a recurring punchline and the comic’s secret weapon. She’s still ironing a couple of creases out but Sanders wields a confident stage presence that’s made of tough stuff. (Craig Angus) ■ Monkey Barrel, until 26 Aug (not 15), 12.30pm, £5 in advance or donations at the venue.
54 THE LIST FESTIVAL 8–15 Aug 2018
There’s a lot of reminiscing about the late 80s and early 90s going on at the beginning of Laura Lexx’s new show, Trying. But don’t worry, this is not just some flaccid rose-tinted ‘do you remember when’ Peter Kay-lite musings (though for a moment it does threaten to go down that road), it’s a narrative means of setting up the story of a recent family camping holiday (just like the old days) which offers a joyous comfort in the midst of her anxious existence. Mental health is right at the heart of Laura Lexx’s
new show, as she contemplates her own depression in the context of trying to start a family. That turns out to be a monthly cycle of frustration and anguish as she rails bitterly at those who seem to get pregnant by just glancing at their partner. Trying is a lot funnier than it might be sounding here
(though her description of suffering a kind of post- natal depression without having a small human to look after is very sad stuff), with her comparisons of Lush workers and miners, and her surreal experience in the make-up department of a high-street store making for delightful setpieces. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Gilded Balloon Teviot, until 26 Aug (not 15), 5.15pm, £8.50–£9.50 (£7.50–£8.50).
With his shock of curly hair, Elizabethan ruff, leather jacket and way-too-prominent crotch area, Garry Starr (aka the Gaulier-trained Damien Warren-Smith) certainly cuts a striking figure. Chucking out some wildly exaggerated movements and outlandish gestures, this Australian ac-tor has one simple ambition: to change the pitiful landscape of theatre. So, this hour showcases Starr’s all-consuming
talents in everything from ballet to Pinter, butoh to Wicked. This might ultimately be a one-man mission, but help is required in the guise of continuous audience participation. While there are moments here that on other nights might have the picked-upon wanting to curl up and die, this particular crowd is dotted with extroverts who are very game for a laugh. And no matter what Starr puts them through, this malaprop-heavy character is never more committed to a cause than when it comes to trashing his own dignity. The RSC may have shunned this inspirational if flawed creative type, but Stratford-upon-Avon’s loss is Edinburgh’s gain. Garry Starr Performs Everything is a brazen and often hilarious treat with jeopardy written into every scene. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Underbelly Cowgate, until 26 Aug (not 13), 8.10pm, £10–£11 (£9–£10).