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Reviews {THEATRE}
FREE RUN Heavily padded parkour spectacle that comes alive in the final act ●●●●●
The warning that diffuses through the auditorium is ominous. ‘What you are about to see is not restricted to the stage’. Sure enough, this is one of those Fringe shows where you’re definitely not safer in the back row. Within moments of the house lights going down the performers are readying themselves by clambering along the railings, scaling walls and leaping up and down stairs the length and breadth of the Udderbelly.
The first point to make is that the team of urban acrobats who take centre stage in this show are undoubtedly highly skilled at what they do: we can gauge that from the short routines performed here and from the big screen at the back of the stage, which show scenes of them tumbling, climbing and jumping between buildings on London’s South Bank. Yet, despite the fact that parkour is often practiced in gyms, there’s something a little unsatisfactory about seeing free running along railings indoors and over a few inoffensive obstacles rather than out in the wilds of the city. Moreover, the show itself feels somewhat thin, a few truly
enjoyable sequences set to a frenetic soundtrack padded out with filmed footage that seems inspired by anti-perspirant or trainers adverts, while the performers simply wander the stage emoting. There’s also a bizarre cops and robbers segment that ups the show’s camp quotient a few notches with its gratuitous display of smooth chests and the wearing of arm stockings.
All is forgiven in the last ten minutes, when the audience finally comes alive, clapping and whooping along to some highly impressive feats of strength and skill and daring, with each of the team given their moment to shine. It’s just a pity that this sense of excitement doesn’t extend
to the full hour. (Allan Radcliffe) ■ Udderbelly’s Pasture, 0844 545 8252, until 29 Aug (not 16, 22), 6.20pm, £15–£17 (£13.50–£15.50).
IT’S UNIFORMATION DAY 2001: A Space Odyssey got weird ●●●●●
JOHN PEEL’S SHED Intimate musings on the joy of radio ●●●●● MAN OF VALOUR Mime and punishment ●●●●●
Surreal from start to finish, It’s Uniformation Day, directed by award-winner Jamie Wood, aims to analyse ideas of happiness, human frailty and relationships in modern life. Other than that, it’s hard to say what happened. The three actors are our representatives on a strange rocket mission into space that will allow them to end it all following bad experiences with love. They must complete a series of bizarre tasks in order to decide whether life is worth living or a complete and utter waste of time. This requires a mess-load of plastic, cardboard boxes and dance moves worthy of ’90s Irish popsters B*Witched, as well as a healthy dose of audience interaction – this show is decidedly not for those who prefer to be a quiet spectator.
An enthusiastic display culminating in a dance display involving what appears to be clay phalluses (note: The List believes they were intended to be rockets, given the accompanying lyrical content but suppressed giggling did ensue), this is a performance which remains a head-scratcher even on conclusion. (Lauren Mayberry) ■ Zoo Roxy, 662 6892, until 29 Aug (not 16, 23), 2pm, £9–£10 (£7–£8).
In 2002 author John Osborne won a competition to write the best two-sentence description of John Peel’s radio show and win a box of the DJ’s records. ‘Songs you want to hear. Played by a man who wants you to hear them.’ earned Osborne the prize, and he proudly displays some of the vinyls on the floor of the faux living room he uses as his set. As he talks he glances at these albums, looking to them for reassurance as he flicks through a series of anecdotes, observations and opinions – telling jokes, creating romantic anticlimaxes, and investigating how even Scott Mills can play a meaningful role in a human’s life. His love for radio is evident and, mixed with palpable shyness, even his memory of something as recent and innocuous as receiving his first digital radio sends nostalgic shivers down the spine. Osborne’s endearingly low-key wisdom does sit alongside duller material on his own contribution to East Anglian community radio, but in a handful of his most witty and passionate moments he shows how a lifetime of tuning in to great broadcasters can teach the listener a thing or two about audience connection. (Jonny Ensall) ■ Underbelly, 0844 545 8252, until 28 Aug (not 15), 5.30pm, £9–£10.50 (£8–£9.50).
F E S T I V A L
Haven’t we been through this before? Wasn’t it some time in the ’70s we stopped being dazzled by mime artists? Didn’t we realise the means of telling a story are never as interesting as the story itself? It seems not in the case of Dublin’s Corn Exchange
which, in Paul Reid’s solo performance, goes through all the Marcel Marceau clichés you can see for free any day on the High Street. Playing Farrell, an urban Everyman, he shows us every door he walks through, every train he catches and every colleague he works alongside. That he does this with skill and precision is secondary to the familiarity of it all – and it doesn’t take long for his accompanying vocal clicks to get irritating.
All this establishes an atmosphere of such inconsequentiality that you can’t take seriously the developing story in which he takes delivery of his father’s ashes and flushes them down the toilet only to go on a video game-style hunt to retrieve them. There are latent themes about stunted father-son relationships and the indifference of big business, but nothing to convince you this is not a case of style over substance. (Mark Fisher) ■ Traverse Theatre, 228 1404, until 14 Aug, times vary, £15–£17 (£11–£12).
11–18 Aug 2011 THE LIST 79