{THEATRE} Reviews
I HOPE MY HEART GOES FIRST Remarkable young company delves into matters of the heart ●●●●●
If you want to know what it feels like to watch this show, you could do worse than to listen to the song from whose lyrics it takes its title – Cardiff indie-poppers Los Campesinos’ ‘We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed’ – a four-minute scrunched-up ball of cynicism and bounce, self-consciousness and devil- may-care recklessness, spat out cliché and riveting, unadorned frankness. Length aside, all of the above applies to this show about matters of the heart from Glasgow’s Junction 25, now much fêted makers of devised theatre about the world as real teenagers see it.
The company was born out of a desire to see young people represented in the contemporary performance world, and the result is a performance possessed of a rare naturalness and ease. It has a workshoppy feel too – the same sequences are repeated over and again with subtle differences, people butt in when someone’s getting carried away, and a light-hearted camaraderie underlies the whole thing. This is a show about the heart, and it runs the gamut from
physical sequences portraying a young couple’s magnetic push and pull, to a profound monologue about maternal love, to facts about the physiology of the organ, to liberal (and gleeful) use of squashed tomatoes. The performers take knowing swipes at teenagers and their ways – and why not, when everyone else can and does – and neatly skewer the clichés from film and music that come to stand in for how we really feel, at the same time offering a tip of the hat to the way they help us work out exactly that.
Characterised most of all by remarkable insight, keen wit and youthful energy, I Hope My Heart Goes First contains truths about growing up that anyone who’s tried it can relate to, and crucially reminds us that it’s a process that we’re all, to some extent, still clumsily engaged in. (Laura Ennor) ■ St George’s West, 225 7001, until 16 Aug, 2pm, also 24 Aug, 8.30pm, £10 (£8).
L L E B P M A C D R A H C R
I
SHYLOCK Behind the mask of Shakespeare’s Jew ●●●●● SCARY GORGEOUS Witty performances explore the difficulties of being a ‘normal’ girl ●●●●●
A SLOW AIR Nationhood explored and deplored ●●●●●
L A V I T S E F
In a festival overflowing with one-actor shows, Gareth Armstrong’s Shylock, performed by Guy Masterson – a much-loved master of the Fringe monodrama – stands out as a work of real quality. The script, which is offered to us by the character of Tubal (Shylock’s Jewish friend in The Merchant of Venice), is a carefully considered combination of research and performed excerpts from both the Bard’s play and, its predecessor, Christopher Marlowe’s notorious drama The Jew of Malta. Played in front of simple canvases which are covered with the word ‘Jew’ in various languages, the piece (which is also directed by Armstrong) is a powerful explanation of, and statement against, anti- Semitism. However, Masterson’s Tubal has such physicality, intellectual sophistication and bleak humour that the show is never in danger of toppling from theatre into lecture. Indeed, when the actor dons the hooked-nosed mask and ginger wig which characterised Jews on the Renaissance stage (as Judas was believed to have been red-haired), it is as shocking a moment of pure theatre as one is likely to experience at this year’s Fringe. (Mark Brown) ■ Assembly Hall, 623 3030, until 29 Aug (not 15), 3.45pm, £12.50–£14 (£11.50–£12).
80 THE LIST 11–18 Aug 2011
2010 Fringe First winners RashDash ask why girls allow themselves to be defined by their sexual prowess in the mess that is modern femininity. Two classic ‘frenemies’ and bandmates, Helen and Abbi, demonstrate the difficulty of being a ‘normal’ young woman in a Loaded/Nuts-loving society, each pushing themselves outside their comfort zone to do things they believe are attractive to guys and compete for validation through the attention of men.
Songs and sections of drama between the two
girls are interspersed with dance segments portraying elements of the story, such as the competitive nature of their friendship or sex itself. The backing band provides instrumentation for the acted scenes, loaded with wry, observational humour. A final scene involving Pussycat Dolls club-style
sailor girl outfits questions whether this is something women do because they want to, or whether they believe it is the only thing they think they can do to get noticed by men. It’s a witty performance that never preaches to its audience. (Lauren Mayberry) ■ Bedlam Theatre, 225 9893, until 20 Aug (not 14), 9pm, £10 (£8).
In David Harrower’s new play a middle-aged builder (Lewis Howden) is provoked into reflections about his estranged sister (the performer’s real-life sister Kathryn Howden) by the visit of her taciturn, recalcitrant 21-year-old son. The siblings launch into duelling monologues, uncovering the bitter rancorous row about family loyalty, money and relationship to Scottish culture itself that has caused their long separation. Both are debilitated by a willingness to bury slights
and allow them to fester unspoken that Harrower sees as a tendency in Scottish identity. Meantime the text boasts a couple of brilliant
character studies in the artisan entrepreneur who has never quite made it beyond petty economic anxieties and his sister, whose feckless, resolute Holly Golightly nonconformity is bound by a repressive desire never to leave Edinburgh. At the centre, there’s a brilliant, subtle authenticity to the sibling performers, who between them play out a breathtaking high-scoring draw of vast and entrancing emotional power. Highly recommended. (Steve Cramer) ■ Traverse Theatre, 228 1404, until 21 Aug (not 15), times vary, £15–£17 (£11–£12).