{THEATRE} Reviews
MISSION DRIFT The TEAM achieve the huge size of their ambitions ●●●●●
The TEAM (Theatre of the Emerging American Moment) don’t deal in the small. Since their Fringe debut in 2005 with the Richard Nixon-fixated solo Give Up! Start Over!, their chaotic, rambunctiously-expressed subject matter has been a myth- making factory of America, the stories a country tells itself about itself. Big hopes, big dreams, big money making schemes. In Mission Drift they’re looking at the peculiar character of American capitalism, here represented by Joris and Catalina, two ferocious, fecund Dutch adolescents just off the boat in New Amsterdam, who turn themselves immortal and commence on a 400-year rampage across the country profiting off the developing country’s lust for liquor and brothels. Of course, they end up in Vegas, baby.
Still with us? This sort of high-concept personification is not unusual for the company, but Mission Drift feels like a distinct step forward. Partly because Joris and Catalina’s story is wrapped around that of Joan, a cocktail waitress in present- day Vegas, who is made redundant when the stock market forces them to close their supercasinos, and because Joan is played with grounded, very human clarity by Amber Gray; partly because this is The TEAM’s first musical.
Setting the whole enterprise to bluesy, gospel-tipped song, led by showgirl and beauty queen Miss Atomic, the razzlin’, dazzlin’, manipulative spirit of Las Vegas, the company finally achieve the huge, soaring size of their ambitions. The (collectively-done) writing is crisply poetic, and each performance sharp – composer/band-leader Heather Christian, doing double duty as husky platinum blonde sex- pot Miss Atomic is a standout, because she seems to be having the most fun. At two hours it’s overlong and could lose 20 minutes, but the whole experience is such an immersive, enthusiastically-rendered spectacle that it’s impossible not to be swept away by the sheer vavavoom. (Kirstin Innes) ■ Traverse Theatre, 228 1404, until 14 Aug, times vary, £17–£19 (£12–£13).
L A V I T S E F
SOMEWHERE BENEATH IT ALL, A SMALL FIRE BURNS STILL Monologue that’s less than straightforward ●●●●●
‘This is true.’ Comedian Phil Nichol implores you to believe in his story midway through this experimental monologue, seemingly trying to inject clarity into a deliberately fractured play from Royal Court young writer Dave Florez. Somewhere Beneath It All . . . wilfully exploits its own harrowing subject matter to play with audience expectations. In fact it’s hard to know what to believe, if anything, about Nichol’s attempt to portray Kevin, a damaged young man, infatuated with a Lithuanian waitress, struggling with oscillating impulses, both tender and violent.
This is a piece that is written for Nichol, and his wobbly route through the script’s tightly crafted wordplay consciously allows room for the person to seep through the character. But Nichol isn’t himself either – he’s a bigoted version of an already extroverted comic. The play’s title shows the two ways in which the work can be received: as compassionate and moving, or as smug poetic trickery. Nichol’s performance suggests the latter, which makes this a highly interesting but ultimately unfulfilling play. (Jonny Ensall) ■ Gilded Balloon Teviot, 662 6552, until 29 Aug (not 15), noon, £9–£10 (£8–£9).
82 THE LIST 11–18 Aug 2011
SPENT Sharp-as-a-tack agit prop satire ●●●●● THE TABLE Puppet show silliness backed up by serious skill ●●●●●
Agit prop theatre is, it seems, alive, well, and indeed thriving. An impressive exemplar exists in the shape of this sharp satire, which incorporates clowning, physical theatre and quick-witted dialogue.
Spent is a co-production by various Toronto companies that couldn’t be more timely. It focuses on two businessmen rendered suicidal by the 2008 financial crisis, but uses this pair (Ravi Jain and Adam Paolozza) as a starting point for a sprawling rogues gallery of the financial collapse. From the self-serving and sociopathic CEO of Lehman Brothers, whose indifference to the suffering he has created is produced seemingly verbatim, to a foreclosed home-owner and on through a series of media anchormen engaged in a carrion feast of coverage of the crisis, the anger of the piece is infused with humour by the grotesque characters.
The two performers display boundless energy and inventiveness in their shape shifting, and even manage a tender warmth in the finale. If just one or two pieces of mime are more about themselves than the subject matter, it’s a minor flaw in a thoroughly enjoyable piece of political theatre. (Steve Cramer) ■ Pleasance Dome, 556 6550, until 29 Aug (not 17, 23), 2,55pm, £9–£9.50 (£7.50–£8.50).
Blind Summit are a company of puppetry geeks, and the triptych of pieces here lovingly reflects that. They’re also a company with a great sense of fun, and this hour-and-a-bit sends fits of the giggles coursing through the audience (and from time to time the performers) more or less constantly.
Perhaps causing the evening to peak too early, the first and longest piece is an extended monologue from a cantankerous old puppet (three-man- operated Japanese bunraku) who lives on the titular table. It takes a confident puppeteer to draw attention to their techniques, but that’s exactly what Blind Summit do with this knowingly self-reflexive show – and they’re good enough to get away with it. Even an unplanned mishap provides space for some hilarious improvisation that only serves to show how intuitively they manipulate their creations.
Different forms of puppetry are showcased in the
remaining two parts, but common to all three are silliness and showing off in equal measure – more than matched by impressive skill and an originality that never ceases to surprise. (Laura Ennor) ■ Pleasance Dome, 556 6550, until 28 Aug (not 15), 10pm, £12–£14 (£11–£13).