{THEATRE} Reviews
WHAT REMAINS Plenty of creep, not enough deep ●●●●●
There is something in all of us that relishes a scary story, and Ben Harrison’s production for Grid Iron certainly doesn’t stint in this regard. Set at the medical school of Edinburgh University, this piece alludes ceaselessly through music and visuals to pop-cultural movie frighteners from Halloween to The Innocents, providing much rich fare for the horror movie buff.
In it, David Paul Jones’ deranged piano maestro makes for a splendid grimacing, sneering high camp baroque villain, flitting through the successive site-specific locales as a menacing shadowy presence, muttering the occasional injunction to we, his piano student audience. Among the displays of old bones and fairground ghost train devices, musical instruments are presented as torture devices. Meanwhile, a sub plot involving an abducted child, tortured by a madman in a music conservatoire is hinted at, but not quite realised.
Everything from the grim memento mori of bones and pictures of long dead posh people, to the moment where the audience is literally put to bed in a grim dormitory and left to answer the swelling existential question posed by the piece’s title on a form, adds to the immersive character of the piece. But it’s hard to say to what purpose. This production seems to imitate genre without making any real point about it, which feels disappointing for a company of Grid Iron’s unquestioned quality. So, too, given that such art forms as the horror film have contributed far more profoundly to our culture than you might expect, it’s sad that little has gone into elucidating this fact. That said, the recompense comes in Jones’ musical contributions and the meticulous presentation of the installations, which will not leave you thinking very deeply, but will certainly prove equal to the ticket price. (Steve Cramer) ■ Traverse @ Edinburgh University Medical School Anatomy Department, 228 1404, until 28 Aug (not 15, 22), times vary, £17–£19 (£12–£13).
H T A P D E R
L A V I T S E F
TUESDAY AT TESCOS Transgender monologue that’s dressed to kill ●●●●●
Anything performed by Simon Callow comes with a certain guarantee: that you’ll be entertained, impressed by the actor’s skill, and perhaps moved to laughter and/or tears. Almost all of which Tuesday at Tescos achieves. Emmanuel Darley’s French play started life as Le Mardi à Monoprix and has now been relocated to a London suburb. It centres on Pauline, a transvestite who spends every Tuesday looking after her disapproving widowed father.
Callow cuts quite a dash in blonde wig, skirt and heels, sharing the stage with a pianist who inexplicably plays the occasional note and jots down musical thoughts on sheet music. Switching back and forth between the voices of Pauline and her gruffly spoken father, Callow takes us into the transvestite world. The questioning looks, the heartbreaking disregard she faces daily and Pauline’s desire to be seen, and loved, for who she is. Less moving than we might expect from the subject matter, but certainly entertaining, Darley’s dénouement comes from nowhere with an unexpected punch. (Kelly Apter) ■ Assembly Hall, 623 3030, until 29 Aug (not 15, 22), 2pm, £17.50–£20 (£15–£18).
84 THE LIST 11–18 Aug 2011
WHISTLE Extraordinary true-life tale ●●●●● WONDROUS FLITTING Absurdist parable doesn’t quite work ●●●●●
It’s easiest to just come out and say it: when Martin Figura was nine, his father killed his mother. Almost 50 years later, Martin’s on stage in front of us, still overwhelmed at times, but working through things; almost as a by-product, it seems, he’s created this extraordinary piece of theatre.
Based around Figura’s award-winning 2010 poetry cycle, Whistle is deceptively simple: one man on stage, performing an extended narrative poem. To his left, a projector rotates through faded family snapshots. To his right there’s an old Box Brownie camera, spot-lit and unreferred to, the conduit for recording this family’s life. Words and pictures: that’s all. The myths we make of our own histories. Figura reaches back into the past, presents
aspirational Northern English life in the 1960s using language so skilful and understated you taste what it was like without realising that’s what he’s done to you. He probes his parents’ psychologies with tenderness and humour: there’s still pain there, but Whistle isn’t about retribution, hurling blame or grief- struck indulgence. What it represents is an exceptional act of empathy. (Kirstin Innes) ■ Zoo, 662 6892, until 29 Aug (not 15, 25), 1.45pm, £7.50 (£5).
Inspired by Edinburgh College of Art teacher Ed Hollis’ book The Secret Lives of Buildings, Lyceum artistic director Mark Thomson’s first play for the Fringe since his much lauded Moving Objects is an absurdist-realist parable that doesn’t quite work. Set in modern-day Scotland, it opens with the inexplicable appearance of an ancient stone wall inside a working class home. This turns out to be the Holy House of Loreto (the dwelling in which Mary conceived Jesus, originally located in Nazareth but teleported – or flitted – to Italy 300 years ago, we’re informed via a clunky bit of exposition), the arrival of which disillusioned young lad Sam takes to herald a miracle, despite the fact that the wall has crushed and imprisoned both his parents.
Said miracle prompts Sam to leave the house(s) and go on a walking tour to fathom the meaning of it. Unfortunately, all he gets is grief, from, variously, neds, their junkie parents, his cheating girlfriend, a mad dentist and a stressed executive. It’s a well- acted show, but despite some funny lines the script isn’t strong enough to carry the interesting premise, and the conclusion is terribly trite. (Miles Fielder) ■ Traverse Theatre, 228 1404, until 28 Aug (not 15, 22), times vary, £15–£17 (£11–£12).