LIST.CO.UK/FESTIVAL REVIEWS FESTIVAL KIDS
ANDY AND MIKE’S TICK TOCK TIME MACHINE Back to the Future meets Bill and Ted ●●●●● PETYA AND THE WOLF Subtle but fun physical storytelling ●●●●●
Although it’s probably fair to say that few, if any, of the youngsters sitting in this audience have ever heard of Back to the Future or Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, it’s a fairly safe bet their par- ents have. The laughs produced by the various ref- erences to these films certainly suggest so.
But don’t think for a minute that Andy and Mike’s Tick Tock Time Machine is a show that plays just to the grow-ups. There’s so much here for everyone – and not just the tiny ones who follow Andy Day on CBeebies. Older children are more than catered for during this hour of energetic time-travelling, that takes the intrepid duo from the Middle Ages right through to 2212. An elaborate set ensures we always know exactly
where (or more specifically when) we are, and the odd smattering of fun audience participation, cou- pled with Andy and Mike’s infectious enthusiasm, makes this one of the liveliest hours you’ll have at the kiddie Fringe. (Kelly Apter) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 19 Aug, 11am, £9–£9.50 (£8–£9).
Two Russian actors present this idiosyncratic physi- cal retelling of the familiar tale of how Peter out- smarts the hungry wolf, soundtracked by a record- ing of the Prokofiev score with English narration. Although the story is simple enough for all ages
to follow, and the whole thing runs to a neat 40 minutes, the pitch black at the beginning and semi- dark throughout, not to mention the wolf’s enigmatic menace, might be too much for the youngest of the recommended 4–99 age range.
Childlike in its chaotic naivety, the performance is driven by raggedy, simple props that fire up imaginations: furry paws and whiskers tell us that an actor is now the cat, a moustache and walking stick signify Grandad. Sometimes, the animals are even represented by scraps of string or fabric.
All this abstraction might make the story a little hard for younger kids to follow, but there’s enough gracefully executed dance and clowning around to keep it entertaining, whatever your level of under- standing.
A wordless coda to contemporary musical accom- paniment takes the abstraction – and the story – fur- ther; but if you want to test the theory that theatre for children doesn’t have to be boldly representa- tional and unsubtle, this is a great place to start. (Laura Ennor) ■ Assembly Roxy, 623 3030, until 27 Aug (not 13, 20), 10.30am, £8–£9.
DR BROWN BROWN BROWN BROWN BROWN AND HIS SINGING TIGER Mighty Boosh for quirky kids ●●●●●
An unassuming chap in a tiger-striped onesie plucks a ukelele. On the corner of the stage, a giant laundry bag is moving. From its depths emerges a pink woolly hat then safety goggles and a bushy beard. Jacket, tie, then very short white shorts and muscular legs. In socks. This, the tiger estab- lishes through the medium of plaintive song, is Dr Brown.
Dr Brown does not speak. Neither is he a real doctor. The tiger communicates with him and the
audience by asking ukelele-accompanied questions to which he grunts, gesticulates or points at a drawing. Somehow, together, we get through. When it’s time for breakfast, Dr Brown eats his banana with a knife and fork and adds pepper to
his tea. Putting on his boots requires the help of around 20 kids from the audience, in a reverse Enormous Turnip manoeuvre. At one point he rides a tiny child’s bicycle, and attempts a potentially terrifying stunt. As a game dad from the front row joins in an improvised musical number, the tiger also reveals some surprising break dancing moves. As well as captivating children (who have to be prevented from following Dr Brown when he runs
out of the tent) this show has already become a cult among kooky 20-somethings. It could easily fill a larger venue, at a 10pm slot, with girls in vintage dresses and boys in tight brown trousers fighting to lie down on the stage and be ridden over on a tiny plastic trike. At the end, after the tiger has serenaded Dr Brown back into his laundry bag, they are outside to high-five the audience as we leave. I thanked the good doctor for a hugely entertaining 50 minutes, and told the tiger that the show was grrrrrrrrrreat. (Anna Burnside) ■ Assembly George Square, 623 3030, until 26 Aug (not 13, 20), 12.45pm, £8 (£7).
MIL’S TRILLS MUSIC AND STORIES Merrily chaotic exploration of musical instru- ments ●●●●●
Never mind the kids. If you’re brave enough to lay out a big pile of shakers, tambourines and ukuleles in the front row of a Fringe space, it’s the grown-ups you’ll need to hold back. A happy rhythmic jangle is already well-established before Amelia Robinson, an amiable singer-songwriter and uke player from Brooklyn, takes to the stage to perform some lively interactive numbers, that invite us to reach for the stars and boogie on down. A merrily chaotic atmos- phere ensues.
While some of the songs open with a bit of back- ground to the instruments (including on this occa- sion, the cajón, a kind of crate-shaped percussion instrument) and there are songs involving counting and naming parts of the body, the show never feels didactic and Robinson’s rapport with the audience is warm and big sisterly rather than condescend- ing. It’s worth bearing in mind, though, that the 10.30am show is pitched at tinies (0–2) while 3-5s can get down in a slightly more sophisticated way at 11.45am. (Allan Radcliffe) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 12 Aug, 10.30am (0–2 yrs), 11.45am (3–5 yrs), £5 (£3).
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