Author: Brett Herriot

***** (5 stars)

“Such a joy! “

As a K-drama addict, I simply had to see this show: I was not disappointed, even though demons, spirits and idols failed to appear.  As anyone who has watched Mystic Pop-up Bar will know, the small orange tent-live structures [pojangmacha] that appear in the evenings and are gone by morning are a feature of night life in Seoul and many other cities in that part of the world.

There is, in truth, a small orange tent waiting for us as we come into the Studio Theatre: it’s lit up inside, but we can’t see through the awnings that stretch down to the floor.  Screens each side of the stage show us a panorama of Seoul – the masses of high-rise buildings, some offices, many flats – we can even see people at the windows of some of them.  We look down on the multi-lane highways, thronged with cars, and then swoop down to street level.  We leave the wide streets and dive into a network of tiny alleys, all startlingly clean and free from rubbish, devoid of people but thronging with tiny businesses: most of the signs are in Korean, but I spot Guinness high on a wall, and would like to slow down and browse, but no – on we must go.

And then, finally, we see a pojangmacha in front of us, slightly larger than the one on stage, but unmistakeably the same.  Jaha Koo comes on stage and silently starts getting his little bar ready for business – removing the awnings, putting the stools back on the floor, cleaning the surfaces – ready for the first customers of the night. 

The house lights go up, and Jaha comes towards us, inviting two audience members to be his customers: oh lucky Kirsty and Hugo!  They sit on the two stools and are introduced first to soju [a clear liquid not unlike vodka, 60% alcohol] and maekju, Korean beer [about 4.5%] which are mixed to create a cocktail which they sip while watching Jaha preparing their appetiser – cucumber with ssamjan sauce.  Oh how I wished I were a customer at that bar, as Hugo and Kirsty are introduced to more Korean dishes…

But this is not a Korean cooking show!

It’s a multidisciplinary meditation on home, family, memory, diaspora and displacement, adaptation and unconscious protest.  Music, song, film, animation, recorded voices, and spoken narrative intertwine to create a multilayered explanation and exploration of Jaha’s family history and personal experience of voluntary and involuntary displacement. Kimchi [including exploding kimchi] features largely, as do snails, eels, and gummy bears.  There is kindness and cruelty, friendship and ‘othering’: and so much to think about.

Food is a constant presence in Jaha’s story – familiar food reminds us of who we are and where we come from; sharing food with others can be sharing part of one’s history; and in so doing, one can feel less alone.  Going back home can simply point out how one doesn’t belong there either: perhaps almost all of us are perpetually displaced – routes have become our roots.

It’s a gentle, fascinating show which gives one much to think about.  If you knew nothing about South Korea before the show, by the end you would have had a much better idea of the country and its culture.  For me, it was a delight to spend time ‘in’ a country I’ve come to know and love. 

But the best things of all were the amazingly cute singing snail and the illuminated, animated eel…

Such a joy!  Gamsahamnida!  Thank you, Jaha Koo!

Haribo Kimchi, Edinburgh International Festival, Festival Theatre’s Studio Theatre, Runs until 24^th August for more information go to: Haribo Kimchi | Edinburgh International Festival

**** (4 stars)

“A superb performance”

I’m so glad I caught the last night of the run – it was such an enjoyable show, on so many levels.  I thought we were getting a storyteller and a musician: we got two of each!

Ailsa Dixon and Ffion Phillips are playing as we enter the library: Ailsa on the cello, Ffion on the guitar – a lively dance tune that invites us to take part in, rather than simply looking at, the performance that’s about to begin.

Back when time began…there was the old woman [cailleach] and the old man [bodach] at the mouth of the cave beside the rippling lake: she milks the deer and makes the crowdie which he shapes into tiny figures and together they carry them in the creel to the top of the mountain…

And the birds [aderyn] come: the gentle little songbirds, which take the crowdie figures from the bodach’s right hand and carry them off to the sleeping people for their dreams, and the birds of the battlefield, the eagles, crows and suchlike, who take the crowdie figures from the bodach’s left hand and carry them off to be the nightmares of the people who are tossing and turning in their beds…

Birds fill all the tales – birds big and small, noble and cunning – the tiny wren, the massive eagle, the iridescent starling and kingfisher, the subtle colouring of the wise old owl, the skeins of geese calling to each other as they cross the sky, and the redstart, now colourful but once the drabbest of the drab.

Words and music fill the tales – Welsh, Scots Gaelic and [thankfully] English – I have a tiny bit of Welsh courtesy of Duolingo and a friend who lives in Dolgellau, and much much less Gaelic thanks to a friend who lives on Islay.  The languages glint and flicker like the flames on a hearth round which the storytellers gather, flow one into the other in speech and song, adding to the richness and colour of the narrative even when you don’t know what each word means.  The music and song flow through the stories, weaving their own gentle magic too.

Birds argue who should be king; boys go hunting the wren; seven brothers turn into wild geese; news of a Welsh princess’s ill-treatment at the hand of her husband, the king of Ireland, is brought to her brother by the princess’s only friend, a starling; and the redstart gains its colourful plumage when it brings the gift of fire and warmth to humankind.

Ailsa and Ffion don’t simply take turns to tell their tales; they sell them together, swapping phrases, languages, and music as they weave their magic and hold us spellbound for the hour.  There is light and darkness, joy and deep grief; and at the end of it all the redstart returns to the cailleach and bodach, bringing warmth and light to the cave beside the rippling lake back in the day when time began…

A superb performance from both women – I’m so glad I caught their show, and wish them the very best as they move south to tell their tales elsewhere: and haste ye back to Edinburgh for next year’s Fringe, please!

Aderyn / Bird, The Fringe, Scottish Storytelling Centre, Venue 30, Run Ended, for more information go to: Aderyn / Bird | Edinburgh Festival Fringe

***** (5 stars)

“An explosive combination”

‘Twas well over twenty years ago, dear reader, that I was a volunteer at the Fringe, helping to run venue 40, aka the Quaker Meeting House.  I was sharing a room with Kathie, who said I simply had to come with her to a performance by a comedian, one Mark Thomas.  I had no idea who he was, but agreed to accompany her…

If you’d told me beforehand that I’d nearly wet myself laughing at a show about the wall the Israelis were building in Israel-Palestine, I wouldn’t have believed you: but that’s exactly what happened.  Mark, while not disguising his anger at the situation, was able to find love and life and humour – real belly-laugh humour – in the people and places he visited as he walked along that wall.  He brought the Palestinians’ plight to our attention not simply by ranting but by bringing them and their situation alive while making us laugh at its absurdity.

Ever since I started reviewing, I’ve tried to catch Mark’s shows.  I’ve not always managed it, but when I have, it’s been a memorable occasion.  Trespass; The Red Shed; Bravo Figaro!, the piece about his dad; and so many more.  And then the amazing England and Son in Summerhall a couple of years ago, in which his gobsmacking acting skills left his audiences stunned and ecstatic…  These were all masterclasses in getting your message across while wrapping it in a coating of humour which did nothing to sugar-coat the underlying truths.

Forty years on stage and how is Mark doing?  Still as angry, still as outrageous, still as funny; still as passionate about the causes he’s championing and the injustices he’s spotlighting.  He warms us up with Trump and gentrification and moves on to Farage, political parties, and so much more – all wrapped up in both a rant and a celebration of his mum’s life and a deep appreciation of the double-bind in which carers, himself and his sister included, find themselves.

As ever, there’s a lot of laughter masking a great deal of both hurt and anger: an explosive combination which makes an evening with Mark both achingly funny and deeply memorable.  I hope that many of his audience will have felt moved to do something to improve the injustices and inequalities he’s so passionate about.

Here’s to the next forty years, Mark!

Mark Thomas: 40 in Standup Years, Stand Comedy Club 1, Venue 5, Runs until 30^th August for more information go to: Mark Thomas: 40 in Stand-Up Years | Edinburgh Festival Fringe

*** (3 stars)

“Compassionate”

By an amazing coincidence, or a whacking great piece of serendipity, this show dovetails neatly with the exhibitions at the Parliament that I went to last week.  One Hundred Voices leads you on a trail through the ridiculously tortuous system that currently fails to care for the children that are in care in Scotland, during which you hear voiced many of the experiences of children and young people themselves.

Unheard voices, unbroken spirits takes these voices and brings them to life.  Both exhibition and show are rightly uncomfortable – it’s outrageous that, in a country which has promised that no child shall grow up feeling unsafe or unloved, these very children are caught up in a system in which they have no control over their lives and where they feel ignored, overlooked and unheard.

The action centres around Daisy, who has long experience of being in the care system, of loving and supporting her fellows, watching them all move on, while herself feeling unsupported and rapidly losing any hope of living up to the promise she showed as a child.  Around her are Sienna, Rachael, Lara, Ethan, and her boyfriend Matthew.  The adults with whom she interacts are mainly more interested in the system, in maintaining discipline, and punishing unruly behaviour than in attempting to work out quite why Daisy is failing to live up to the promise she showed in previous years.  There were points in the action where I could quite cheerfully have given them a piece of my mind – could they not see that all the “bad behaviour” stemmed from deep unhappiness and an inability to cope with all the crap life was flinging at Daisy and her friends?

A tragic incident leaves all Daisy’s friends completely at a loss – but there is hope.  They manage to overcome their differences and, in thinking about what Daisy might have wished to see, work towards creating a safe space where young people in care can know they are heard and have a place in which they can safely just be themselves – Daisy’s Chain.

Talia Maysey directed and produced this piece, as well as composing the music.  Massive credit to Lauren Boyle who, in writing the story of Daisy, gave a voice to herself and all the other children and young people who are care-experienced.  As she says, nobody understands the care system like the kids in care do.  Writing this show, it’s not just helped me, it has helped so many others to share their stories as well. 

It’s hard to talk about your own personal stories, especially when there’s not much knowledge surrounding it.  For so long, I felt like my voice didn’t matter.  This musical is helping me realise, there are people who do want to listen, do want to help make a change.

There’s a lot of heartfelt emotion in this piece, with songs like When the snow still felt like magic; Still waiting for a miracle; Giving up on me – all heartbreaking to listen to.  The show is double cast, and I can only imagine the effort that has gone into helping all the young cast navigate the challenges of performing on stage, let alone for their first time at the Fringe.  Not everything is perfect, but it’s all deeply felt.  Solo performing is scary, and it’s obvious that having company on stage makes things easier, but I’m well impressed with the way everyone kept going no matter what – and with no musicians on stage or conductor to help them along the way.

I hope that people who come to this show will be more compassionate towards children and young people who are in care and, if they can, do something to make their lives better.  It’s easy to criticise: it’s much harder to care, and to want to make a difference.  Let’s let Lauren/ Daisy have the final word.

“A world where every kid feels seen” is the heart of the musical and by you coming today, it has helped us feel seen.  Thank you.

Unheard Voices, Unbroken Spirits, The Fringe, Gilded Balloon Patter House, Venue 24 runs until 31^st August for more information go to: Unheard Voices, Unbroken Spirits | Edinburgh Festival Fringe