Category: Mary Woodward at the Festivals

**** (4 stars)

“Immense personal courage”

As we enter the theatre we are greeted by a ravishingly beautiful young woman in a splendidly Victorian black dress, who thanks us for coming today.

We are seated: she moves centre stage, and thanks us again for coming to the funeral.  Spotlit, draped in a transparent black veil, she moves towards the light streaming from an open door.  She raises a glowing white handkerchief and lets it fall to the ground: we are plunged into darkness.

Diana Salles demonstrates not only extraordinary physical dance and circus skills but also immense personal courage as she invites us into her world, to being to have an inkling of what it’s like to be a trans woman.  Change is an inevitable and essential part of everyone’s life, but not everyone can face up to, adapt to necessary change with such naked honesty.

The time we spend with her is full of joy and beauty, but also pain and struggle, with moments of humiliation and despair among the glitter and glamour.  Words, music, light, spectacle all make their contribution to Diana’ story: through it all her strength and determination carry her onwards.

So many incredible moments.  The whole first section, with scarlet cloths streaming around a huge hoop; Diana peeling away layers and layers of restrictive mourning clothes and finally swinging free.  Free of the restrictions of gravity, free to defy expectations and climb, plummet, twist and swing as though she had wings…  Gathering up all the scarlet cloth after it’s fallen to the ground, cradling it tenderly, caressing the wee ‘child’ in her arms…  The tensions between the feminine and masculine body language and ways of walking… The incredible grace of her feet and toes when she’s on the ground and in the air…  The clash between the pouring out of grief and the feistiness of the warrior…

The final image is the one I want to remember – Diana, now clad in a shiny pink frock with a wonderfully exuberant skirt whirls round and round, a radiant smile on her face, as rose petals fall from the ceiling.  Proud and joyful, we join her in celebrating her life and the truth she has chosen to manifest.

A standing ovation is the only possible reaction.

Delusional – I Killed a Man, Main Hall at Summerhall, (Venue 26), RUN ENDED for more information go to: https://www.edfringe.com/tickets/whats-on/delusional-i-killed-a-man

*** (3 stars)

“Extremely laudable”

I’m sorry to give this show only three stars, but I don’t feel I can give it four, much as I’d like to.  Listed under Dance, physical theatre and circus in the Fringe programme, I was not expecting to find myself in what was in effect a seminar-like consideration of the disastrous effects of the Balfour Declaration of 1917 and what actions might be taken to repair the damage it continues to do today. 

At that time, Balfour was British Home Secretary.  He stated the British Government’s support for “the establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people”.  For many people, this is the starting point of the current appalling situation in Israel/ Palestine.

It is 23 August 2045, and we start by hearing a succession of audience members read an [imagined] statement dated twenty years ago from the then [unnamed] British Prime Minister, apologizing for the UK’s part in the creation of the current Israeli regime and setting out seven concrete actions “to start a decolonial process of reparations for the Palestinian people”.  We are a committee called to evaluate the progress of the reparations and consider next steps.  To make sure we had all time to take the statement in, another set of audience members read it out loud.

On a split screen we then watched side-by-side film footage – black and white documentary footage from Balfour’s time beside colour footage of ‘contemporary’, i.e. filmed in 2045, of various actions related to the reparations.  I found there was insufficient time fully to take in quite what these actions were, apart from the renaming of a forest somewhere in Scotland – from Balfour Forest to Palestine Forest.

The ‘committee’ were then invited to propose further reparations.  It took a little while for this to get going, but suggestions started to flow.  Farah Saleh, who was leading this whole session, had already done some pretty mystifying movement during the readings of the PM’s statement: she now did more of them against a sound-montage of the audience’s suggestions, which left me even more puzzled.

The lights faded.  We thought this was the end, and applauded.  But this wasn’t the end.  We were invited to return to the present day and take a minute to discuss with a neighbour an action point we might take out into the world.  There was a further invitation to share these with the whole audience.  And then it was goodbye.

All this was extremely laudable, and I was impressed by a number of the suggestions made.  But this was not, to me, dance or physical theatre, and most certainly not circus.  I totally appreciate the need for Palestinian voices to be heard, and for Palestinian artists to be seen – but a seminar as performance art didn’t do it for me.

There was prolonged applause, so I assume the show really resonated with others present.

Balfour Reparations, Techcube 0 at Summerhall (Venue 26) for more information go to: https://www.edfringe.com/tickets/whats-on/balfour-reparations

**** (4 stars)

“multi-layered exploration”

How often does a solo cello show begin with the player onstage, rapidly devouring a Subway sub?  There’s a first time for everything, they say…

And this is how the show begins…. Yes, Karen Hall is in a long black frock, and there’s a cello case beside her – but this is not usual, is it?  But even classical musicians have to have breakfast – and while I might prefer not to start the day with a Subway sub, if it’s the cheapest way to start the day, that’s what you might have to go with.

Karen’s very chatty, telling us about herself as she munches her breakfast – four seasons playing on Glee [which I watched a while ago] and working with big names [of whom I’ve not heard] – and here she is in Edinburgh, at last.  But how did it all begin?  Why the cello?  Why keep playing?  Is it a compulsion?  A gift that won’t let you rest?  A higher calling?  Or am I just a fool, losing the rest of myself in pursuit of this one thing?

She takes her empty Sub wrapper off stage and we wonder what next… there’s an announcement from the back and Now It Begins – the first movement of JS Bach’s first suite for solo cello, and it’s wonderful.  A moment’s quiet murmur of appreciation, and then applause – for which we are rebuked, which I personally feel is a pity.  Yes, there are the classical conventions surrounding performance – seven movements to this particular suite, and you don’t applaud between them.  But if it’s good, and you enjoyed it, why not?  Especially here in Summerhall…??  Or do we have to demonstrate that we know the ‘proper’ way to conduct ourselves in this situation???

Cue an explanation of Bach’s music – it’s baroque, not classical, which means there are fewer rules, more freedom, more room for ornamentation, personal interpretation.  It’s also a lot more exposed, in performance there’s nowhere to hide…. 

Delusions and grandeur is a fascinating, multi-layered exploration of the world of the professional musician and of music itself, interwoven with the other six movements of the cello suite.  What does it mean to have / to do something you love, something you are good at?  Which comes first, the love or the ‘good at’?  Is it ‘never too late to do the thing you love?’ or will it be too late to be any good at it?  Do you need to have a backup plan for if you don’t make a success of what you think you’re good at?  

Karen’s backup plan was clowning, and she’s very good at it.  I’ve never before seen a concert frock become a clamshell in which you can hide while crouching on the chair on to which you’ve climbed; and her physical comedy is consistently very good.   She’s also extremely good at involving us in her show – at one point engaging with a software designer, and constantly referring to him thereafter.

But it’s not all fun.  Yes, it’s amusing that she removes her frock to reveal stretchy jeans and a sparkly top underneath – because of course attending a casual concert where the instrumentalists are dressed ‘just like me’ will enable me instantly to understand Brahms… but all such efforts to reach out and increase audience sizes are driven by the increasingly savage cuts to arts budgets – which in turn increase the pressure on musicians simply to survive financially.  Which comes first, the love of music or the need to pay the bills?

And then there’s the ‘did you hire me for my playing, or for my looks?’ angle – and here the jeans come off too, and the sparkly ‘frock’ is WAY too short to cover the essentials: but that’s the uniform for musicians hired by a certain company for events attended by men who just want to drink and stare and pretend to be interested in the music.  I’d never seen the cello played ‘sidesaddle’ before – usually the instrument is gripped between the player’s thighs, but here it was impossible.  Amazing to me that Karen could so calmly and play so beautifully while both legs were twisted to one side of the instrument…

There’s a whole lot more in this show which neatly balances humour with rage, passion, mental disintegration, and the seven movements of Bach’s first cello suite.  It’s a welcome relief to me to see that Karen smiles to herself at times while playing the final gigue, wrapped around her alter ego, other self, tormentor and friend, her cello. 

And then we can applaud.  Which we do gladly and enthusiastically.

Delusions and Grandeur, Red Lecture Theatre at Summerhall (Venue 26), for more information go to: https://www.edfringe.com/tickets/whats-on/delusions-and-grandeur

**** (4 stars)

“Atmospheric” 

Kirsty Law’s atmospheric show doesn’t grab us by the throat and threaten us: instead, it gently invites us on a journey though story and song in search of something even more elusive than the wild free-roaming haggis – Scotia, the spirit of Scotland.

Overheard on the way out: “that was very atmospheric” – and so it was.  Kirsty has a brilliant way with words, creating such clear pictures of the situations she’s describing that it’s almost impossible to believe that we are not there with her on the haar-gripped, misty quays of Leith or magically crossing a wide river in an enchanted wee boat to meet who knows what on the other side…

And it’s not just tales, brilliant though they are.  Snatches of song weave their way through her narrative as she goes in quest of that elusive being Scotia, whose age, appearance and even gender are constantly changing.  Fascinating sound-loops are created with just a few notes on the guitar [and that magic box and foot-pedal] and provide unusual accompaniments to her singing.  I particularly admire the way the song’s rhythms are maintained against a subtly but definitely non-rhythmic backing.

How and why do songs and stories start?  Why do some continue?  I hear a tale, it resonates with me.  A song expresses the way I am feeling or says something I need to say.  We pick them up, play with them a little, maybe, and send them out into the world again for others to receive.  Some creators are known by name: we meet Carolina, Lady Nairne, whose poems and songs were published anonymously during her lifetime, as it was most improper that a Lady should be a published author.  Her ‘land of the leal’  talks to a parent facing the imminent death of their child, promising them that life in that blessed land is much more joyful than this on earth, and that the child will be there to welcome their parent to it in time.  

Lest our spirits be too dashed by this sorrow, we made a quick excursion to an oyster cellar – far removed from today’s elegant ‘oysters and champagne’ establishments, this was somewhere people of all kinds could go to argue, debate, discuss and doubtless sing, while consuming oysters and porter and, perhaps, eyeing up the oyster wenches.

There was all this and more – all containing that mix of darkness and light, sadness and joy that weaves through Scots stories and songs, that is Scotia.  We must sing the dark as well as the light, the grief as well as the happiness:  all this make us human, make us Scots.

Scotland Unsung, Netherbow Theatre at Scottish Storytelling Centre, (Venue 30), for more information go to: https://www.edfringe.com/tickets/whats-on/scotland-unsung