Last night I saw three
shows, two of them free and one of them a one-off midnight show that
was not free. For anyone reading this unfamiliar with the Fringe
Festival I should explain that 'free' shows are shows performed in
exchange for tips at the end. They allow people to see shows they
aren't sure about paying for and deciding afterwards what the show is
worth, meaning relative unknowns can put on a show and (hopefully)
make money from it.
I say hopefully, I am
sure people have bankrupted themselves putting on free shows at the
Fringe since for them the cost of taking the time off their regular
work, finding living space and printing leaflets etc. is very much
not free. On top of that this year, presumably inspired by
Kickstarter, if you donate a certain amount some of the acts
(including both I saw tonight) will give you small gifts - stickers
etc.
The two shows I saw
tonight were Grave Invaders and Rebranding Beelzebub, both on at the
Banshee Labyrinth - a place which lays claim to being the most
haunted pub in Edinburgh. It is a rock pub/club with so many rooms
that it even has a cinema. It's called 'Labyrinth' for a reason - go
too deep and strangers will
get lost there. It is the lost souls of these visitors that add to
the numerous ghosts.
Grave
Invaders is a show which revolves around the poetry of its three
performers. The theme is very loose, while roughly based on the
group's visitation of the graves of poets up and down the country
that isn't reflected very much in the poems they deliver. I am a big
fan of making up some facile excuse to travel up and down the country
so I think the looseness of the theme can be forgiven, especially as
the poetry itself is excellent. Really top-notch wordplay, rhyme and
rhythm as well as being very funny. They do seem to frown on being
cruel to Carol Ann Duffy, though. Which is ridiculous - what is this
life if full of care we cannot bitch about Carol Ann Duffy's
inexplicable popularity?
Then
we had not really quite enough time to dash to the toilet and buy a
couple of beers before the next show, as a result of which we turned
up to Rebranding Beelzebub slightly late. Not incredibly late,
nothing of import was missed except the usual, "Welcome to my
show," stuff - which I assume Tim Ralphs, the storyteller, did
but which I can't prove that as I wasn't there.
As
a result of missing the introduction, though, I first thought that I
was in the wrong show. Dressed in red and black he certainly looked
the part of a man telling a story about Satan but at first he just
seemed to talk about vegetable boxes... the devil does turn up soon
enough, though, and when he does the storytelling becomes
spellbinding. Storytelling is in essence what I do in the day job so
I know good storytelling when I see and hear it and, much to my
chagrin, this was definitely it. Annoying as I was hoping to be able
to post at least one visceral and vicious review. Maybe next time.
Of
the two Rebranding Beelzebub was more my style but both are
thoroughly enjoyable and only improved by the sound of glasses
smashing in the bar around them. As they happen one show after the
other in the same place, there's not even any need to choose between
them. They are a winning combination. Maybe they could team up and do
some sort of storytelling/poetry devil meets dead poets thing. If
they do, I will demand royalties for the idea. If they've any sense
they will ignore me, but I'll do it anyway.
After
listening to some lovely stories about Satan it was off to the
Pleasance's Grand stage to see Comedy Sans Frontieres. This, alas, is
not a show you can see as it was a one-off but you CAN see the
comedians who were involved.
Comedy
Sans Frontieres had a simple premise - that national borders are only
in our minds and we should celebrate our similarities and our
differences. This was against something of an ironic backdrop as a
proven liar and a failed Chancellor of the Exchequer had been
debating Scottish independence on STV only two hours previously.
Moving
to the Grand from the free shows was a palpable change. The Grand has
big names, the event was arranged by Dylan Moran and Eddie Izzard in
order to present to the UK comedians that impressed them as they
toured other countries specifically: Igor Meerson from Russia,
Francessco De Carlo from Italy, Yacine Belhousse from France, Michael
Mittermeier from Germany.
However,
you are paying for the names and not comfort. The Banshee Labyrinth
was a far more comfortable place to spend two hours watching shows
than the Grand - in the Grand the seats are too close together and
the heat was like sitting in a simmering kettle. Truly, it does not
do its acts any favours in making the audience so uncomfortable.
Fortunately these acts were worth the discomfort.
Perhaps
owing to familiarity - with the language in their case and with their
style in mine - my favourite acts were Izzard and Moran, both doing
new material and Dylan Moran's version of Fifty Shades of Grey a
particular treat. The international guests focussed on the humour in
national stereotypes. They did so in particularly hilarious fashion
but by the fourth outing it felt like we'd been there before.
Those
minor complaints aside there wasn't a single act I regretted sitting
in the hellpit that is the Grand to watch which is testament to their
ability as comedians. There is not a one I wouldn't happily see again
but two acts did stand out for different reasons:
Perhaps
he had an advantage in being up first but Yacine Belhousse, the
Frenchman, stood out for me in that he both built up and smashed the
French national stereotypes. His humour was artful, which is perhaps
less of a compliment than that it was very, very funny which was also
true.
The
second act that really stood out for me was Igor Meerson. He was
funny but what really shone was his finishing poignancy as he spoke
about the Ukraine and how neither side's citizens wanted a return to
the Cold War and that having witnessed the news from both sides he
knows neither is getting the whole truth. This is the centenary of
the start of the World War One, a war which was almost brought to a
standstill after the Christmas Truce of 1914 spontaneously declared
by the soldiers against the wishes of their masters. Together,
hopefully, we can keep the peace despite our leaders.
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