January 19, 2023
Edinburgh Fringe Part 2: The Stand-ups, the Two-Handers: Janeane Garofalo, Josie Long, Afghanistan is Not Funnyby Randi / August 24, 2022We’ve made it the final edition of our Edinburgh Fringe round-up! Like Vanessa Williams before she hammed it up on a telenovela and learned to say “Maaaaark” haughtily (I’m rewatching Ugly Betty), I’ve saved the best for last. I enjoyed all the shows I crammed into my Fringe weekend (which you can catch up on in Part 1 and Part 2 (despite all the cursing I did enjoy everything)), but three shows stood out. Not only were they the best of the fest, they were some of the most moving, most well done, and/or most fun shows I’ve seen in years. YEARS, MARK. These are the gems that stood out, the ones that I truly hope have a long, wide-reaching run once they leave Enbra. (Look at me I’m local now.)
Kathy and Stella Solve a Murder! by Jon Brittain and Matthew Floyd Jones
I am not a fan of true crime anything – not the documentaries, not the serial podcasts (or the Serial podcast), not even the satirical (is it?) comedy (IS IT) ‘Only Murders in the Building’. I don’t even watch the news because I just don’t want to HEAR about MURDER. That line that Baby Apatow says in ‘Knocked Up’ – “I googled murder!” – is the only enjoyable thing in this whole genre for me. That is, until this musical. “Kathy and Stella” tells of two best friends who have a middling true crime podcast (who doesn’t!), but when their favorite author gets murdered, they become embroiled in the case, trying to solve the mystery while also getting the chance to blow up to superstardom (at least as far as murder podcasts go).
Despite the subject matter that normally gives me the heebies and the willies, the entire crowd was laughing the entire time, and I was leading the charge. The show is sensational! (I just finished Mel Brooks’ autobio and I feel like I just quoted him.) The two stars playing Kathy and Stella are equally hilarious and talented, with great singing voices and even better comedic timing. Their every gesture and facial expression was exactly attuned to their characters. So many little lines and looks were somehow hysterical. The whole five person ensemble shines as well, with each person getting a chance to shine, and just when you think you have a favorite, someone else steps forward and does something hysterical/sings something amazing/tells the best joke and steals the crown. I can’t even begin to recount all the times I CACKLED laughing, though I do remember just dying when they were in the police station and Stella said something about them being pigs. The crowd loved that, obvs, we’re good people.
There are so many bops in the score too. Nothing stood out as the sort of thing to become a classic showtune, but all the music was fun and fresh and enjoyable. It was just a blast. There’s a little dip in the momentum just after the half-way mark, when you kind of don’t believe that Stella would fabricate evidence to share with their social media followers, but that might have been just my own frustration at someone f-ing with the chain of custody and lying to allege someone else’s guilt. But overall, it was the strongest musical of the fest, and I’ve rarely seen an audience have more fun. My face hurt from laughing so much, and though I wouldn’t rush to buy the score, it was perfect for the experience. I can see this having a sold-out run at the Southwark.
INFORMATION: The show is playing in a circus tent (Roundabout at Summerhall) so the nearest toilets are a bit hard to find, upstairs in the school building behind the tent. (Just ask the staff, they’re milling around.) There are outdoor bars just outside with water pitchers – the Fringe venues are pretty good about having water pitchers! The show went 18 minutes past scheduled end time. It’s okay, it’s a treat. You’d think being outside in a circus tent would mean more fresh air and air flow but you would be mistaken.
Bloody Elle, by Lauryn Redding
Literally the only disappointment I can share about this gorgeous, moving, brilliant one-woman show is that I’m now learning the writer and performer is named Lauryn, and not Elle, and so I am guessing that it was not as autobiographical as it seemed. Why am I so sad that this heartbreaking personal tale might not be true, why did I want this lovely young woman to have actually suffered so much in real life for our entertainment? BECAUSE IT WAS BRILLIANT.
“Bloody Elle” is an incredibly honest and beautiful telling of a young girls’ first love with another girl. Elle, our heroine, works at Chips & Dips and is muddling through life until a new girl, Eve, joins the staff and turns her world upside-down. Their budding romance is conveyed believably, feelingly, emotionally, and we are there for every single inch of the roller coaster. Elle shares the tale with her expert storytelling, her powerful singing, and her uncanny ability to imitate a whole cast of deeply drawn characters. (I say imitate like I actually heard the real people, and am realizing that’s just the strength of Lauryn’s abilities. Each Chips & Dips employee was ON THAT STAGE. ‘Our Jack’ is my fave, obvs, hope he’s real more than anything.)
Some lyrics were a little hackneyed, whenever she was trying for more ‘impressive’ figurative language instead of sticking to simple but honest lyrics. Simple and true is always better than trying to sound smart. But I noticed that kind of thing only a few times, and for the most part the music, and all the writing, was like an arrow shooting straight for your heart. It was raw, and heartfelt, and she is such a strong performer that you have no choice but to jump in and feel everything with her. We laughed, we sobbed, we laughed, we really truly cried with her and felt her pain, and then laughed some more, and then felt hope, and then cried more, and so on. This is one of those shows that make you believe in the power of art. Just an amazing gem.
INFORMATION: This is playing in the Traverse theatre, the more profesh of Fringe venues, so it’s a comfortable regular-ish theatre space with big toilets and a big bar with several water pitchers.
Learning to Fly, by James Rowland
Without a doubt, ‘Learning to Fly’ is my favorite thing I’ve seen not only of the festival, but in a looooong time. This one-man casually set talk in a small anatomy classroom was one of the most flawless pieces of theatrical storytelling I’ve ever seen. I can’t get over how good this was. I said good like a IDIOT; this shit is AMAZING. This is up there on my list of favorite things, full stop. James Rowland is a STORYTELLER for the GOTTAM AGES. There are few things I don’t have at least one or two bits of constructive criticism for (okay I like to think I’m constructive but I acknowledge that sometimes I am just a b word.) But this? This shit was SHEER PERFECTION.
I honestly don’t know how to say anything else except yell (can you hear me I bet you can because I’m loud) about how great this is.
James tells the very-true-seeming-I-hope-it’s-true-it-seems-true-I-mean-of-course-it-is-but-Lauryn’s-got-me-second-guessing-everything-now story of when he was a boy and was forced to spend time with his scary older lady neighbor, who he was convinced was a witch, as all kids are of their older lady neighbors. As expected, their ‘relationship’ is stilted from his trepidation, as he spends the hours watching TV and she stays in the other room. Everything changes with one of the most vividly drawn tales of a bathroom incident gone wrong, when they are forced to let down their guards, stand in the same room together (the bathroom), and finally become friends. All of this is told so well, conveying all the emotions and excitement and fears you could possibly imagine, and we were having a lovely time.
And then James gets his old lady neighbor some ecstasy to lift her spirits, and the show kicks into another gear you had no idea was coming, and it is f-ing hilarious.
James plays all of our emotions like a fiddle. Like a damn FIDDLE. We were laughing, we were weepy, we were struck dumb, we were laughing again, we were puppets attached to the strings he controlled. The twists and falls and emotional turns never stop coming – from the hijinks you expect from a teenage boy trying to buy drugs in high school, to him suggesting this plan to her, to his fakeout of her reaction, to her dying, to her NOT dying actually, to her dying again, to him trying to get a hold of his own life as an adult, it’s all told so expertly, so warmly and lovingly, that I think I will have a hard time listening to anyone else try to tell a story ever. Does it have drugs? Does it have classical music on drugs? Does it have poop floating in a flooded bathroom? Does it have a woman who comes back from the dead and is high as a kite drinking with EMTs? then KEEP IT.
If you have the chance to hear James tell this story this weekend, you simply must. Hopefully he will get to tell this story in a venue more worthy of this superb piece of theatre in the future.
INFORMATION: The show is in this tiny room, an anatomy lecture hall, at the Summerhall venue which is just mind-boggling to me, like the biggest inverse ratio of venue quality to performance quality you could imagine. There are single toilets out in the hall (I mean it’s a school!) and the bar/cafe has water pitchers AND tiny vegan Ben & Jerry’s, if you can believe it. (IF I can believe it? Watch this: I believe it!) The show went 14 minutes over, the one time you’re grateful for that.
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Fiddler on the Roof at the Menier Chocolate Factory: As Moving and Important as Ever
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is Fiddler on the Roof, playing at London’s Menier Chocolate Factory until March 9.
Even though I have known Fiddler on the Roof by heart my entire life (I think Jews are born knowing it (jk I was also in it once upon a time)), I am always surprised at how great a show it is, every time I see it. When a bit of time passes in between viewings – like now, since the last time I saw a production was the 2016 Broadway production with Danny Burstein (entirely perfection) – I’ll recall how special a show it is to me personally but forget a little bit that it is a masterpiece simply as written. And then the show starts, and it is just nonstop onslaught of perfection: fantastic song after fantastic song, utterly hilarious lines, heartbreaking emotional depth. After seeing another fabulous production of this sweeping epic show, I can’t imagine ever letting Fiddler slip from the forefront of my mind again when I think of exceptional musicals in the entire canon. London’s Menier Chocolate Factory virtually always produces top-notch productions, and its Fiddler continues the trend.
In a rather small, cramped room, the audience gets as close to the action as possible, feeling dropped into Anatevka with Tevye, his wife Golde, and their five daughters, along with all the delightful townspeople. This small space (which gets overheated fast, btw, like a real schvitz) instantly provides a different experience from other productions: with everyone on the same level, with just the floor in the middle as the stage, it’s more intimate than any big theatre with a traditional proscenium can achieve. I’m curious to see how this will change when it transfers to the West End; I hope they retain some aspects of this intimacy.
The set design uses the space wonderfully, with the small wooden houses and their pointed roofs against the one side of the room without audience rows, and the cast coming in and out of the same entrance that the audience used, passing right by my aisle seat (obviously nearest this exit; it’s a long-ass show) so close that I had to lean away several times to avoid being hit with chairs and luggage and whatever else they were carrying out. I highly recommend sitting by this door (my perfect seat was C35), because it lets you witness without a doubt my favorite aspect of this production, differentiating it from all others: the cast would continue their conversations as they exited the stage/theatre, fully in character and saying remarkable (or completely banal, but the fact that I was hearing their extra conversations made everything about it remarkable) things to each other that only I and a handful of others similarly placed could hear. That they continuously went to so much extra effort to convincingly inhabit their characters for so few people filled me with so much joy. When anyone talks to me this season about getting rid of t-shirts that no longer bring them joy I’m like, if you didn’t sit by the door in Fiddler, you don’t know squat about what brings joy, also just clean your house more.
This production stars Andy Nyman as Tevye, who was amazing as Charles Guiteau in the Menier’s Assassins a few years ago. His Tevye is sarcastic and cynical, which helps his humor come across. In his first big song, “If I Were A Rich Man”, he tries to make this overdone classic his own, with the daba deeba deeba da’s instead becoming grunts of pain as he rubs his strained forearms. I appreciated this change, not only because I do the same thing after I use battle ropes, but because it is hard to make any aspect of Tevye different after so many years and so many incarnations. I didn’t love the ugh oohs instead of the daba deebas but I loved that they tried something different. Being so close to Tevye in his moments of internal soliloquy made his impossible struggle to do right by his daughters and by his religion’s traditions more understandable than ever. His precarious perch between the paths he can choose, which he compares to that of a fiddler on the roof (you knew why it was called that, right?) is conveyed with such emotional depth. Even when he makes decisions you think are wrong, it’s difficult to really say that he’s wrong when you know how impossible his position seems to him.
The three main daughters (sorry Bielke and Spritze, but you will get your Susan B. Anthony in the annals of history when I eventually name two small dogs after you) were all a pleasant surprise. I was distracted for the entire first half because I would have bet my life that Chava (Kirsty MacLaren) was played by the actress who played Tanna on Gilmore Girls, but alas, it was not, so it’s a good thing no one took that bet. Along with Molly Osbourne’s Tzeitel and Harriet Bunton’s Hodel, all three daughters were wonderful. Even though Tzeitel seems like the main one, she doesn’t actually get much to do after “Matchmaker”, yet she made her mark. Bunton’s “Far From the Home I Love” was beautiful. Their male counterparts were great too, so great that Husbo and I decided that one of our future dogs will also be named The Tailor Motel Kamzoil (yes, in full). I have to give Stewart Clarke props for opening Act II with one of the worst songs in the musical theatre, let alone one given the crucial role of opening a second act. “Now I Have Everything” is like the even more awkward version of the end of Javert’s “Soliloquy” you know when it sounds like he hits the wrong note at the end, before it resolves? but for an entire song. That’s “Now I Have Everything”. It’s honestly mean to make actors sing this song, but Clarke’s Perchik did as great a job as is possible.
One of the best parts of knowing a show so well is being able to appreciate the tiny things they do differently. Considering how many productions of Fiddler I’ve seen, I can’t believe this was the first to have the mamas, in their verse in “Tradition”, actually whisper when they sing “a quiet home” (as in “who must know the way to make a proper home, a quiet home, a kosher home”). It’s so obvious! How has no one done that? It was adorable. Also the sons’ verse made me laugh harder than ever when they end their intro with “I hear they’ve picked a bride for me, I hope…(super long pause)…she’s pretty.” It’s such a bad line and so awkward but I LOVE IT.
In the whole three hours, there were only a few drawbacks. With a rather small company and tiny space, “L’Chaim” didn’t have the verve it usually has. While still great, it wasn’t a showstopper with its usual energy. On the other hand (as Tevye would say), this size and space let the wedding scene feel more present and real. “Chavaleh” was insanely heartbreaking because it’s impossible for it not to be, but Chava wasn’t onstage during it, so Tevye was just singing to himself. I’ve been destroyed by productions that have decided to have Chava dancing during the song, as an apparition of Tevye’s memory. I mean it was nice to just cry and not screamcry for a change, but there’s a small missed opportunity there. My only other issue was with Yente. Oy. Yente is hilarious as written (like so much of the show, surprising every time), so it’s hard to mess her up and easy to make her even funnier with a strong comic actress. This Yente was not a strong comic actress. There’s so much potential handed on a silver platter and she didn’t do anything with it. To quote Ross, “it took her what, like, what, uh, I don’t know, ahh, ughh, a WEEK? to get out a sentence?” “Yeah it’s annoying, isn’t it.”
But otherwise everything was wonderful and a powerful reminder, as always, that it’s still sadly relevant for us today. At the end, when the inhabitants of Anatevka march out of the town and out of the theatre, they had them secretly circle back through one of the houses so it made it seem like an endless trek of people. It was an effective way to get me even angrier at anyone who supports a government that turns away refugees. I was looking around at that audience through my tears and thinking ‘any of you who are crying and applauding who also voted for Brexit or harsher immigration laws are utter jackwagons.’ What can I say, no one was on their phone so I had unused anger at the ready. Anyway, Harnick and Bock are absolute geniuses and I love their damn show so forking much.
INFORMATION
The show runs 3 hours, always. Some productions are technically 2 hours 55 minutes, some are 3 and 5, it’s all roughly 3 hours and so is this one. I didn’t realize that when I was in it in high school so like all those parents watching their kids do 5 shows in a weekend really deserve medals. At least our Tevye was amazing; I cannot imagine what it is like to see a scrawny little white waspy tween whose voice hasn’t settled yet play Tevye like they have at so many other schools.
It was recently announced that this production will be transferring to the West End, giving you plenty of time to see it. Mazel!
The Secret Society of Leading Ladies: A Fun Choose-Your-Own-Adventure Concert
Today’s show is a video stream presented by the Barn Theatre, available from today until March 7.
The Secret Society of Leading Ladies tries to make the pre-recorded multi-performer concert experience a little more engaging and a little more cohesive, by letting viewers decide which leading lady characters and songs will be part of their unique concert combo. Conceived of by Barn Theatre’s Ryan Carter, the show aims to create a world where our beloved (for the most part) characters somehow exist together, know each other, and take turns at the mike. With each viewer deciding their own setlist, the concept lets us make the experience as enjoyable as possible, while also catering to our lockdown-worsened attention spans.
The show definitely succeeds on the engaging front: Choosing what song you get to hear next is almost giddy fun, and exerting that kind of control in a show is pretty rare. (It’s also kind of a gift from the creative team to give us control over anything at this time, like they are doing more than therapists can. Anyway…) The production quality of the choose-your-next-player interactive menu was quite impressive, and you have plenty of time to weigh your options and decide if you’re more in the mood for a song from Ghost or Fame. I also liked that they showed pictures of each performer along with the song title in the choosing menu, so you can also decide based on performers you know and like and want to hear.
As for the cohesiveness, however, that was a disappointment. The idea that all these famed musical theatre characters were somehow at this venue together, aware of who the others were, and part of some secret society didn’t really gel, since – because of lockdown restrictions – they couldn’t really film conversations among the performers. (They tried a little bit to show them chatting (filmed and shown one at a time), but the pacing was as awkward as the commentary.) It would honestly be such a fun show to delve into how these famous characters from all sorts of shows would interact with each other, kind of like the higher-brow version of that Disney picture of all the cartoon princesses having a sleepover that lives rent-free in my head (I want to go to there/be a cartoon princess). But that idea didn’t really gel.
As a plain-old concert, though, it’s a lot of fun. I enjoyed seeing all these familiar faces, some new-to-me faces, and hearing some songs I haven’t listened to in a while in a combination I definitely didn’t hear before.
Because it was essentially a concert, the featured moments favored belting over building characters or telling stories. The sound was a little wonky too, so any pitch problems came through way more noticeably than seemed right. I loved that even where a performance had some issues, the singer always brought it home with a huge belted note at the end, like they knew it almost didn’t matter what came before because most people will just remember a fantastic final note.
Yet as expected in a concert showcase performed by mainly yoots, the show often felt like the belting Olympics in more ways than just big endings, with vocal acrobatics given more consideration than inhabiting a character and telling that character’s story. Of course, it’s difficult to do the latter in just one song, but without much of it, the conceit that these were the characters and not the actors fell flat. “Dyin’ Ain’t So Bad”, performed by Emma Kingston was far and away the highlight, surprising because it’s from a score I’m very familiar with but not toooo fond of (Bonnie & Clyde) and originally sung by one of my favorite clear-voiced performers (Laura Osnes). This was the rare performance that told a story and used belting as a tool to do so, rather than just focusing on belting for belting’s sake. How many times can I say belting in one sentence, wow.
Note that it is quite short – only 5 choose-your-next-performer menus compose the show before the finale; we didn’t even finish eating dinner before it was over. Definitely choose a multi-stream ticket so that you can go back and watch the other performances as well; otherwise, it’s a little too short. Also, since each performer is presented as an option only once per show (regardless if you skipped them in round 1 – they don’t come back in round 4 as an option), the multi-stream ticket would let you watch e.g. two ladies from the same round.
