Fringe theatre reviews: Hero/Banlaoch | no one is coming to save us | Only Human | Welcome to my Room

Hero/Banlaoch ****

Scottish Storytelling Centre (Venue 30) until 25 August

Acclaimed storyteller Sinéad O’Brien returns to the Fringe with the second part of her story about her dysfunctional parents after last year’s No One Is Coming, which dealt mainly with her mother’s mental illness. This show focuses on her father, blending autobiography with Irish traditional tales even more skilfully than in the first show.

O’Brien’s dad was a real hero, the sort of father who could make an expedition across muddy fields only to arrive at the local landfill site into a proper adventure. When her parents separated, it was a relief to spend time with him rather than contend with her mother’s illness, but as she grew up she began to realise that she had been ignoring a different set of problems: his battle with alcohol addiction.

It’s hardly surprising that O’Brien knows a few things about putting a story across, whether it’s an episode from her own life or a story about Fionn MacCumhaill or Brian Baru. What stands out in this show is the way she blends the two, at times moving between them almost seamlessly. In the traditional stories, she humanises mythic figures, and chooses to focus only on the parts of the stories which serve the purposes of her overall narrative.

She’s realistic about the hard things, at the same time conjuring immense joy in accounts from childhood about her father and grandfather. And she’s honest about the fact that, as children, we can overlook so much about our parents’ problems and limitations. Growing up can mean seeing one’s heroes in a new light, which is a kind of loss. But, if you’re lucky, like the son of Fionn MacCumhaill, it’s also a time to ride off into the beyond and become the hero of your own story.

Susan Mansfield

THEATRE

no one is coming to save us ***Pleasance Courtyard (Venue 33) until 13 August

Against an epic backdrop of environmental collapse, there’s still space for smaller-scale relationship dramas between a group of friends gathered on a mountaintop struggling with life, love and a wildfire that’s coming for them and, perhaps eventually, us all. The young cast from Pepperdine Scotland (a cultural exchange with California’s Pepperdine University) give committed performances as the earnest ensemble of characters, a group that is as well populated as it is passionate about sharing how it feels while caring for the environment it loves.

It takes Lewis Hetherington’s lightly satirical but ever-affectionate script a while to establish who’s dating whom and who’s just being “kind” while watching the glorious sunset, but the writing contains a well-balanced mix of respect, bemusement and care for a generation who, like the ones before, are trying to make things better while daring to hope that everything will be alright in the end. Hollace Starr’s fluid direction accentuates poetic narration that conjures up a canopy of green under which the friends journey. How far is too far to go in the quest for change is touched upon, along with the ways eco-tourism, social media and personal identity intersect with individuals whose motivations are never entirely disconnected from their sense of being on display.

Sally Stott

THEATRE

Only Human ***

theSpaceTriplex (Venue 38) until 10 August

This occasionally scrappy but inventive piece of youth theatre from Singapore flatters to deceive with a rather brilliantly animated opening sequence that establishes its world. In a near future where blue and orange are considered desirable shades of lipstick, AI has evolved from simple household appliances into robots that are an established (under)class of society. Tensions are further heightened by the unveiling of the advanced uBot - so named because it’s designed to serve “u” - although it quickly switches to “Destroy All Humans” mode as soon as it’s turned on.

The large group scenes are well choreographed and more than capably executed by the young cast but the ostensibly dramatic scenes rarely convince and frequently serve as mere exposition. However, Sophia Simmons’ narrative often functions as a through line on which to hang some effective quieter moments, as in the burgeoning relationship between a decommissioned robot and a young woman which serves as the heart of the show. While the larger robot war scenes don’t work as well, Conundrum Theatre seem to have an appealing willingness to try any technique at least once in the service of their story. It’s likeable rather than wholly effective but futuristic science fiction is infamously tough to present on-stage so there’s no faulting their ambition.

Rory Ford

THEATRE

Welcome to my Room ***

Greenside @ George Street (Venue 236) until 10 August

Just as our bedrooms, especially when we’re younger, reflect who we are, the ‘room’ Yeena Sung welcomes us into is a gateway to her soul. A ‘Korean Korean’ living in New York (as opposed to a ‘Korean-American’, an important distinction), Sung has spent 13 years away from her homeland. The space is adorned with objects and items that capture both her origin story and her daily life: a coffee pot from an American diner rubs shoulders with a packet of Korean snacks. Music is made, looped and relayed live, words are sung into a microphone and digital images are projected onto the wall.

It’s the intimate, one-woman confessional that really draws us in, however. Sung conveys the moment in childhood, as a budding young actress, when she realised the leading ladies in Hollywood movies didn’t look like her. Or the time her family flew into New York and the awkward coming together of Korean family and Korean-American friends. Such moments feel rooted in human emotion, hope and disappointment, fostering a sense of universality. On occasion, this deeply personal autobiography can briefly leave those outside the realm of experience lacking an understanding, but the welcome here is never less than warm.

Kelly Apter

THEATRE

Three Bed (No Living Room) **

theSpace on the Mile (Venue 39) until 10 August

Modern day dating is an emotional minefield. There are the usual disappointments, the fear of plucking up the courage to ask out that person you’ve had your eye on, not to mention risking heartbreak and rejection. For three housemates there’s the added complication of navigating their queerness and bisexuality.

There’s a lot of love in Three Bed (No Living Room). Woolly jumper warmth radiates from the young cast who carry the writing with tight knit chemistry. But it’s not quite enough to make up for the narrative’s dramatic inertia.

The ideas about performing queer identity are admirable sketched: how to dress, what kind of latte to order. But that sketch is not developed enough for the ideas to emerge in technicolour. Instead the narrative swerves down a love triangle road, a path too well worn to stand out. With development this could blossom into something genuinely heartfelt.

Alexander Cohen