Edinburgh Fringe theatre reviews: JEEZUS! | Picking Up Stones: An American Jew Wakes to a Nightmare | Chunky Jewellery | A Minor Theft | Pour Decisions

JEEZUS! ★★★★★

Underbelly, Cowgate (Venue 61) until 24 August

Any Catholics of a nervous disposition, look away now. Actually, make that anyone who’s easily offended by ecclesiastical lust, the appropriation of godly symbols for (ahem) alternative uses, or getting turned on by Christ on the cross.

On second thoughts, even if you find those ideas shocking, you should probably still go. Not only for the blisteringly good performances from Peruvian Sergio Antonio Maggiolo and Uruguayan Guido García Lueches, the show’s creators (we’ll come back to them). But also because, despite its in-your-face sacrilege and gleeful blasphemy, the loud, proud and profoundly queer JEEZUS! actually deeply loves the church – or at least the greater love that lies beyond the institution’s worldly trappings – even if it rips to shreds its destructive attitudes to homosexuality.

Little Jesús grew up in Peru and always knew he was a bit different. He’s down to be altar boy at his first communion, but he knows he’s developed… well, let’s say a particular form of love for his namesake, the crucified Christ. He’s trying to follow the strict path laid down for him by his army father, but will his soul be eternally damned, as his priest informs him, if he goes through with the communion without confessing his forbidden desires?

Maggiolo is a winning Jesús, capturing poignantly the boy’s early wonder and developing guilt and shame as his internal conflicts kick in, while García Lueches multitasks excellently across the boy’s family, priests and even a simpering, coy Christ himself. They’re blazingly, apparently tirelessly energetic across the show’s breakneck scene changes and hot, Latin-infused musical numbers (even Carl Orff gets a pompous takedown). But director Laura Killeen’s steady hand – combined with appropriately biblical chapter headings for its parody Catholic ritual of a structure – ensures clarity among the riotous chaos, and also that all its targets are effectively skewered. That includes us, the audience, who clearly know next to nothing about Peru’s brutal recent history, so Maggiolo and García gratifyingly fill us in with a darkly witty number.

Yes, JEEZUS! will shock and offend, and it sets out to do just that. In the end, though, its joyful, even sentimental celebration of love beyond ecclesiastical trappings of power might bring a tear to the eye of even the most devout.

DAVID KETTLE

THEATRE

Picking Up Stones: An American Jew Wakes to a Nightmare ★★★☆☆

theSpace @ Surgeons Hall (Venue 53) until 16 August

Kudos to writer and performer Sandra Laub, the American Jew of the title, who attempts to grapple with the intractable ongoing situation in the Middle East with open-hearted compassion and understanding for all innocents. The attacks of October 7th 2023 are her catalyst, but crucially her perspective is informed by Palestinian friends as much as Israeli ones.

Using real and imagined conversations with friends and historical figures, she illustrates a sense of both the history behind and the current horror of what’s happening. The table before her is covered with pebbles, one painted with a Palestinian flag and one with an Israeli, and she moves them around randomly as she speaks, seemingly recreating patterns of conflict and connection. Horrified, she empathises with the victims of October 7th, but also with the mothers of Palestine and their children, who have no post-traumatic stress disorder because their trauma is ongoing and unceasing.

Structurally the piece is episodic, flitting between thoughts and vignettes, but when it chooses to settle on a train of thought, for example a difficult imagined conversation with former Israeli prime minister Golda Meir, it feels focused and instructive. The cycle of revenge is a theme Laub returns to, and the words of Hillel the Elder – “that which is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow man” – resonate once they’re spoken.

DAVID POLLOCK

THEATRE

Chunky Jewellery ★★★☆☆

Assembly Rooms (Venue 20) until 24 August

It’s not unusual for artists to lay themselves bare on stage, but in Chunky Jewellery, Natasha Gilmore and Jude Williams take self-disclosure to a whole new level. This touching celebration of female friendship is a reminder (should anyone need it) of just how unflinchingly resilient women can be in the face of adversity.

Both stalwarts of the Scottish stage, Gilmore (dancer/choreographer) and Williams (singer/performer) spend the show recalling and reenacting a year when life threw a sackful of rocks at them. A period when there were wonderful gains (newborns), deep losses (a mother, sleep) and heartbreaking desertions (both their partners), all faced wearing the grey blanket of tiredness.

Such autobiographical candour gives the piece an undisputed authenticity and rawness, but somewhat inevitably leads to reduced universality. This is their story, their pain, and although there are obvious relatable moments, we stay on the edge of the narrative. Until a powerful closing scene where Williams’ adorns Gilmore with necklaces, whilst reciting a long list of qualities and services she gifts to those around her. These hold true of so many women, and offer a beautiful moment of connection.

KELLY APTER

THEATRE

A Minor Theft ★★★★☆

Playground 2 at ZOO Playground (Venue 186) until 16 August

Heartbreaking and vulnerable as protagonist Sophie, Beth Mullen paints us a vivid picture of a deeply flawed – yet still sympathetic – young woman who has just done the unthinkable. After witnessing a mother smoking cigarettes and nursing a vodka coke, uninterested in her young baby bouncing around in a flimsy pram, Sophie is spurred into action: stealing the baby when the mother goes to pick up her wage packet. While the show’s title lays its subject matter bare, Mullen still manages to imbue us with a mounting sense of dread as Sophie makes her decision and deals with its consequences.

We follow Sophie as she carries the baby – rechristened Clementine, due to the fruit motif on the onesie she’s wearing – to Asda for some new clothes, and then to Ikea for an impromptu nap. She cradles a coat to evoke the weight of carrying a small child, musing on the joy and wonder of holding a tiny human in her arms. Eventually, the rationale behind her otherwise-incomprehensible actions becomes clear: her very young niece, Jane, has died unexpectedly, plunging Sophie into unspeakable tragedy. Suddenly, the righteous anger regarding what she perceives as the stranger’s inadequate parenting makes sense, as she rages over Clementine’s broken arm and bruised jawline. We never learn whether these injuries were deliberate or accidental, but in the end, it doesn’t really matter – the cosmic injustice of Jane’s death persists regardless.

A Minor Theft approaches such difficult subject matter with great tenderness; the seemingly-simple set and plot give Mullen the space she needs to tell Sophie’s story with the nuance it deserves. Every line, delivered with complete conviction, gives us the impression of a woman come undone with grief – and yet, as Sophie’s police interview comes to an end, we still see a glimmer of hope.

ARIANE BRANIGAN

THEATRE

Pour Decisions ★★★☆☆

Greenside @ George Street (Venue 236) until 16 August

All is not what it seems after a work party filled with one too many vodka and orange cordials. Frankie wakes up the next morning, to find a dead body behind the bar and absolutely no memory of how it got there. From this, the dark comedy with a cast of two spirals into an increasingly absurd and hilarious situation.

Jess is effortlessly cool, more concerned with drinks and cheesecake than the corpse on the floor. Frankie, sweet on the surface, is secretly running a side hustle stealing and reselling items from the bar. Together, the pair are chaotic, charming, and the actors have a strong, believable onstage chemistry.

Much of the comedy is grounded in the set which is a simple bar with stools and a few beer taps. Cleverly, we never see the full dead body, just a pair of lifeless legs sticking out which is a visual gag that pays off on quite a few occasions.

While the pacing keeps things moving, the tension doesn’t always match the stakes, as there’s an odd calm in the air. Still, the creeping absurdity builds nicely, especially with the near-arrival of the vermin eliminator. His bizarre jingle and appearance via Ring doorbell is strangely effective and perfectly sums up the non-seriousness of this silly and sharp play.

SUZANNE O'BRIEN

READ MORE: Five Edinburgh Fringe performers on the true life stories behind their shows