Edinburgh Fringe theatre reviews: Trouble, Struggle, Bubble And Squeak | Lymphomaniac + more

Pleasance Courtyard (Venue 33) until 24 August

The Edinburgh Fringe is not short of solo artists who, faced with a breakup, go on to make deeply self-absorbed shows about how angry they are about their breakup.

The theatre-maker and visual artist Victoria Melody, though, is made of sterner stuff; and after previous shows about the worlds of Northern Soul and British undertakers, among other subjects, she decided to move her life on by joining an English Civil War re-enactment society.

It wasn’t entirely plain sailing; for a start, Victoria - who wanted to explore England’s buried radical history by joining the Roundheads - accidentally signed up for the wrong side.

Her interest in the forces behind the English Revolution remained undimmed, though; and she became fascinated by the story of the Diggers, a radical group who refused to accept the power of landlords to remove them, and their means of food production, from the once common land of England.

Melody was artist in residence at a housing estate in Brighton at the time; and with the help of her Civil War chums, she was soon organising the community there to re-enact not so much a battle, as a famous act of resistance by Diggers who refused to be shifted from their land.

In Trouble, Struggle, Bubble And Squeak - a one-hour solo show written and performed by Melody, and directed by Mark Thomas - all of this is narrated in fine agitprop style, with Melody’s pals and comrades in the community represented by vivid black and white photographs on sticks; she also uses small felt vegetables and similar props to bring the story to life.

And while Melody’s show may not be the most polished performance of the Fringe, it is one of the most genuinely purposeful and hopeful; reminding us that once people reclaim the soil beneath their feet, and start using it to grow their own food, they are on their way not only to a radically better diet at prices they can afford, but to a true sense of autonomy and empowerment, long lost to the machine age.

Joyce McMillan

Lymphomaniac ★★★

Just the Tonic at the Caves (Venue 88) until 24 August

In 2014, at the age of 22, life was going well for Megan Timpane. An aspiring young actor living in Hollywood, she worked at upmarket handbag and fashion chain Michael Kors, and was about to audition for a Will Ferrell movie.

She also has a great line in impersonations, from Britney Spears to Kourtney Kardashian by way of the cast of babies she voice-acted in an animated series, and all are fortunately brought out to play in her show.

Then she was diagnosed with cancer, stage 3 Hodgkin’s lymphoma, and during her subsequent treatment and recovery she began to put this real-life, one-woman play together to work through her experiences.

In this she pulls hardly any punches, from detailing the embarrassing effects of chemotherapy upon her digestive system, to an amusing montage of wildly differing reactions from friends when she tells them her bad news.

While Timpane’s exploration of the psychological effects and long-term implications of her recovery feels novel, it’s also somewhat overlong and self-analytic, meaning the back end of the play is less dramatic or revelatory.

Yet this is a personal piece with plenty of humour and frankness around what Timpane has been through, and it’s hard to see how anyone who shares her experiences won’t find it a very moving and identifiable piece of work.

David Pollock

ROTUS: Receptionist of the United States ★★★

Gilded Balloon Patter Hoose (Venue 24) until 24 August

Chastity Quirk is an old-fashioned all-American girl from Idaho, with mandatory bottle-blonde hair and a fake innocent high-pitched squeal of a voice. It’s no surprise she was a sorority girl at school, a cheerleader who chanted about being “saved and spicy” to emphasise both her religion and her hotness.

Now she’s made it her mission to get into one of the most exclusive clubs in the world – the office of the President of the United States.

Beneath Chastity’s cheery, can-do surface she’s merciless in pursuing this goal, leaving the woke news media and yuppie Democrats in her wake as she carves out a niche as the Receptionist of the United States of America, the woman with her hands on the diaries of power.

But has he gotten herself in too deep, and do the leering, crotch-grabbing men of President Drumf’s administration have something special in mind for her?

On the surface, Leigh Douglas (who is Irish, but the US accent is excellent) has carved out a satisfying character comedy which gets plenty of laughs as it pokes fun at the seat of American power and some of the personality types which populate it.

Yet as it nears its conclusion it takes a turn for the darker, leaving the audience in no doubt they’ve seen an effective political satire as much as an irreverent comedy.

David Pollock

Body Count ★★★

Gilded Balloon Patter Hoose (Venue 24) until 25 August

A roaring rampager of revenge, Lily, the protagonist of Gabrielle Beasley’s one-woman show imagines herself as a cross between Harley Quinn and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Initially, however, she’s more like the protagonist of Helen Zhavi’s novel Dirty Weekend, a woman driven to violence by male aggression.

Lily’s body count doesn’t consist of partners but victims. She feels compelled to kill out of fear of walking the streets alone at night but her deeply sadistic tendencies also suggest a true psychopath.

With her black leather biker jacket and short platinum hair, Lily has the iconic female avenger look down but she’s also the ultimate unreliable narrator.

Beasley does good work compelling the audience to feel sympathy for Lily — even with her malignant tendencies — but the narrative becomes ever more unbelievable in the aftermath of Lily’s murder of a friends abusive partner.

This seems intentional as the police officer who turns up at her door is called P.C. Goodhusband (nudge nudge) which signals a sharp turn towards Lily’s fantastical view of herself. This certainly doesn’t undo all Beasley’s good work but it does sit uneasily with the grimy realism of the first half.

Rory Ford

Baron Vordenburg’s Guide to the Paranormal ★

theSpace @ Symposium Hall (Venue 43) until 23 August

This sophomoric spectacle initially flatters to deceive, opening with some excellent costumes and the striking presence of Kelly Desiree as The Scarlet Countess.

Unfortunately, the vast majority of the show is then surrendered to Baron Vordenburg (Corey Boe) who really lets the side down in his Gap khakis and curious mittel-European accent.

Supposedly a slide-show presentation (albeit without slides) about the undead, the Baron employs two hapless goons to illustrate his vampire hunting techniques. Remarkably, this Dark Pony Radio production comes to us all the way from the U.S.A. yet bears all the hallmarks of a lark dreamed up in the pub at the weekend.

Rory Ford

Exposure Therapy ★★

Greenside @ George Street (Venue 236) until 23 August

In a neat concept for a Fringe show, New York ex-pat Nicole Nadler attempts to conquer her fears – including change, the unexpected and reviews like this – by improvising around post-it notes written by the audience detailing their fears, suggesting truth or dares or directing her to read aloud passages from her teenage diary.

“Push me out of my comfort zone,” she says. The resulting anecdotes from her life are warmly delivered, but a stronger predeveloped framework behind an illusion of improvisation feels like it would benefit someone who is neither a trained actor nor comedian.

However, this wouldn’t test Nicole in the way she wants to be – and it’s a show primarily about her need to do this, rather than the audience’s to see something more crafted.

Sally Stott

Jack Offerman’s Big Uncut Flick ★★

Assembly Roxy (Venue 139) until 25 August

Although considerably slicker and more professionally produced than many Fringe productions, this misfiring parody by New York writer Todd Michael doesn’t hit the target.

A recreation of a 1970s U.S. TV screening of a less-than classic film noir, Vice Ain’t Nice, with some welcome commercial interruptions, the 1930s style movie performances are so broadly overplayed as to be unrecognisable.

The script is fatally short of gags and the talented cast have little recourse but to talk faster and act sillier. Kathleen Macari wins a couple of laughs with her portrayals of outdated notions of femininity but — given the obvious effort involved — this really should be much more fun.

Rory Ford

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