Fringe theatre reviews: A Better Memory | Salty Brine: HOW STRANGE IT IS (The Neutral Milk Hotel Show) | The Unknown Soldier | Mind The Gap Year | ROOMIES | Stanislavski Can't Save Me from the Apocalypse

Fringe regular Lubna Kerr leads the cast of the impressive debut play by her son Ihsan Kerr, taking a deep-dive into the implications of AI “grief bot” technology, while prolific New York cabaret performer Salty Brine goes typically all in on a joyous celebration of a cult indie album.

A Better Memoryplaceholder image
A Better Memory | Image: contributed

THEATRE

A Better Memory ★★★★

Pleasance Courtyard (Venue 33) until 30 August

Grappling with the implications of AI is a recurring theme this Fringe, not as science fiction but as current technology. In this down-to-earth exploration, Scottish actor - and Fringe regular - Lubna Kerr leads a cast of three in the debut play by her son Ihsan Kerr, directed by Andrea McKenzie. Lubna plays Eleanor, a widow who has an AI assistant with the voice and memories of her husband Harold.

All goes well at first. Harold (a gruffly charming Codge Crawford) plays their favourite music and they reminisce about old times. While there are occasional glitches which remind us he is an AI imitation, Eleanor gradually forgets, and so do we. In the same way, Eleanor’s younger neighbour, the garrulous Mia (Kathryn Mowper), has an AI boyfriend who she claims is more “emotionally house-trained” than any of the men she has dated.

Gradually, though, complexities emerge. Eleanor considers ways to end Harold’s obsession with cricket, and he is less than pleased at the prospect of her going on a date with Bob from her life-drawing class. Then there’s the issue that some of his memories appear to be different from hers. What would happen if Harold had secrets?

As a debut play, it’s impressive, a deep-dive into the implications of “grief bot” technology which also keeps it real with lively dialogue and rounded characters. The one aspect which isn’t convincing is that Eleanor is frail and needs an AI assistant to keep her safe - she appears bright and capable and has all the hallmarks of someone rebuilding her life - but that isn’t actually necessary for the plot to function.

A marriage is a complex thing and, as Eleanor and Harold start to unpick their shared past, we become aware that - at least thus far - AI is far from equal to the complexities of human life. Susan Mansfield

THEATRE

Salty Brine: HOW STRANGE IT IS (The Neutral Milk Hotel Show) ★★★★

Summerhall (Venue 26) until 30 August

When Salty Brine commits, he commits. The New York cabaret performer has been building his Living Record Collection series for over a decade, pouring love, ingenuity and erudition into his idiosyncratic theatrical mash-ups of classic literature and cult albums - or cult literature and classic albums - pairing the likes of The Smiths with Frankenstein, Annie Lennox with The Awakening and Harry Nilsson with The Jungle Book

HOW STRANGE IT IS celebrates In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, the second and, it seems, final album by Neutral Milk Hotel, one of those if-you-know-you-know bands. A healthy proportion of teenagers in the audience know, mouthing along to the lyrics of an album released in 1998. Its reclusive creator Jeff Mangum, dubbed “the Salinger of indie rock”, was inspired in its writing by The Diary of Anne Frank. Salty has his literary connection, and not just because he kept his own florid diary in his teens and twenties.

He bounds on stage, not in flamboyant drag finery but as a preppy indie kid in sweater and thick-rimmed specs. Right from the off, his superb four-piece band turbo-charge the whimsy and amp up the joy of opening track The King of Carrot Flowers, jammed out into a multi-part epic thanks to Salty’s trademark spoken word diversions, in which he sets the scene for album and book while folding in snapshots of his own life.

Like Anne Frank, he wrote in eloquent rapture or dramatic alienation, comparing first kisses and “feeling all the feels”, while the live soundtrack exploits the prevalence of trumpet on the original album to maximise vaudevillian and Weimar cabaret influences. The title track is rendered as a tender nostalgic musical theatre number. The irrepressible Salty attacks every song with dramatic alacrity, performs with his whole body, communes with the audience and ends this 90-minute exultation sweat-drenched but far from spent. Fiona Shepherd

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THEATRE

The Unknown Soldier ★★★

Rotunda Theatre (Venue 65) until 23 August

Armistice has been declared in World War I, yet, although the battlefields of Europe have fallen silent, old soldier Jack has remained behind to help sift through and identify the war dead. It’s thankless and traumatising work (as actor and writer Ross Ericson’s text makes viscerally clear; detailing, for example, the act of removing a “porridge”-like corpse after it’s been steeped in a shellhole filled with water), yet Jack is looking for an old friend so he won’t let up.

Returning to Edinburgh on the 10th anniversary of its premiere here, Ericson’s solo play is in one sense an almost quaint evocation of times gone by, as he performs amid a billet arrayed with old army surplus materiel, taking a break from his duties to converse with the audience as though they were a colleague and building an evocative sense of the dialect, culture and common reference points of young men from the country in the 1910s.

Part of this, of course, is their shared experience of war; of feeling fear, witnessing mutilation, having to stamp down grief for comrades and friends in order to prioritise their own survival, and the way this dissociates them from their loved ones back home. All of this, under the guise of the mission sprung upon Jack to find a suitable corpse to be housed in the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Westminster Abbey, is given rich but understated life by Ericson’s words and performance. David Pollock

THEATRE

Mind The Gap Year ★★★

theSpace @ Surgeons' Hall (venue 53) until 22 August

The infamous gap year - a time to travel and explore before entering the next stage of life.

In this entertaining play, we follow the instantly likeable and engaging Charlie, who goes into his gap year with hope and optimism. Three jobs, a Movember attempt and a rocky relationship later, and he still hasn't travelled anywhere.

Three other cast members play Charlie’s close friends, while multi-roling as various characters in his life. Their engaging performances, alongside quick and smooth transitions, make the busyness simple to follow.

This is a packed 50-minute production, with a prop for every occasion and funny signposts. Even Russian novelist Dostoevsky makes an appearance in puppet form, offering wisdom. A few props feel unnecessary and the inclusion of puppets is slightly less effective than the rest of the production’s inventive character work.

At its heart, this is a celebration of embracing the small things. Life is full of little moments of brilliance and a full-on epiphany in your gap year is rare. Sometimes, it’s simply about finding the courage to take the next step (just mind the gap).

With warmth and some deeper moments, it is a fun-filled play that showcases the versatility and talent of its performers. Suzanne O'Brien

THEATRE

ROOMIES ★★★

Underbelly, Bristo Square (Venue 302) until 31 August

Ten years ago, supercilious Sophie was an LA party queen; now she’s popping so many prescription pills that she’s been ordered to attend a Beverley Hills rehab. There, she is nonplussed to discover she has to share a room with “questionably short” and barely post-pubescent schizophrenic Molly, who favours a “messy room aesthetic”.

Where Molly is almost gleeful about her diagnosis and eager to escalate her care, Sophie is entirely in denial that she might need help with her addictions and compulsions. As her stay spools out across months, she hangs on to the panacea of her impending 30th birthday party, her perceived passport back to vacuous normality in the company of 407 celebrity invitees (“specificity is key”).

Writer/actor Julia Stephens is almost affectionate in her satire of Californian celebrity culture and refreshingly irreverent on the idiosyncracies of living with mental illness, while remaining clear-eyed on the soullessness of non-socialized medical interventions. There is no party to be had for anyone but there is an entente between the roomies which culminates in a micro road trip to Malibu, a plunge into murky waters and a bittersweet and perversely uplifting ending which takes in liberation, escapism and self-determination. Fiona Shepherd

THEATRE

Stanislavski Can't Save Me from the Apocalypse ★★★

Greenside @ George Street (Venue 236) until 22 August

Told in reverse chronological order, this comedy is set at a children’s theatre summer camp, beginning a month into an apocalypse.

Five young women take charge of the camp while navigating relationships, ambitions and the possibility they won't survive. It’s a playful take on the end of the world. Think a mix of Yellowjackets, Glee and a sprinkle of Smash.

The tone is unserious and comedic, with a couple of tender moments. The fast pace and high energy heighten the absurdity, while the characters’ approaches to survival range from preparation to complete distraction.

Nodding to its title, the play finds humour in the contrast between theatrical training and actual survival. The camp attempts to continue as normal with drama classes pretending to be animals and holding auditions - hardly lifesaving skills.

Elizabeth is a particular highlight, pushing for normality, desperate to direct Into the Woods while dreaming of performing as a Disney princess. Her exaggerated mannerisms and swishing scarf perfectly capture the over-the-top theatre kid.

The reverse chronology is an interesting choice, and occasionally odd to follow. It moves from mayhem and high stakes towards a hopeful beginning. The early intensity naturally peters out, but the dark comedy could be pushed further. Even so, the combination of theatre-kid energy and chaos makes for an entertaining hour. Suzanne O'Brien

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