Fringe theatre reviews: Is It Too Late Now To Say Sorry? | GANNET | Lawrence of Arabia and ME + more

Is It Too Late Now To Say Sorry? ★ ★ ★ ★

Summerhall (Venue 26) until 31 August

Adam Lenson’s latest show is part of a wave of first-person solo drama, based on the real-life experience of the writer-performer, that has been sweeping through the Fringe for a couple of decades now, often with results that are frankly forgettable.

This new show about guilt, apology and forgiveness, though, stands out from the crowd of first-person monodrama as the work of a theatre-maker full of artistry, who crafts and shapes the material of his own life into a rich and shapely sequence of remembered incidents, reflections and songs, often illustrated with graphics that look unpretentiously home made, but are also – in their own way – quietly effective.

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Lenson is preoccupied, in this show, with those moments when we do or say something regrettable that can never be taken back. He reflects above all on his own tendency to lose his temper in the face of injustice, to an extent that others find upsetting or excessive; how can he truly apologise, he asks, when he believes that his anger was justified? His insight into the pseudo-apologies of those who don’t really mean it is celebrated in a terrific comic song called “Sorry - Not That Sorry”; elsewhere, his songs are poignant or thoughtful, full of a sense of the complexity of his relationships with his big, combative Jewish family.

He is also, crucially, a writer-performer who knows when to say less, both in shaping his show into a tight, enjoyable piece of theatre, and in dealing with the profound crisis he now faces. Indeed, he makes sure that that crisis features only in the show’s final minutes; and even then, only as a sharp reminder of how it can suddenly become much later than we think, for apologies, for forgiveness, and for saying what must be said, while we still can. Joyce McMillan

GANNET ★ ★ ★ ★

Just The Attic at Just The Tonic at The Mash House (288) until 30 Aug

Daisy Day’s one-woman show, co-written by fellow Soho Theatre alum Peggy Pollard, is a chaotic multi-role masterclass.

Day, in an oversized beak headpiece and feathery bloomers, plays an abandoned baby gannet, whose search for his mother somehow lands him in the offices of Morris & Co., a typical corporate company with a bad case of Boys’ Club culture and an unclear function. This becomes even clearer when they hire a baby bird for the superfluous role of NIPS (New Initiatives and Partnerships) Officer. Day’s naive young gannet learns that he may get further searching for a father than a mother in this weird and wonderful parody of the silliness and machismo of the corporate world.

Day seamlessly morphs between a carousel of 18 brilliantly archetypal characters, a credit to Day and Pollard’s observational comedy Patricia Flaps, the officious line manager, a browbeaten intern who Flaps calls “tea boy,” and Jacob Greasly, a toffish CEO, who Day brings to life with frighteningly convincing Eton-isms and bicep flexes. Day has a unique accent and physicality under their belt for every one of them. They brilliantly engage the audience too, as other interviewees, or (male) board members in Greasly’s meeting room.

Accompanied by some confident clowning and a well-chosen soundtrack, GANNET bears a chaotically enjoyable resemblance to an episode of Succession or Industry on acid. Lilia Foster

Lawrence of Arabia and ME ★ ★ ★

theSpace @ Symposium Hall (Venue 43) until 29 August

What an unusual Fringe show this is, more a storytelling lecture than a piece of theatre. In fact that’s exactly what it is, as author, Arabist and desert explorer Eamonn Gearon stands at a lectern as himself and tells his audience about the modern Middle East, but does so through the lens of early 20th century British army officer TE Lawrence, whose exploits in the region, particularly during the Ottoman Empire-breaking Arab Revolt of 1916, later earned him wider recognition as the subject of David Lean’s 1962 film Lawrence of Arabia.

At times, however, Gearon steps away from his podium to wrap a white cloth approximating a keffiyeh around his head and deliver chunks of monologue in character as Lawrence, bringing the play into familiar solo biographical play Fringe territory. As an actor he’s just about adequate for the task, but as an orator he speaks with passion on his subject.

We learn more about both Lawrence (a medieval history-loving Welshman and the child of an affair with the family governess, who loved his country but believed in Arab self-determination, despite only spending two years living in Arabia), and about the region itself, the “thrice-promised land” buffeted by the Ottoman and British Empires, and by two world wars. Needless to say, this also informatively sets the scene for many of the Middle East’s current problems. David Pollock

Werewolf ★ ★ ★

Techcube 0 at Summerhall (Venue 26) until 31 August

On arrival, audience members are directed toward public information pamphlets – “how to survive and thrive in your safehouse” – assigning them a role in Safehouse 656 before the show has properly begun. It’s a clever conceit: three wardens, identified by armbands, oversee a sealed tent community under quarantine, while a camera feed monitors the door and rumours of lycanthropy spread through half-heard broadcasts and gossip.

The show’s strength is atmosphere. Its best material comes at night, when lights dim longer than feels comfortable, batteries go missing, and the group’s paranoia turns inward – bureaucratic reassurance (“better safe than sorry”) turning into groupthink and scapegoating. The sound design and slow accumulation of small, unsettling details gather significance, and the cast handle the shifting register between comedy and dread with skill.

However, the show falters structurally: it doesn’t so much conclude as stop, and a late visual reveal undercuts the tension carefully built beforehand. The audience-participation pamphlet, too, feels underused – a device with more potential than the show finds time to explore. A satisfying setup that needs a stronger follow-through, and a debrief to match its ambition. Josephine Balfour-Oatts

READ MORE: My Festival: Alaa Shehada

Book of Shadows ★ ★ ★

Underbelly, Cowgate (Venue 61) until 30 August

A bare stage, a blank cinema-style screen, a couple of tables: the surprise comes from just how colourful and energetic Canadian/Japanese puppetry company Mochinosha’s shows are with such minimal ingredients. That’s missing out, though, the hundreds of meticulously drawn and sliced cut-out images the duo uses, projected from their table tops into vivid and larger-than-life images on the screen.

They’ve employed their immediately distinctive style over several strong Fringe shows, and Book of Shadows is just as captivating – and amusing. Sceptical teenager Vi finds herself sucked into an alternative world of dark magic and sinister conspiracies when her secret agent father leaves her under the protection of her grandmother, who claims to be the centuries-old mystic Madame Blavatsky. Cue cosy chats with demons, flirtations with streetwise goths, and even a search for the arcane tome of the show’s title.

Mochinosha’s anime-like images provide an entertainingly over-the-top visual counterpart to puppeteer Daniel Wishes’ self-aware, sarcastic storytelling, which seems to revel in the show’s retro spookiness while never taking anything too seriously. It’s all beautifully and convincingly done, and there’s masses of expertise put into the shadow puppets themselves and their manipulation. In the end, however, though Book of Shadows is sure to entertain and delight you, it may not linger long in the mind. David Kettle

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