Edinburgh Fringe theatre reviews: Karine Polwart: Windblown | Lost Lear | The Black Hole + more

Queen’s Hall (Venue 72) until 13 August

There’s a touch of pure magic in the way singer, songwriter and theatre-maker Karine Polwart approaches the multiple crises that face us in this 21st century.

Gentle, accepting, and full of wonder at the glory that still remains on our home planet, Polwart is also a wise and witty observer of the human folly that has destroyed so much, and of the tragedy of that loss.

In her latest show Windblown - produced by Raw Material, and briefly at the Queen’s Hall this week - her subject is the mighty Sabal palm tree that once stood at the centre of the tropical glass house in Edinburgh’s Royal Botanic Garden, but that finally had to be taken down in 2021, too old and unstable to survive the temporary removal of all the plants from the 19th century building, to allow for a major refurbishment.

Polwart was artist in residence at the Botanics at the time, inspired to honour and celebrate the old tree, as it faced its inevitable end; and the result is an exquisite 60-minute song cycle, with linking narrative, in which Polwart reflects on the history of a tree that was brought to Scotland from Bermuda as a seed or sapling around 1800, and taken up from Leith docks to the old botanic garden in Leith Walk, then in the 1820’s transferred with the rest of the plants - travelling through the streets in carts - to the garden’s present home at Inverleith, and to a steel and glass plant house that soon had to be rebuilt to accommodate its growing height.

Polwart’s songs, in the voice of the palm itself, are wistful yet powerful, touching as they go on themes of colonialism and dislocation, and of the brutal shifting of living things from their natural habitat; yet also beautifully evoking the tender care with which generations of Edinburgh gardeners tended the tree to the moment of its death, and still tend the garden’s millions of plants now.

The songs unfold as part of a simmering, beautifully textured score co-created by composer and sound designer Pippa Murphy, with live piano accompaniment by Dave Milligan, against the backdrop of a gorgeous, turbulent palm tree sculpture by designer Neil Haynes, lit by Lizzie Powell.

And when, in the end, Polwart quotes the essayist Maria Popova’s concept of every living organism as a “cathedral of complexity”, it seems as though she has been using the magic of her voice, and of the artists with whom she works, to bring that great cathedral of nature gently back into the light; after centuries of neglect by everyone except the quiet fellowship of gardeners, who keep it alive, for us all.

Joyce McMillan

Lost Lear ★★★★

Traverse Theatre (Venue 15) until 24 August

A key plot element of Shakespeare’s King Lear is based on the relationship between the King, who wishes to divide up his domain and riches between his three daughters, and his youngest child Cordelia. Where her siblings Goneril and Regan try to flatter their father into excessive generosity, Cordelia refuses to dismiss his faults, even if it costs her material wealth.

All of this is recounted here by a man (Manus Halligan) who addresses the audience with a hasty summary of the play before the curtain rises. Yet we discover he isn’t talking to us; a rehearsal for a new production of Lear is about to take place, and he’s bringing understudy Conor (Peter Daly in the performance I saw, although Gus McDonagh also takes the role on some days) up to speed.

In this gender-swapped play-within-a-play, Lear is performed by Joy (Venetia Bowe), a grand dame actress of the stage whose demeanour is haughty and regal – in and out of character – as she sits upon Lear’s armchair throne.

When Conor reveals himself as singularly ill-equipped to be an actor, she scoffs and attempts to coach him on how to do it properly. “Play the intention!” she jabbingly commands, as he struggles to communicate.

It's difficult to take a description of writer-director Dan Colley’s Shakespeare-adaptation-which-isn’t much further, because the play opens up in a way which presents a wonderfully unexpected experience for the viewer.

Suffice it to say that Shakespeare’s theme of a feted, arrogant parent in conflict with a child who must tell them who they are and what they’ve done is brought hauntingly up to date.

Although the audio-visual elements are perhaps over-used, this amusing and poignant play brings themes of aging and regret powerfully home through the intelligence of its script and the sheer quality of its performances.

When Lear inevitably begs forgetting and forgiveness for being “old and foolish,” all that’s gone before lends those words striking new power.

David Pollock

The Black Hole ★★★

theSpace @ Venue 45 (Venue 45) until 16 August

Initially deceptively formless and pleasingly abstract this new psychological drama from actor-writer-director-producer Vkinn Vats repays attention.

Alone in a shared space — an ethereal new age music score suggests limbo but it could be anywhere — a couple dance, kiss, share intimate moments and eventually some hard emotional truths.

The setting may be elliptical but Vats and his similarly convincing fellow actor-collaborator, Rosalind Jackson Roe have real chemistry, and manage to keep this mostly grounded and relatable.

Gradually, as the couple’s conversations begin to take the shape of a developing relationship; from flirting to physicality. From the perhaps ill-advised “did you ever..?” sex chat — which proves a surefire way to ruin the moment — to buried resentments and affections. The couple’s conversations are admirably straightforward — mostly; Vaks’ statement that he doesn’t like birds because they fly and his mother left him and his father on a plane is rather inelegant.

Also, while the new age soundtrack is effectively atmospheric, the moments where it’s used to underscore dialogue feel unnecessarily heavy-handed. The ambiguity of the ending feels inevitable, deliberately left for individual interpretation, but the significance of the title may remain a puzzle.

Rory Ford

Crocodile Tears ★★★

theSpace at Venue 45 (Venue 45) until 17 August

It’s tempting to describe this new play by Jessica Ferrier as a satire on the ethics of reality TV or something similarly high-minded. While that wouldn’t be entirely inaccurate, it’s also informed by — you suspect — a sneaking fondness for the genre as it fees all-too-plausible and has a firm grasp on the dynamics of a group under manufactured duress.

As ratings plummet for the current season of reality TV show, Castaway Island, the producers manipulate events behind the scenes to create further tensions between the remaining contestants. Ferrier is strong on introducing characters — here helped by the “diary room” entries — and has fun with the TV format; one of the best gags comes when the show cuts to a commercial. The cast are at their best when insulting each other — Ferrier gives good invective — and it’s always fun to watch the magnificently unbothered Lex Joyce as Jake, a character who sometimes seems as if he’s wandered onstage by mistake but it is frequently the funniest presence there.

The constantly accelerating pace stumbles over the climax somewhat and you suspect the show hasn’t found its perfect ending yet but this is good fun.

Rory Ford

The Pornstar Martini Effect: A Bartender’s Guide to not K*lling Yourself at Christmas ★★★

theSpace @ Niddry Street (Venue 9) until 16 August

There’s more than a hint of John Godber’s Bouncers to the early scenes of this solid two-hander written and directed by Ella Kendrick.

Convincingly set in a busy pub on Christmas Eve — the very effective sound design blares Slade and The Pogues — we’re privy to the interior monologues of Kat (Zane Marsland) and Tom (Finnen McNiffe) two harried bartenders just counting out the clock until closing.

Both are sexually objectified by older, drunken patrons and both deal with it with fixed grins and desperate eyes.

Marsland and McNiffe are both convincingly harried, you feel lived experience through them and Kendrick’s script, but as the shift ends and the pair decide to share a couple of drinks (’tis the season and all that) that the mood changes.

It’s (perhaps deliberately) unclear how long Kat and Tom have known each other but their dialogue with each other is not entirely convincing as they slip rather too easily into laying all their emotions on the table.

The gear-change from raucous bar chat to near therapy-speak is a little jarring but Kendrick keeps the production moving even with the deliberate change in pace.

Rory Ford

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