Fringe theatre reviews: REDACTED: The Cover-Up of a Cover-Up of a Cover-Up | What’s the Craic, God? + more

REDACTED: The Cover-Up of a Cover-Up of a Cover-Up ★★★★

Pleasance Dome (Venue 23) until 30 August

UK/US/French physical theatre company Voloz Collective already have a proven hit on their hands with The Man Who Thought He Knew Too Much (currently making its second reappearance at the Fringe). Is their new show REDACTED simply more of the same, or something entirely fresh and new?

Well, a bit of both. Voloz’s trademark intense, athletic physical theatre is all present and correct, as are their astonishingly meticulous craftsmanship and deep belly laughs. But while The Man Who… feels a breathless dash along a never-ending storyline, the new REDACTED dares to swerve sideways into Pynchon-like digressions and time-bending side-plots. The result is something that’s richer and fuller - but keep your wits about you keeping up with its narrative.

That profusion of ideas, however, is only fitting for a show that’s about the precarious nature of truth itself. Tenacious journalist Marie Makowski (a wonderfully vivid Emily Wheatman) knows something weird happened at Roswell in 1947 - but was it space aliens, a weather balloon, a Soviet plot, or something altogether stranger? Aided by a grotesque gaggle of locals, and pursued by a shadowy gunman, she grabs her dictaphone and sets out to unravel the truth.

There are serious themes of conspiracy and belief lurking behind the show’s preposterous storyline and beautifully crafted physical humour, but they’re rarely foregrounded, serving instead to bring depth to this intricate, restlessly kinetic creation.

Helicopter rides, under-ice swimming and even the backroom of a sinister butchery all get the breathtakingly inventive Voloz physical treatment: the visual gags come thick and fast, but there’s always a question of whether you’re laughing at the humour, or gasping at its immaculate delivery.

If REDACTED perhaps shows Voloz Collective tiptoeing towards more serious ground, there’s little let-up in their intense physical humour. It’s a joyful, playful show that deftly melds together unstoppable madcap comedy with sly insights. David Kettle

What’s the Craic, God? ★★★

Gilded Balloon Patter House (Venue 24) until 31 August

Mortal Sin ★★★

Gilded Balloon Teviot (Venue 14) until 31 August

Their stories may be separated by decades but two new comic plays by young Irish writer/performers confirm that coming out remains a challenge for teenagers from small, observant towns. Rebecca Donovans’s What’s the Craic, God? and Benjamin Reilly’s Mortal Sin both feature alcoholic and absent fathers, repressive religious authority figures, loyal friends and the burning need to escape to the big city in order to flourish.

The former is inspired by Donovan’s own teenage diaries and begins with a young Catholic schoolgirl’s correspondence with God, her childlike foibles and wishes guilelessly exposed. We meet Aoife at 17, now a tortured teen in Co. Kildare who is “half a virgin”, enjoys a morning fag washed down with vodka and endures casually cruel comments from her family on her appearance.

Enter Erin, an outsider who doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her and awakens something in Aoife which is worlds away from the performative fumbling with pupils from the boys school. The purchase of a red bra from the local lingerie department becomes a symbol of her blossoming independence while a word from a certain Scottish singer spurs her on her way to London.

Even so, she can still see her life mapped out before her on her return. She recites the script - marriage, motherhood, domestic violence - but is determined to tells herself a different story “to make leaving feel like healing”.

In Mortal Sin, the desire to leave for the big city, any city, is also with best friends Colm and Peggy, who like to play mummies and daddies with a gender role reversal. The “gentle, mental and kind” Colm in particular has no idea how difficult life could become as he wrangles his feelings for the athletic Martin Malone in a community where you are Catholic first, Irish second.

Reilly and Isolde Fenton beautifully capture the curious spirit of Colm and Peggy who are full of intrigue at the death of JFK and hope to stage their own memorial - if that enthusiasm is not beaten out of them by the vindictive and hypocritical Sister Assumpta, a symbol of a repressive culture which is out to break spirits rather than save souls. Fiona Shepherd

Soaked ★★★

theSpace @ Niddry Street (Venue 9) until 25 August

There’s some uncomfortable laughs of recognition in Emma Rydal’s play which is pitched between a genuinely funny slice of social realism and a sobering cautionary tale. Imogen (Rydal) and her husband Rich (Coronation Street alumni Toby Gaffney) are a successful middle-class couple who enjoy wine — a lot; pretty much every night, really, and occasionally at lunch.

Rich says he appreciates a vino’s “flinty minerality” but really he just enjoys getting sloshed. As does Emma — who’s inability to watch Question Time without a stiff drink is entirely relatable, although her habit of doing cartwheels after a few too many is not.

Rydal and Gaffney convince as a pair of middle-aged party kids starting to feel the consequences of all those good times and they’re well-supported by actor and comedian Stephanie Bradshaw as Imogen’s younger work colleague who (you guessed it) really likes a drink too.

Rydal’s script can be a little on-the-nose — the local off licence is called “Booze” and Imogen works for a company called “Swallows”. While you can, on occasion, feel the writer’s thumb on the scale it’s still smart enough to emphasise the comedic aspects so that it never quite becomes a temperance lecture. Rory Ford

The Meeples: XXX ★★★

Greenside @ George St (Venue 236) until 29 August

A fey, softly spoken frog; a feisty, loud-mouthed pig; a bumbling comedian bear in a pork-pie hat. You’re sure to recognise the puppets in US/European company Artist’s Workshop’s high-octane, late-night musical (let’s not name them for - ahem - legal reasons), but you probably won’t recognise the filth, fury and flirtatiousness that comes pouring out of their fur-lined mouths.

If you liked Avenue Q, you’ll love The Meeples: XXX, which takes the idea of cute puppets saying dirty things into a whole new dimension.

Also on another level to most Fringe shows is the sheer number of performers - I counted five live musicians plus ten actor/puppeteers - and the sheer energy level that hits you from the stage as a result, as the snarling, strutting tribe of furries and their human handlers powers through impressive dance numbers and sarcastic songs.

With all that power and energy, it’s a shame that - despite a few pointed references to ICE raids whisking puppets off the streets - there’s not a better storyline, nor stronger writing beyond the gleefully inventive invective that spews from the puppets’ mouths.

It’s a fast-paced, big-boned and gag-filled show, but with all the breathtaking forces it musters, it could have been a lot more besides. David Kettle

READ MORE: The Scotsman Festival Sessions: Lucianne McEvoy and Kieran Devine in Mayflies

Georgina Thomas: Hysterical Soprano ★★★

Dexter at Underbelly, Bristo Square (Venue 302) until 31 August

Georgina Thomas wants to be the best soprano, and she’s willing to fend off witches, rivals, and her biggest monster, herself, to get there. In this punchy solo debut, Thomas delivers an energetic and committed performance as she recalls the lead-up to, and the moment of her all-defining opera audition.

Georgina is undoubtedly hysterical, as the show’s premise sees her confide in an untrusty witch to cure her dramatic outbursts of singing. These strike at the most inconvenient of moments, and must be overcome if she’s to finally earn her dream soprano part that she’s clearly deserving of, as she showcases her outstanding arias.

Thomas masterfully takes ownership of all her characters, shifting from the freakish witch, to her nerdy opera rival, to her imperious singing teacher whilst perhaps animating her own self too much, as she becomes just as outlandish as the others.

When the performance is funny, it’s extremely so, with modern references to paying the witch via Klarna, for example, enhancing the show's contemporary tone. Yet, too many of its intended comedic moments fall flat for its audience. Evaluated edits might improve its pace and momentum so that its final reveal, which is brilliant, becomes worthwhile. Roisin McMullan

Two Little Pigs ★★

Pleasance Courtyard (Venue 33) until 30 August

Under a bunch of stuffed sausages, the unappealing Mark is dumped by his girlfriend Martha, only for her to reappear as a pig in a similarly sausage-led costume. He then tries and fails to control her before she’s eventually silenced for good.

There’s some great production design, from Hugo Aguirre, including a complimentary pate pink set, but while Caitlin McEwan’s script is imaginative – and she’s super as the loveable pig – the script is an uneven mash-up of romantic comedy and heavy-handed misogyny that, like the meat over the stage, is simply left to hang.

An ultimately bleak exploration of sexual violence, it deserves a more thoughtful approach. Sally Stott

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