Fringe theatre reviews: The Librarians: A Very Serious Comedy! | I Was Never Here + more

The Librarians: A Very Serious Comedy! ★★★★

Pleasance Courtyard (Venue 33) until 31 August

A portrait of Peter, Plumstanton Library’s head librarian of 27 years, hangs on the staff room wall, having died in a manner fitting his devotion to murder mysteries: crushed by the Agatha Christie section.

His death leaves the role up for grabs, and the acting head librarian, convinced he’s a shoo-in, is in for a rude awakening when a new candidate arrives from London. Of course, she has baggage in tow, the significance of which is duly and comically unpacked over the course of the play.

The library itself, flickeringly lit and visibly falling apart, faces demolition and conversion into luxury flats, contingent on passing an inspection scheduled for the very next day.

Panic ensues, and the ensemble – including a scene-stealing character known only as “work experience,” reliably responsible for the best lines – throws together a hasty community meeting with a room of angry conservatives to figure out their next steps.

The comedy is broad, joyful, sometimes tipping into pantomime, aided by excellent physical work and inventive use of the stage’s full surface: a pretend bookshelf, books made of cake, quick-change sets that flip between front and back of house.

The wordplay is constant, as you might expect from a show about libraries, and a scene with the inspector – “so, what's your favourite atom?” – is a gloriously awkward highlight.

There’s something of The IT Crowd’s absurdist office comedy in its DNA, and fans of that brand of humour should feel right at home.

Structured almost like a treasure hunt, with clues and payoffs scattered throughout, The Librarians is an enjoyable, laugh-out-loud farce, told with affection for its ramshackle setting, and a love letter to libraries everywhere. Josephine Balfour-Oatts

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I Was Never Here (there is no spy show) ★★★★

theSpace @ Niddry St (Venue 9) until 25 August

With his scarlet suit and hat, his bizarre make-up and his dodgy Eastern European accent, there’s nothing remotely conspicuous about the clown-like figure in front of us. So it’s obviously a shock when he reveals he’s actually a spy - though with his memory wiped, he desperately needs our help to save the world.

New York-based actor, theatre maker and games designer Leo Lion unveiled his distinctive interactive/immersive/escape-room-like modus operandi to great effect in last year’s mime show HELP ME!!!.

This time around, Lion speaks, though you may find yourself doing quite a lot of the talking as his bumbling, forgetful character needs almost his every move mapped out for him (not to mention constant reminders of who he is and what he’s meant to be doing).

Yes, there’s masses of audience participation in I Was Never Here - the show’s whole premise relies on it, in fact - but it’s entirely voluntary, generous and inclusive, never humiliating (and you may even find yourself sent off on a special secret mission).

So rich is Lion’s creation, in fact, that an audience will inevitably sample only part of it at any given performance. His intricate, interconnected web of clues, objects and odd supporting characters takes quite a bit of memory and brain-power to parse and stay on top of - perhaps more than some might have in the show’s late-evening slot (kids would surely love it, but maybe not at 11pm). But Lion’s engaging, hurried and often exasperated character keeps the pace swift and the energy levels high.

While perhaps lacking the magic of mime-only communication from last year’s show, I Was Never Here is nonetheless an hour of playfulness, problem solving and gentle mental gymnastics in the company of a captivating performer. And with a whole website of back-up games, it’s clearly a labour of love. David Kettle

The Subplot: A Hyperfixation on the Titan Submersible ★★★

Summerhall (Venue 26) until 31 August

The appropriately-named The Subplot is a one-woman piece about the 2023 implosion of the Titan submersible as it sank to view the Titanic, killing all five people onboard.

More than that, it’s a catalogue of obsession, primarily that of Titan’s captain and the OceanGate underwater tourism company owner Stockton Rush and his wealthy passengers; but even more so of Australian theatremaker Sophie Smyth’s obsessive fascination with the subject, in an age where access to endless volumes of online information and speculation makes us all experts.

Smyth introduces herself to the audience as our blue jumpsuited captain and declares us all ‘mission specialists’, a fancy-sounding title which OceanGate bestowed upon all its paying passengers, despite their absence of any kind of aquatic qualifications.

Using a slideshow projection, she relates the story of the Titan in parallel with her own, detailing her multiple diagnoses including autism, which exacerbates her hyperfixation upon the news cycle.

It’s a funny, informative and personal hour, and by the end we know more about both the Titan tragedy and the kind of empathy-averse rabbit hole the news cycle can disappear down when an intriguing, memeable story appears (the ‘remaining oxygen’ countdown on some news channels was particularly unpleasant).

The disconnect between laughing at the vain hubris of the hyper-wealthy and feeling human compassion for tragic deaths is acknowledged, although the sharp tonal turn into it is enough to give you whiplash. David Pollock

Patient 13 ★★★

ZOO Playground (Venue 186) until 30 August

You might think an autobiographical solo show about a midlife cancer diagnosis sounds like overly familiar ground for a Fringe offering (and you’d hardly be wrong). But there’s something quite special about New Yorker Gail Thomas’s unusual tale, and her natural, unforced way with storytelling too.

Perhaps it’s her honesty about her failings and vulnerabilities, and perhaps it’s setting her condition within her clearly rich and quirky life (not to mention her unconventional romantic life). Or perhaps it’s the surprising study she’s asked to take part in following her treatment, a vivid and colourful description of which forms her show’s climax.

More important, perhaps, is the sense of connection she quickly establishes with the audience, and her directness and honesty in recounting her experiences, as well as her innate sense of dramatic timing. Which is just as well, as her staging - just a single chair and a few lighting changes - is about as minimal as it comes.

It’s unlikely, perhaps, that you’ll come away from Patient 13 with whole new perspectives on illness, mortality and resilience, but you’ll almost certainly be glad to have spent an hour in the company of such a fascinating and frank performer. David Kettle

READ MORE: 'There's such a love there' - Eva O'Connor on how uni friendships inspired her Fringe show For Dolores

The Only Man Who Won’t F*ck Me ★★

ZOO Playground (Venue 186) until 30 August

This is a study of a Brooklyn sex worker and Madam, Kat, who adores Logan, though he sees her only as a friend. She describes play parties and warehouse dance floors, kissing a male-shaped punch bag in an uncomfortable blur of sex and intimacy.

At its best the piece is moving. Kat spends her days gauging how unsafe she is, a vigilance traced to childhood, pressing her face against dogs’ faces, waiting for the bite. That wariness is increasingly dulled by bravado, and the fear and vulnerability beneath are also sacrificed in the process. Josephine Balfour-Oatts

Billie and The Big Turn On ★★

The Royal Scots Club (Venue 241a) until 21 August

There is undeniable enthusiasm as the cast of four take the audience through many odd scenes and crazy outfit changes to tell Billie's story, including her time as a Greek god waitress and a barrister.

Along with Billie, the audience are invited to find their superpower in 75 minutes. There is a lot crammed in, including two live musicians, vocals, and audience interaction - not limited to dancing the Macarena.

Extended gaps between action disrupt the rhythm, and forced filler scenes don't really work. The characters get lost in the confusion, making it hard to connect with them. A song about self-sabotage does impress, and a mime character weirdly works well. Suzanne O'Brien

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