Edinburgh Fringe 2017 — Days 2 & 3
These are unforgivably late. Fortunately (or not!), they’re all still playing.
Dust (Milly Thomas)

Quirky yet excruciatingly intimate, Milly Thomas’ solo show unflinchingly depicts the out of body experience of a woman who has just ended her life. Piecing together fragments from her past while she spies on her friends, her family and her own body from the other side of the veil, Thomas puts in an expertly nuanced performance as she flits between life and death, and in and out of the mouths of her loved ones. Particularly impressive is the way in which Thomas’ delicate script — never too heavy on theme or exposition — is threaded through with a frank and offbeat humour which ensures the show never stays in either light or darkness for too long. This as much a virtue of the script as it is of careful, incisive direction; precariously balancing wit on the shoulders of despair. The show is supported by an elegant lighting and sound design which deftly handles the shifts between past and present, reality and purgatory, while the simple metaphor of the mirrored set is pertinent but under-utilised. This might benefit from some subtle reconfiguration to bring it into closer confrontation with Thomas’ performing body, and to draw out the tensions between the permanent freedom and eternal imprisonment that death has delivered her into. There is excellent tonal variation across the sixty minutes, and Thomas performs with tight physical precision, but one is left with the sense that she could exercise her physical limits, tempos and tensions to the same extent that she probes her emotional limits. Still, this is an extremely accomplished solo show (with echoes, if you care for the reference, of Chris Goode’s excellent Men In The Cities: thematically similar but from a male perspective), genuine and warm, at times profoundly moving, and coming from a place of deep conviction. — 4/5
Playing at Underbelly Cowgate until 27 August.
Secret Life of Humans (New Diorama/Greenwich Theatre)
This collaboration from the New Diorama and Greenwich Theatre, based on Yuval Noah Harari’s 2011 bestseller Sapiens, ambitiously weaves together six million years of human history through the story of a TV mathematician. The true story of Jacob Bronowski is told in flashbacks, as his grandson in modern London discovers the contents of a room his grandfather kept locked all his life; which he opens (somewhat improbably) at the insistence of a university academic with whom he is on a disastrous first date. This makes for a slightly convoluted narrative, and places the bulk of the show’s dramatic focus on the contemporary couple whose Tinder date story simply isn’t as interesting or theatrical as the histories they are unearthing. There’s some arresting aerial work, providing a literal birds-eye perspective for some of the wider metaphors in the play, and the subtle video design breathes life into a patchwork of stories and ideas. It is a shame that this strong visual work is unbalanced by a disappointingly literal set design — from the unweildy bookcases that are in any case too slightly big for the shallow stage and shallower wings (the effect of characters “appearing” from behind them is rather undermined by the sight of peeping toes or elbows revealed by the venue’s unforgiving sight lines), to unnecessarily didactic details like a 1970s-era BBC logo printed on a floor manager’s clipboard: these things would be clear enough from context, and much of the dialogue is similarly over-exposed. It’s interesting stuff, and an hour worth spending in the theatre, but nevertheless it left me with the impression that the simple backwards-and-forwards acting and storytelling could do with a few more layers (and a bit less stuff) to do justice to the fascinating material. — 3/5
Playing at Pleasance Courtyard until 28 August.

DROLL (the Owle Schreame)
Like Christmas, gambling and other such impure vices, theatre was banned during the Interregnum (though, ironically, not in Scotland — at least not for very long). Of course it didn’t actually go anywhere, and the “droll” emerged as a genre — essentially, plays with all the serious bits taken out and performed in backstreets, pubs and hotels (here we are in a conference room of the Hilton on North Bridge), as light on props and costumes as possible to facilitate a quick getaway. “They were fucking stupid,” the company delight in telling us before launching into one. It’s silly fun, exuberantly performed, but an important excavation of a largely-ignored link in our theatrical and comedic heritage — the plays are little-studied and completely out of print, having been republished only once, in the 1930s. Here they are finally treated with exactly the dignity they deserve.— 3/5
Playing at various venues until 26 August.
Séance (Darkhouse)
This fifteen-minute blast of binaural sound in perfect darkness is the latest collaboration from Glen Neath and David Rosenberg, the team behind last year’s full-length Fiction. This outing is much lighter on narrative, which is no bad thing, and makes for far more intense an experience, with some ingenious blending of fiction with reality at the beginning and end of the show designed to throw you completely off-guard. It feels as though binaural sound has been in vogue lately, and many experiencing it for the first time will be rightly thrilled; but I did leave wondering what needs to happen next, when the novelty wears off. And, like Fiction, I’m not convinced it’s any more inherently theatrical than a theme park ride: the effects and experience might be (semi-)live, but when the outcome is fixed and there’s nothing to play with, I don’t really know where the theatre is. But that’s a technicality, and I’d choose this over a theme park any day. — 4/5
Playing at Summerhall until 26 August.
I Am Faransis W. (sadsongskomplex:fi)

This bizarre play from Finnish ensemble sadsongskomplex:fi claims to be “loosely based” on Woyzeck, although I’d venture that “loosely” is on the generous side. By turns it seems to be dealing with Islamic fundamentalism, Finnish national identity and the dark effects of media influence, but what it’s trying to do with these ideas, and how they link together, remains unclear. The way in which the play handles problematic issues often feels indelicate — not because some of its more controversial statements should be altogether unsaid but because they need to be said by characters we feel compelled to invest in, for better or worse. As it is, the context feels so deliberately obscure, the motivations of the characters so opaque, that the play holds you at arm’s length. — 2/5
Playing at Summerhall until 27 August.
Also seen but unreviewed: Lone Light Theatre’s 100 at theSpace on the Mile, a well-meaning student piece that’s not really ready for a professional stage; and the aptly-named Pity Laughs at Just the Tonic at the Caves, whose poor taste I don’t necessarily object to, but its poor craft I can’t bring myself to forgive.
