list.co.uk/festival Reviews | FESTIVAL THEATRE
RIVERRUN Extraordinary Joycean monologue ●●●●●
Whatever one makes of riverrun, Olwen Fouéré’s adaptation of parts of James Joyce’s Finnegans Wake, one must applaud the attempt. Fouéré, one of Ireland’s leading theatremakers, has brought to the stage a text that some consider impossible to read, far less perform, and her show – which she created, directs and performs – has been highly acclaimed in Ireland and London.
She focuses on the voice of the river, which flows
through the entire novel. On the black stage, the only marking is a tidemark sketched in fragments of white dust. She takes off her shoes and paddles. Some time later, she swims. Her performance is extraordinary, both in the power of her voice, and in the way in which she uses her whole body, embodying the different moods of the water. Looking for a narrative or any other form of verbal
logic in the Wake is a hiding to nothing, and this will be frustrating for some. The best thing to do is to trust Fouéré as she revels in the rich waters of Joyce’s wordplay, allusions and sound poetry, where the driving force behind the language is the vigour of the language itself. The best thing to do, in fact, is dive in and go for a swim. (Susan Mansfield) ■ Traverse, 228 1404, until 24 Aug (not 15, 18), times vary, £19 (£8–£14).
THE ERADICATION OF SCHIZOPHRENIA IN WESTERN LAPLAND Modernist experiment splits audience ●●●●●
This piece, by acclaimed theatre company Ridiculusmus, employs a theatrical form that recalls the heyday of Dadaism, the avant-garde and absurdist art movement of the early 20th century.
The audience is ushered to two seating areas at opposite sides of the room. The stage, which sits between the divided audience, is itself divided by a series of windows with closed blinds and a door connecting the two performance areas. The audiences (which switch sides halfway
through) watch interconnecting plays in medical and domestic settings. The bleeding of the two simultaneous plays into one another reflects, not the common misconception that schizophrenia is a condition of split personality, but, rather, the innovative psychotherapy techniques that are credited with having wiped out the condition in the titular region of northern Finland. The piece is nicely acted and wryly funny at
times. However, it is also, paradoxically, too chaotic and too clinical to make the most of its avant-garde form. (Mark Brown) ■ Summerhall, 560 1581, until 24 Aug (not 18), noon, £14 (£12).
A SLIGHT ACHE Stinging adaptation of 1950s Pinter play ●●●●●
Nobody did suburban paranoia as well as Harold Pinter, and this is a fine example: on the longest day of the year, Edward and his wife Flora (comedy actors Thom Tuck and Catriona Knox, respectively) bicker. They initially seem well matched. Edward is a curtain-twitching creep, bigoted, pompous, prone to violent outbursts. Flora is attractive, yet patronisingly mumsy, placating him with an eye roll or arm stroke, as he obsesses about what would be in today’s parlance ‘first-world problems’. When a dubious-looking match salesman (Simon Munnery) enters their home, their already tenuous world caves in.
As this is adapted from a late 1950s radio play, there are fewer pauses than in the rest of Pinter’s oeuvre, yet the discomfiting chuckles and simmering unease remains. All three performances are impeccable, with Munnery especially chillling, silent and motionless in his balaclava, eyes bulging. From the back, he has the silent menace of a Magritte or Bacon painting.
Simply yet effectively staged, A Slight Ache stings like a wasp on an oppressively sticky day. (Lorna Irvine) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 25 Aug (not 13, 20), 12.45pm, £7–£9, (£6–£8).
SPOILING Toothless satire on post-independence Scotland ●●●●●
Undecided voters rolling up to John McCann’s play about the birth pains of post-independence Scotland need not worry about their opinions being swayed: they’re likely to be more undecided than ever when the 50 minutes are up.
Directed by the Traverse’s artistic director Orla O’Loughlin, Spoiling features Fiona (Gabriel Quigley), a firebrand who swung the debate for the nationalists, and Henderson (Richard Clements), a UK government lackey who attempts to put pressure on her first speech. Having chosen a red-hot topic, McCann seems to have felt that his work was done. His script never lands a punch other than to suggest that politicians are manipulative, a universally acknowledged truth which unnacountably leaves both characters completely dumbstruck.
Instead McCann ducks the issues in favour of glib Yes Minister- style observations of Anglo-Scottish chicanery, with some The Thick of It-style swearing thrown in. Billed as a satire, this isn't the historically aware Scotland of caustic wits like Henryson, but the toothless, apolitical country of John Barrowman and Karen Dunbar, posturing opinion, but defanged and as politically biting as a dancing teacake.
Both Quigley and Clements do their best to squeeze
some interest from their underwritten and poorly developed characters. Fiona’s pregnancy allows for some heavy-handed symbolism about the birth (or rebirth) of a nation, while Henderson’s contrived interest in geology allows him an equally symbolic speech about the role of fjords in our lives. That this wishy-washy effort is the Traverse’s contribution to
the independence debate, weeks before the crucial decision, suggests a stubborn lack of willingness to engage with the world outside the theatre doors. (Eddie Harrison) ■ Traverse, 228 1404, until Aug 24 (not 18), times vary, £18 (£8–£13).
14–25 Aug 2014 THE LIST FESTIVAL 85