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ROOT AND BRANCH
Tim Crouch’s award-winning meditation
on grief, An Oak Tree, returns to the Fringe. Gareth K Vile caught up with him
Ten years ago, Tim Crouch i rst presented An Oak Tree at the Traverse during the Edinburgh Fringe. A play for two actors – one of whom has not seen the script before the performance – An Oak Tree combines a subtle, moving tale of grief and redemption with a dynamic experiment in form. The story, a meeting between a hypnotist who killed a young girl in a road accident and the father of his victim, is told by Crouch and a new actor in every performance. Crouch’s role – as writer, the hypnotist and a sort of on-stage director – guides both the audience and the second actor through difi cult emotional experiences.
The titular oak tree, which the father insists has become his daughter, provided the foundation for Crouch’s script. ‘The inspiration is a work of art called An Oak Tree by Michael Craig-Martin, made in 1973,’ he says. ‘A glass of water transformed into an oak tree through a provocatively simple process of nomination. I say this thing is something else and, by saying it, it becomes that something else.’ From this simple idea, Crouch considered how the subconscious mind – and hypnotism – could shift perspectives, creating transformations of mundane objects into meaningful symbols. The use of the second actor, who is experiencing the play for the i rst time, adds an uneasy tension to the performance. ‘I’d like to think that the device of the second actor has something of the spirit of the Fringe about it – a freedom and an experimentation,’ says Crouch. ‘The second actor is like the audience’s avatar – they discover the play at the same time as the audience. This is, I hope, an empowering experience for the audience.’
Yet An Oak Tree is no empty experiment. The subject – the death of a child – is emotive but Crouch’s distinctive relaxed on-stage presence brings a warmth and compassion to the unfolding drama. ‘With the heart engaged, it’s much easier to take the head on a ride,’ he says. ‘In An Oak Tree, there is an emotional core to the play that can take an audience by surprise.’ With the play having won an Obie, and become a perennial favourite around the world in the past decade, its revival at the Traverse shows that Crouch’s fusion of emotion and intellect can still pack a punch. ■ An Oak Tree, Traverse, 228 1404, 9–16 Aug (not 10), times vary, £20 (£8–£15). Previews 4, 8 Aug, £14 (£8).
FESTIVAL THEATRE | Food FEAST
Perry’s Confessions of A Redheaded Coffeeshop Girl focuses on the character Joanie Little, a graduate stuck as a barista in a café, who takes an anthropological approach to her ‘creatures’ (customers). Perry, an ex café worker herself, claims she can tell who you are by the coffee you order. ‘Are you a busy teacher? Have an iced Americano to go. A chic art student? Sit in our café and read a book as you savour your caffé affogato. Fuli lling people’s tastes is also rel ecting their style, therefore showing the world your individuality,’ says Perry. She describes the show as ‘a bit of everything, so I have come up with a fun new word as my dei nition: it is a “showsical” – a one -woman show that is both a play and musical. ‘There’s musical underscoring, cabaret patter and songs that rel ect the mood, yet it has a beginning, middle and end like a three-act piece of theatre. I play 20 characters in one hour, so there are also elements of stand- up comedy.’
International company Clout Theatre have long titillated and provoked with their critically acclaimed oeuvre, which straddles horror and playful physical theatre. Their latest show FEAST is performed as a mime, exploring our sensual responses. As performer Jennifer Swingler explains, ‘I think the key to how our relationship with food has changed is excess. If you have an excessive amount of anything, it becomes emotional rather than primal. When we harvest and slaughter, there is a reverence for the animal or the crop and its contribution to man’s survival. We no longer want the lumpy bits – we want it sunny side up, uber grande, fat -free and vitamin pumped, not unlike the media or pornography when showing the human body. I’m not going on a feminist tirade here – women are just as guilty. Look at Daniel Craig, emerging from the sea as Bond. He is basically just a damp Chicken Nugget.’
Taking their structure from Czech surrealist Jan Svankmajer’s i lm Food, Clout’s dinner table becomes orgiastic. Performer George Ramsay elaborates: ‘Svankmajer is obsessed with sensation, his i lms are full of touch; sound, tongues, meat and food . . . the carnivalesque breaking of taboos about wastage and manners can be enormously joyous. We attempt to gain more pleasure through more and more grotesque acts, but are ultimately left numbed by this deluge of pornographic imagery. Perversion is pushed to the extreme – a Baroque excess.’
‘When one talks through a meal we forget to taste,’ he adds, ‘the same can go
for theatre.’
Confessions of a Redheaded Coffeeshop Girl, Gilded Balloon, 622 6552, 8–31 Aug (not 12, 19, 26), 6.30pm, £9–£10 (£8–£9). Previews 5–7 Aug, £5.
FEAST, Zoo, 662 6892, 9–31 Aug, 3.55pm, £10 (£8). Previews 7 & 8 Aug, £8.
Vanity Bites Back, Gilded Balloon, 622 6552, 16–30 Aug, 12.15pm, £10–£12 (£8–£10). The Red Chair, Summerhall, 560 1581, 24–30 Aug, 10am, £12 (£8).
80 THE LIST FESTIVAL 6–13 Aug 2015
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