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FESTIVAL THEATRE | Reviews

WOKE Formidable show exposing the American justice system ●●●●●

Written by Apphia Campbell (Black is the Colour of My Voice) and Meredith Yarbrough, Woke follows two black women, decades apart. Ambrosia has just moved to St Louis to study, in the months following the shooting of teenager Michael Brown. Her African-American literature class is set the autobiography of Assata Shakur, a Black Liberation Army activist who was accused of killing a state trooper. Shakur was imprisoned, escaped and now lives in exile in Cuba, and her story forms the other half of the narrative. There are no costume changes or props to indicate the

difference between the two women but sole performer Campbell makes them completely distinct. She’s a formidable performer, punctuating the scenes with beautiful vocal interludes and although she occasionally stumbles, she succeeds in building a whole cast of characters: patronising policeman, enthusiastic teachers and activists educated in America’s amendments. It is through Ambrosia that Woke so learly demonstrates the

fundamental flaws in the American justice system: multiple, expensive fines, that the majority of people can’t afford, and so they miss court dates and a warrant is issued for their arrest. Privileged and naive, Ambrosia initially speaks for the uninformed, asking 'don't all lives matter?' in her class debate. But when she herself attends peaceful protests and is subject to the persecution of the justice system, we truly appreciate the intolerable situation of many black individuals living in the States.

Parallels are drawn between the Black Panther Party of

Assata's era and the Black Lives Matter movement of present day, leaving one activist’s question hanging in the air: same fight, different decades? (Rowena McIntosh) Gilded Balloon Teviot, until 28 Aug (not 17–19), 2pm, £10–£12 (£9–£11).

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THE DAMNED UNITED Gripping portrayal of a flawed genius ●●●●●

THE B*EASTS Monica Dolan’s potent one-woman show ●●●●● LA MALADIE DE LA MORT Surreal take on a confusing novel ●●●●●

Brian Clough is one of sport’s most compelling characters. His sharp tongue, love of the camera and charm are legendary. So are his alcoholism, arrogance and failures. This adaptation of The Damned United is happy to embrace all these aspects of the footballing giant.

However, the story of Brian Clough (Luke Dickson) is nothing without his long-suffering assistant Peter Taylor (David Chaffer). Taylor understands his role as the under-appreciated power behind Clough’s throne. He serves as the voice of wisdom and compassion trying desperately to pull Clough into the light during his darkest moments.

Dickson is at his strongest during these periods of alcohol-induced despair. The contrast between Clough’s brash public face and his sobbing vulnerability when things go wrong is appropriately stark. He wraps himself in the aura of a man who knows he is the best at what he does then, soon after, is weeping in Taylor’s arms. This could very easily have been an exercise in lionisation, but the decision to show, in equal measure, Clough’s strengths and weaknesses is a smart one. (Liam Hainey) Pleasance Courtyard, until 28 Aug (not 22), 5pm, £9.50–£12.50 (£8.50–£11.50).

78 THE LIST FESTIVAL 17–28 Aug 2017

Writer and performer Monica Dolan has crafted something wonderful here. She plays Tessa, a psychologist, relaying a heart-rending story of her case study, Karen. All fake tan and vertiginous heels, Karen has an eight-year-old daughter, Lyla, who is seeking affirmation from men through dancing like Rihanna in front of them, and who becomes subject of a media storm when she demands, and is then given, breast implants by her mother.

Dolan is superb, bringing heart and depth to a

very modern taboo that of the pernicious nature of branding for ‘tweens’, and the awareness at an increasingly young age of the power of sexual currency. Tessa, facing her own health battles, struggles to reconcile impartial empathy with Karen, totem of the must-have culture, with her own views. It’s testament to the subtlety of the writing and

performance that this is never presented in a hand- wringing or overwrought way. Tessa’s quiet rage is interrupted by her Cagney and Lacey ringtone throughout, and she is a flawed but compassionate woman. There are no easy answers presented in this coruscating, powerful monologue which will provoke much debate. (Lorna Irvine) Underbelly Cowgate, until 27 Aug, 6pm (& 7.20pm 26 Aug), £10–£11 (£9–£10).

La Maladie de la Mort adapts the novel written by French literary superstar Marguerite Duras. Each day for several weeks, a man pays a woman to wait for him in a hotel room by the sea, so that he may learn how to love. Soon she diagnoses him with the titular ‘malady of death’, stating he is incapable of love. The novel is undoubtedly filled with symbolism: the mysterious feminine form juxtaposed against the vast empty sea. But whatever important messages Duras was trying to communicate, this piece provides little elucidation. Performances are in French or English, depending on the day, but both follow the author’s obscure language (it’s worth noting that while writing Duras drank six to seven litres of wine each day).

The performance is visually striking: a woman in a white silk dress emerges stonily from the darkness speaking of silent tensions. Similarly, the hanging of plastic sheets at different depths on stage distorts the lighting and projections to lend the performance an ethereal feel. But a clear interpretation or explanation of the text is not communicated to the audience. One actor reads from the novel, while the other, the woman, frequently disrobes and floats about the stage. Beautiful but baffling. (Clare McVay) Institut français d’Ecosse, until 28 Aug (not 22), 6.30pm, £10 (£8).