FESTIVAL THEATRE | Reviews
I S B M A L S A E R D N A
: O T O H P
LOST IN TRANSLATION: A BILINGUAL JOURNEY Frank, funny tale of cultural differences ●●●●●
We first meet Marion Geoffray as her 8-year-old self. She bursts out of her ever-present suitcase and stomps around the stage, singing with gusto. This energy continues throughout, as Marion single-handedly pulls her luggage and the audience through her bilingual journey (performed in a mix of English, French, Gaelic and Occitan). At first her English stretches only far enough to
flirt with an imaginary Prince William (when he had hair), and to sing classic 90s pop. But then she falls in love with London on a school trip, and moves to the big smoke to study drama. This is when the real work begins. From small talk to dating, Marion relives and relishes all the cringeworthy moments that shaped her.
packs too much into the show: key terms are mentioned but not explained, moments of high tension are passed over rapidly, and she does not answer the fundamental question: what could persuade an intelligent person to join a famously sinister group in the first place? There’s a sense that the performance is an act of therapy, an attempt to rid herself of the behaviours she had adopted.
Lack of tiered seating made some viewing However, she has both charisma and storytelling
awkward and the audience were slow to warm to the interactive parts of the show. But these hitches will undoubtedly resolve as the run continues. skills, relating shocking moments – and celebrity gossip – in a way that emphasises how familiarity can even make appalling ideas feel comfortable.
With insightful observations and an eagerness When she finally realises the sham of the Church,
to educate, Marion is a loveable character who describes what it is to love and live more than one culture. Just don’t mention Brexit. (Clare McVay) ■ Institut français d’Ecosse, until 28 Aug (not 22), 4pm, £8 (£6). the hollowness of its teachings and values are made clear. It’s a fascinating tale but lacks the theatricality to push home its message. (Gareth K Vile) ■ Assembly Rooms, until 27 Aug (not 21), 3.10pm, £10–£12 (£8–£10).
80 THE LIST FESTIVAL 17–28 Aug 2017
YOUR EVER LOVING Timely political theatre about the Guildford Four and the rights of terror suspects ●●●●●
Your Ever Loving by Martin McNamara is based on the true story of Paul Hill, one of the Guildford Four who were accused of planting IRA bombs in pubs and wrongly imprisoned for 15 years. It uses letters written by Hill to his family during his incarceration and now stored in a university archive. Just two characters and a lot of creative staging bring the story to life and while the pace is a bit racy at first, it settles quickly. Stefan McCusker is stoic as Hill and James Elmes demonstrates versatility playing guards, prisoners, the justice secretary, judge, jury, and Margaret Thatcher. The play doesn’t shy away from the violence of prison and interrogates the crucial question that cast doubt on the Guildford Four's innocence: why they signed full confessions.
Music neatly frames the passing of time
as Hill listens to the Beatles and Christmas number ones from various cells. It’s hard to distil 15 years into an hour but wanting more is a testament to this story’s resonance. With the rights of terror suspects again in question, it is a timely piece of political theatre. (Rowena McIntosh) ■ Underbelly Cowgate, until 20 Aug, noon, £10–£11 (£9–£10).
P H O T O
: F A Y E T H O M A S
SQUEEZE MY CANS Inside the world of Scientology ●●●●● BRUTAL CESSATION Visceral play lacks emotional depth ●●●●●
Cathy Schenkelberg was a member of the Church of Scientology for over a decade, spending close to a million dollars in the quest to become a ‘clear’ (a stage on the path to personal salvation). Squeeze My Cans is honest, revealing both her seduction by the cult and the destruction of her confidence, personality and independence in the process. This two-person play, written by Milly Thomas (pictured), revolves around a couple in a toxic relationship. Dressed in matching grey jogging bottoms, the couple are nameless and locationless. Thomas deftly captures the style of arguing unique to couples, of two people who know each other so well they can push the right buttons.
In a rush to expose her experience, Schenkelberg It is a manipulative relationship, with a permanent
undercurrent of tension built on steely looks and what is not said, as much as what is. An extended description of a torture fantasy, her torture fantasy, is stomach-churningly visceral as she talks through smashing her boyfriend’s head like a watermelon and lobotomising him using kitchen utensils. The play is then cleverly turned on its head when the pair switch roles, acting previous scenes back using the other’s dialogue.
While Brutal Cessation exposes gender expectations, its abstract nature limits an emotional response to the couple and their plight. The staging is generally unimaginative, and there is so little physicality between the pair, who appear more like friends, that belief in their relationship is stretched. (Rowena McIntosh) ■ Assembly George Square Theatre, until 28 Aug, 4.20pm, £9–£11 (£8–£10).