FESTIVAL THEATRE | Reviews

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RHINOCEROS A powerful re-telling of Ionesco’s classic 1959 play ●●●●●

Ionesco’s absurdist farce takes place in a sleepy French provincial town where a rhinoceros suddenly rampages through the market place. Over the next few days, more rhinos start appearing, until the villagers realise they are themselves turning into the loud animals terrifying the town. The drunkard Bérenger, however, refuses to transform. This new Scottish / Turkish version is a collaboration between

Edinburgh’s Royal Lyceum Theatre and the radical Turkish company DOT Theatre. It starts as a comedy, with Bérenger (Robert Jack) and his friend Jean (Steven McNicoll) bickering in the town square. There are perfectly timed elements of slapstick, with chairs getting pulled from beneath actors, and well-placed self- referential hints at the Edinburgh International Festival itself.

But soon the play turns to tragedy, with an atmosphere of

creeping anxiety taking over. As Bérenger witnesses his friends’ metamorphosis and desperately attempts to avoid the beasts, the stage becomes narrower and more chaotic, with chairs suspended in the air, dust and flying papers filling the space. Rhinoceros is a classic example of absurd theatre with its

circular dialogue and characters trapped in frustrating situations, while presenting an intense discussion on logic and totalitarianism. The conformist citizens turning into rhinos works as a parable of creeping fascist and nationalist ideas, informed by Ionesco’s witnessing the rise of Nazism and anti-Semitic movements.

Zinnie Harris’s adaptation makes the most of the play’s sharp, humorous writing and astutely shows that Ionesco’s message is as relevant as ever. The diverse cast is excellent and their energy contagious, with Jack and McNicoll’s performances particularly memorable. The final result is an elegant production, as entertaining as it is powerful. (Adeline Amar) Lyceum, run ended.

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COCKROACHED Character driven post-apocalyptic tale ●●●●● THE BLACK CAT Poe classic gets a twist in the tail ●●●●●

£¥€$ (LIES) Fun but laboured experience ●●●●●

This claustrophobically intimate play is set in a post- apocalyptic world, where a seemingly lone survivor, trapped in a party store, finds contact with another human through a battered radio. Theatre 63 is a new theatre company from the Birmingham School of Acting, and this show bodes well for their future, even if it doesn’t particularly stand out from the crowd. A one-person play, with male and female actors swapping roles each performance, the piece is built around a radio conversation, but the gimmick of the colourful party store is effectively used to keep the visuals interesting.

The small DIY-feeling space creates an oppressive atmosphere, and the script is concise and never over- explanatory references to ‘a black sun’ and ‘those things’ are left to the imagination of the audience.

Focused purely on the conversation between protagonist Taylor and the voice on the other end of the radio, the drama becomes a study of one secluded person seeking to make human connection with another. Although not particularly innovative, Theatre 63 stage their piece with confidence, and a sharp enough script, to ably bewitch an audience. (Sean Greenhorn) Pleasance Courtyard, until 28 Aug (not 21), 2pm, £7.50-£9 (£6.50-£8).

88 THE LIST FESTIVAL 17–28 Aug 2017

Olwen Davies and Ollie Smith, clad in noirish Gothic elegance, have decided that The Raven is over- familiar, and so set about rebranding Edgar Allan Poe’s lesser-known short story from 1843, The Black Cat.

Using the titular feline as a conduit for their unnamed couple’s many marital frustrations, they playfully dismantle Poe’s most famous leitmotifs: endless gruesome female deaths, men drinking through existential gloom, raging storms, eye gouging. Reading from scripts at desks, it’s part radio play set-up, part impish physical theatre. A cabbage is stabbed, emulating a Foley-like

sound effect, much wine drunk, and the pair playfully bicker about their roles, vacillating between straight readings or Vincent Price camp. The cat itself is represented by a balloon which Smith threatens to pop. Davies parodies the way women in Poe’s stories are presented as idealised, suffering wives who simply react, with little agency. It’s all fun, but it’s rather inessential and lightweight

even if Davies and Smith have really good chemistry together. Kudos to them, though, for playing fast and loose with the format. (Lorna Irvine) Underbelly Cowgate, until 20 Aug, 7.20 pm, £10–£11 (£9-£10).

Even at their most playful, Ontroerend Goed have a serious point to make. This interactive casino experience mocks the supposed abilities of the banking community, by framing national and international investment as a game of chance and fictional finances. Of course, the finale is an economic collapse, as the croupiers attempt to offload the bonds of failing nations at bargain prices.

Closer to a board game than a theatrical performance, Lies provides the thrills and spills of Monopoly, but the message that money is about fake faith, not a measure of meaningful production becomes laboured. The interludes that comment on the progress of the financial fantasy being built at each table give context and heighten the competitive drama between the audience members. Unfortunately, the game play doesn’t offer the intense emotional kick that Goed’s work usually evokes.

It may suffer in comparison to Goed productions like Sirens, but when the collapse comes, the game gains tension, and the overall structure is a nifty way to explain both the workings of the money-men and the fundamental idiocy of believing in capitalist economic systems. (Gareth K Vile) Summerhall, until 27 Aug (not 21), 8.30pm, £14 (£12).