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Reviews | F E S T I VA L T H E AT R E
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MONSOON SEASON Deft two-hander about a relationship on the rocks ●●●●● COMA Exploring the terrors of the mind ●●●●●
RICH KIDS: A HISTORY OF SHOPPING MALLS IN TEHRAN Potent look at capitalism and culture ●●●●●
Julia is a mother with a drug problem, several jobs, not enough money and probably another 99 problems to solve, but her ex isn’t one. Danny (Richard Thieriot) is out of the house and out of her hair. Except Danny is finding his way back into her life, even if only to peer through a hole he’s cut in her screen door.
Most rom-coms deal with a relationship coming together. This one deals with one unravelling – big time. Thieriot kicks things off with a Bill Murray-type deadpan insouciance as he outlines his predicament, wringing laughs easily from observational humour as he develops his moan about how his ex gets everything her own way. At the mid-point, the audience swaps places and
listens to Julia’s side of the story; the fresh POV reveals that neither character is able to see the bigger picture. Thieriot and Plaehn nail their characters, and while the scene-changes are a little lugubrious, this is a model of what a Fringe show should be from Off Broadway’s AFO company. Monsoon Season’s accessibility, humanity and high level of engagement make this show easy to recommend. (Eddie Harrison) n Underbelly Cowgate, until 25 Aug (not 12, 19), 2.25pm, £10–£11 (£9–£10).
Darkfield return once again with their shipping container of horrors. Previous outings Seance and Flight explored fears surrounding the supernatural and of a plane spinning out of control — this year, the fear lies within, as they delve into the terrors that lurk in the mind.
Participants are filed in and made to lie down on
bunk beds, where a metal dish with a small white pill awaits. Audience members are then asked to ingest the pill, before the container is plunged into darkness and a deep, sonorous voice fills the space.
As ever, Darkfield's design is flawless. The show's multimedia elements – the engulfing noises, the smells that hover over the clinical tang of a hospital — are spot on, and truly do create an immersive, heart-pounding experience. COMA's central conceit, however, doesn't entirely hit its mark. Certain parts are frightening, and they do elicit a helplessness that is akin to lying paralysed on a hospital bed, but things never truly take the psychological turn that is promised. The monologue is alternatively chilling and soporific, but fails to elicit much more of a response. COMA is magnificently crafted, though there is the sense of promise unfulfilled. (Deborah Chu) n Summerhall, until 25 Sun, times vary, £7.50 (£5.50).
Javaad Alipoor and Kirsty Housley's explosive, remarkable piece of theatre bombards the senses, emulating the quick fix of technology and the relentless flurry of 24-hour news bulletins. Taking as their theme the titular rich kids, it seeks to address the empty pursuit of hedonism in place of a richness of mind and spirit. It also interrogates the increasing obsolescence of technology, which scientists refer to as ‘techno fossils’.
Alipoor and fellow performer Peyvand Sadeghian's
theatrical TED talk is at once chilling and insightful, augmented by audience interaction through Instagram, Thom Buttery and Tom Newell's video projections, and Jess Bernberg's eerie lighting. As a counterpoint to the wealthy, entitled youth
(represented here by two 19-year-olds and the Porsche they crashed after a champagne binge) they posit a return to culture, espousing Walter Benjamin and his assertion that where we sit globally can be seen symbolically through our shopping malls. It's witty in places, yet horrifying and as Alipoor and
Sadeghian turn the camera towards the audience, there's a real sense of culpability. (Lorna Irvine) n Traverse, until 25 Aug (not 12, 19), times vary, £21 (£15.50).
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FEMPIRE: MESS Sex, religion and quantum mechanics ●●●●●
Who is Kirsten Vangsness? She’s an actress, recognisable from police-procedural show Criminal Minds. It looks like she hangs out with author Neil Gaiman, who provides a recommendation for her show, the cheekily titled Mess. She’s got a second show at the fringe called Cleo, Theo and Wu.
So, just another US import, visiting the Fringe to fan the flames of a TV hit? Quite the opposite. Kirsten Vangsness is a confident performer, but what she’s performing is anyone’s guess; she’s certainly not dining out on past glories. ‘Now, where was I with my show?’ she asks the audience as she lobs another tablecloth of scribblings about quantum theory into a bin. No answers are forthcoming, but the lack of response should not
be mistaken for disinterest. This semi-autobiographical account of the performer’s upbringing in California explores her struggles with her own religious and sexual issues, and her consideration of herself at various ages. Name-checking the film Arrival and it’s non-linear portrayal of time, Vangsness considers every age in her life to be happening at once, each informing each other.
So don’t go expecting cosy anecdotes about working on the small-screen with Mandy Patinkin; Vangsness is more interested in articulating Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle and other aspects of quantum mechanics. The show bears the marks of a passion project, meticulously sculpted. Vangsness’s reference points are wonderfully arcane; a reference to Helen Mirren’s performance in Excalibur can hardly be described as zeitgeisty, given that hardly anyone saw that film in 1981 let alone watches it now, but Vangsness isn’t trying to create buzzword recognition. Her high- brow show is a groaning buffet of loop-the-loop logic and cosmic questioning; delivered in inimitable style. (Eddie Harrison) n Assembly Rooms, 8, 11, 15, 18, 21, 24 Aug, 8.15pm, £10–£11 (£9–£10).
7–14 Aug 2019 THE LIST FESTIVAL 93